Dining for Love

27. Willa

Chapter 27

Willa

R EID DIDN’T STAY over last night. Except for our conversation on the beach and a few glorious hours yesterday morning, Reid’s spent all his available time in the two days since Chief Mac got shot looking for who did it.

I don’t blame him, but I miss him all the same.

I finish my shift at the diner on Tuesday and head for my usual shower, then go to Agatha’s for tea. I saw Reid’s truck outside, but he wasn’t in the backyard, and when I looked at his house, he wasn’t in there waving at me like he’s been before.

Admittedly, it stings. Is this what happens after I tell someone I love them?

Agatha meets me at her screen door, gesturing to the porch and telling me to have a seat. I settle into the porch swing and wait, knowing she won’t let me help her because she never does.

When Agatha comes out, she’s trailed by none other than Reid, who looks breathtaking in a simple pair of faded jeans and a heather gray T-shirt. The shirt is tight around his biceps, and I swear they flex as I look at them, as if Reid knows that’s where my attention goes and does it on purpose. When I met his eyes, he’s smiling mischievously, so maybe he did notice.

“Hi, Willa.” His voice is smooth, silky.

“Hi, Reid.”

Agatha sets the tray of tea and glasses on the table, then pours some for all of us. She tops the drinks with big rounds of lemon, and the whole effect is pretty as a picture.

“Cheers,” she says, easing into her seat as Reid joins me on the swing.

We clink our glasses together and take a sip, and I close my eyes at the taste, strong and tart with a hint of mint. It’s hard to top a breezy afternoon on a porch swing with a perfect glass of iced tea.

“I suppose you’re both wondering why I’ve called you here,” Agatha begins.

I wasn’t, actually, but I nod and smile alongside Reid.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

She waves him off. “Of course. I just figured it’s my duty as your landlord and neighbor to get the—what do the kids say?—the ‘hot goss’ from the two of you. Are you together or what?”

I nearly choke on the tea, and Reid slaps my back and looks at me quizzically. I narrow my gaze at him as I recover, then smile sweetly at him. “Reid?”

His eyes widen. “Me?” I smirk, and he turns to Agatha. “Well, um,” he begins. “I guess we’re, ah, seeing each other?” He looks at me helplessly.

Heck, I want to know what’s going on with us, too, so I wait for him to finish.

Clearing his throat, he continues, “And, well…that’s it. We’re seeing each other.”

Agatha adjusts her glasses to peer at him, then swings her gaze to me. “And are you moving to Miami with him, dear? Finally going to make good on your mother’s dreams for you and cook in a Michelin-starred restaurant? Lord knows it’s all she talks about.”

My heart squeezes. Mom’s been more and more vocal about it since Reid got here, and it…hurts. I know she means well. I look at Agatha, my feet barely touching the ground, as Reid swings us on the porch swing. “Honestly, Agatha?”

She nods seriously, not even a hint of wanting the ‘hot goss.’ I think she simply cares.

I give her the truth. “No.”

Beside me, Reid stiffens almost imperceptibly.

I keep going. “Lucky is my home. It’s always been my home, and I’ve been, well, lucky enough to feel like this is my forever home since I can remember the idea even occurring to me. Not everyone feels like they belong in the town where they were born, but I do. I’m staying here. It might mean that I have to open my own place eventually, but for now, I’m happy exactly where I am.”

Agatha smacks her hands on her lap decidedly, as though she was waiting for me to make this very declaration, then turns her impressive attention to Reid. “Your turn, Reid.”

“Ma’am?” He nearly croaks the word.

“Are you going back to Miami or staying here?”

My heart sinks at the question, because I already know the answer. Reid, ever-observant man that he is, notices. He puts his warm palm on top of my free hand where it lies on the white slats of the swing. “I’m, ah, not yet sure. I have a lot going on?—”

Agatha quite literally pshaws him, which I have never seen in real life, and can confirm that it is as satisfying as I thought it might be.

Reid gawks. “Excuse me?”

She does it again. “You heard me. Pshaw. Pa- shaw .”

He blinks at her. “Are you—choking?”

I stifle a hysterical giggle, not sure if I should be laughing or coming to Reid’s rescue, but decide it’s far better to listen.

Agatha harrumphs. “You listen to me, Reid MacKinnon. Your uncle is laying in the hospital over there, shot by who knows what kind of terrible person, and those kinds of things should bring a person clarity. ”

“Erm, okay…” Reid drawls.

“So, get clear!” She throws up her hands. “I swear, young people are as stupid as the day is long.”

I cough out a laugh.

“I’m…sorry?” Reid says.

She stands and points at us. “You should be. I’m done with you two.” She gestures in frustration and goes inside.

Reid and I look at each other. “Do you know—?” he starts.

But the screen door squeaks open and Agatha’s head pokes out. “And clean this up. I don’t want ants.” Her head disappears, and the door bounces shut behind her.

Reid chuckles and shakes his head. “This is the part about living in small towns that I didn’t believe was actually true.”

“Oh, it’s very true.” I stand and start cleaning up the glasses, tidying everything to take back inside Agatha’s kitchen.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

I glance up at him. “Do what?”

“Clean up.”

I scoff. “What did she say? Pa- shaw ?”

He quirks a grin. “She did.”

“Then I’m saying that same thing to you. Just—wait here? Probably best only one of us goes in there in case she decides to launch another offensive.”

He opens the door for me and waits as requested. I put everything away and return to the porch.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” he says.

My chest squeezes at the phrasing. Not can I come in or let’s watch some bad television and I’ll rub your feet, but I’ll walk you home . All I can do is nod, swallowing the thickness in my throat and unable to speak.

But when we get to the door, he follows me inside and shuts the door behind him, locking it. He opens his arms and I sink into them, wanting the world to stop for just a little while. Wanting simply to feel safe and wanted in Reid’s arms. Not to worry about what happens next, or how I’m supposed to love a man like Reid, who keeps secrets so habitually that even now, it feels like I barely know anything about him.

“I know this isn’t forever, Reid. I get it,” I finally manage to say, my voice muffled against his shirt.

“Willa,” he sighs.

“But it’s hard. So freaking hard,” I sniff, unwilling to cry. I will not cry.

Yeah, I’m gonna cry.

“I love you, and you’re going to break my heart,” I choke out.

“Fuck, Willa, you’re breaking my heart,” he says softly, tipping my chin up and kissing me gently.

He peels my clothes off right there in the kitchen, and when he scoops me into his arms to walk me to the bedroom, I try hard not to wonder how many more times I’ll get this. Get him.

We make love slowly, tenderly, as though it might be the last time. When I come, I manage to hold back the tears until his head is buried in the crook of my neck.

Later, we have a simple dinner of pasta with red sauce and garlic bread. We’re lounging on the couch with Midnight, her little body splayed between us, the fuzz on her stomach sticking straight up and just begging for pets, when I say, “You have to take her with you.” I barely get the words out, and they’re so soft I’m almost surprised he heard them.

“Tonight? I thought I’d stay with you, if that’s okay.”

“I meant when you leave. When—when you go back to Miami.”

He blanches.

And suddenly, I can’t do this anymore. I stand. “I think you should go.” I nod, as if I’m agreeing with myself. This is me, standing up for myself. Go, me!

Except, why does it feel so bad?

Reid looks up at me, silent, his forest-green eyes searching my face. Dimly, I wonder if he’s ever been trained to read emotions. Not that mine are any secret. I’m a mess.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Come by the diner, and I’ll make you a burger. No sesame seeds.” My voice pitches higher as I speak, and I turn away, tears already streaming down my cheeks. I fight hard to keep from collapsing in on myself, but there’s no stopping the way my shoulders shake with silent sobs.

I don’t hear anything at first, but after a moment, there’s the telltale sound of him rising from the couch and moving toward the kitchen.

I simply…can’t.

Can’t move. Can’t breathe. It takes everything I have to hold myself upright.

“I’ll get Midnight in the morning,” he says. And it’s the wobble in his voice, and the way he knocks on the glass window as he leaves, reminding me to turn the lock, that does it.

I run to the kitchen, slamming against the door. But instead of opening it and yelling for him to come back, that I’m sorry and I didn’t mean it and I want whatever we have for as long as we can have it, I choke out a sob and lock it.

Then I slide to the floor and cry.