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“Watch your tone,” she warns then glances at Reece as he follows us. “I know you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on her today,” she tells him, “but it’s bad luck to see your bride before you get married, so you’ll have to wait outside.” She comes to a stop in front of one of the spare bedrooms and draws the heavy door open.
Inside, a series of vanities have been set up along with lights, and music wafts through the air. As she pulls me inside the room, the overwhelming scent of a vanilla candle burns my nostrils.
“I’ll be right out here if you need anything.” Reece holds my gaze as he shuts the door.
I have a weird feeling he’s attempting to convey a silent message to me. Back in the day, I’d have been able to decipher it. But now, I have no clue what he means—and I don’t care. I try not to, at least, but I can’t stop thinking about what Blaise told me and how there’s more to what transpired between the four of us than what I’m aware of.
“Go sit down over there,” my mother instructs while pointing at the farthest vanity. “I’m going to go check to see if the makeup artists have arrived.” In an anxious frenzy, she hurries for the door while tying her robe tighter. “Can you message Jessa and see if she’s on her way?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond as she rushes out of the room.
Great. She’s going to be a lot of fun today.
I text Jessa, who tells me she’s on her way, then I wait in silence, pretending like my stomach isn’t churning with nerves. I’m more than nervous. I’m not even sure if a word exists to describe my level of anxiety.
“Knock, knock, knock,” Reece says as he opens the door.
He has his eyes closed when he walks in, carrying a plate. “Can I open my eyes? Or are you not dressed …? Although, if it’s the latter, I’m still okay with opening my eyes.”
Shaking my head and rolling my eyes, I say, “You can open your eyes. I’m dressed.”
He does, and his gaze zeroes in on me. “Bummer.” He pouts as he crosses the room toward me. Then he plops into a chair beside mine and sets the plate on the vanity in front of me. “I don’t give a shit what your mother says. You need to eat.” He points at the plate piled with eggs, sausage, and strawberries.
The little kickflip my stomach does is beyond aggravating. The dirty little bastard of a traitor. But Reece’s gesture is sweet and something the old Reece would’ve done.
This new one, though … I don’t trust him.
When I don’t take a bite, he remarks with an impish grin, “I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Why would I think that?” I question dryly. “Oh, wait, maybe because you’ve spent the last three years trying to destroy me.”
“I wasn’t trying to destroy you,” he insists. When I scoff, he sighs. “Baby, just eat, okay? You’ll get lightheaded if you don’t.”
He’s right, and once again, he proves how well he knows me.
“What is with you guys calling me nicknames likebabyandsweetheart?” I ask as I collect the fork and dive into the eggs. My stomach is so, so grateful that it actually grumbles.
Reece presses back a smirk. “Well, at least your stomach is thankful.”
“It’s an idiot,” I retort as I take a bite of the sausage. “Now answer my question.”
He wets his lips with his tongue, considering his answer. “I used to call you baby all the time, and you never cared.”
“No, I cared. But I let you get away with it because I liked you.” I pick up a strawberry. “I don’t like you anymore, so stop calling me that.”
His gaze searches mine. “You’re upset about today, so I’ll let that comment slide.”
“If I wasn’t, then what would you have done?” I snap. “Tell everyone Ryder took my virginity? Been there, done that.” I stuff a bite of eggs into my mouth. “I hate to break it to you, but nothing you can say or do matters to me anymore.”
He rubs his lips together. “I highly doubt that.” He slants forward in the chair, leaning close to me. “I’m sorry you’re upset,” he whispers. “What can I do to help? You need a drink? A sedative?”
I stop mid-bite at his jarring mood shift. “Are you being serious right now?”
Strands of his blond angelic hair fall into his eyes as he nods. “I am. Just say the word, and it’s yours.”
His words strike a memory locked deep inside my mind.
I should tell him no. I shouldn’t trust him. But I also don’t want to be freaking the hell out for the rest of the day.
“All right, yeah, bring me something,” I say, hoping this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
