18. Reed

Chapter eighteen

Reed

We make the full loop hand in hand. Since the clouds keep the sun from shifting noticeably across the sky, it’s later than I expected when we get back in the car. “Should you call your sister and tell her you’re alive?” I ask, turning on the heater.

Her cheeks darken. “I texted her this morning.”

“Maybe I want to say hi, too.”

Petra groans but taps Livi’s name on her screen. “This will be fun.”

Livi answers with a squeal. “Sis, your text was BS . You don’t answer me until the morning and ‘nothing happened?’ You better give me the low down because I’m betting Reed knows how to get it done! God, the ass on that man—”

“Livi,” Petra interrupts, cheeks pink. “Reed’s here and you’re on speaker.”

Livi’s delighted laugh makes Petra blush harder. I take her hand and press a kiss to her palm as Livi barrels on. “Okay, Reed, you give me the deets because Petra’s shy as a church mouse—”

I’m not messing with Petra’s limit. “Nothing happened.”

Livi puzzles over that. “I’m mad that you’re not telling me, but happy that you’re an honorable guy. It’s an annoying place to be.”

“Anyway,” Petra cuts in, her gaze fixed on our linked fingers. “Just saying hi and letting you know I’m fine. Bye!”

“Wait!” Livi yells, and Petra’s thumb hovers over the screen. “Are you bringing Reed to dinner? ”

“Oh, jeez, Sunday dinner,” Petra grimaces. “Wanna go? You’ll be grilled, my mom will overstuff you, Zia Carla will be toasted, and Livi… Well, you’ve met Livi.”

“Hey!” Livi interrupts, offended.

I want to know how Petra ticks, but I’m not willing to overstep. I tap the mute button. “Only you and me here, Petra. Do you want me to go?”

“Don’t set a standard that a future date can’t live up to?”

A smirk pulls at my mouth. “That does wonders for my ego.”

Petra laughs, and she leans up to place a warm, chaste kiss on my cheek. “See? Say stuff like that and we’ll be fine.”

I want to reassure her with a real kiss. Now that I’ve heard more about Livi, what I thought was a hard rule might’ve been a simple suggestion. The more I’m around Petra, the more I like her. How did this go from attraction to craving her company? A quick fuck might’ve gotten that out of my system, but this—this building affection? That’s much harder to brush off.

“Livi?” Petra asks, unaware of my ongoing emotional crisis. “Yeah, okay, we’re coming to dinner. I’m giving you the same rules I gave Reed. No talking about sex—”

“ What? ” Livi exclaims. “Oh, I knew you two—”

“—and you and Reed can’t gang up on me.”

“That’s half the fun!” Livi protests. “All those times you and Silla used to gang up—”

Petra scoffs. “I was twelve , and you were annoying —”

“Well, you were bossy—”

“And we’re done. See you tonight,” I say, as I reach over and end the call. “Was that a preview of dinner?”

“You wanted to come. Wait until you see all of us together.” Her eyes glimmer, as if she’s enjoying my discomfort. I adore this side of her—the side that teases as much as I do. “Want to back out?”

I’ve got her chin in my hand before I know I’m moving. “Not a chance,” I taunt, inches from her lips. My body is screaming at me to close the distance. Screaming at her to close it for me. This is her boundary. Her permission to give. She doesn’t, though. It rips me apart to skim the edge of her lips, and I turn my face to the side and kiss the corner of her mouth instead. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

It takes the strength of ten men better than myself, but I manage to pull back. Petra’s hands tremble in her lap, and doubt creeps in.

“Apparently my own stalker tendencies come out around you,” I say. A joke and atonement in one. “Sure it’s okay if I go?”

“I’m sure. But maybe show up in your pajamas to set the bar exceptionally low.”

I nudge her shoulder. “And mess up my chances in the process? No way.”

“C’mon, Reed, it’ll leave a nice-sized opening when you leave.” She’s teasing again, eyes brightening, but I hate what she’s saying—which is ridiculous. I wanted her to experience real passion, not audios alone in her bathtub. For her to consider dating again.

But now, the idea of another man taking her out makes my stomach turn. Fuck me.

“Not supposed to talk about your next date to your current date,” I tease.

Petra laughs. “You’re not supposed to ask about porn over breakfast. We’re not very conventional, you and I.”

I relish the sound of that—her we and you and I . “In my field, you can talk about porn any time. And not always in a sexy way.”

Petra rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure you were asking about it in a sexy way. Can you drop me off at my car? I need to shower and change.”

“You could shower with me.” I sweeten the offer with a squeeze of her thigh.

“You already got me in your tub once. Not happening again.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” I tease, but head for the grocery store, anyway. “Gonna pick me up or text me your address?”

“I’ll text you. Let me see your phone?” she asks. I turn it on and unlock it for her. Her eyebrows lift at the notification for fifteen new voicemails, but she doesn’t ask about them. She calls herself to save my number and hands it back. It pings shortly thereafter, lighting up the screen with her name and address.

Petra Diamante. Her name echoes through me, lighting up parts of me that had long been dormant. It’s only after the screen darkens that I realize what happened.

I handed her my unlocked phone without hesitation. Kinley would’ve snooped, would’ve dug surreptitiously through my text messages or my photos. Petra didn’t bother. She didn’t spend time dissecting my home screen or scrolling my apps, which would’ve been doubly awkward since I downloaded all those dating apps trying to find her. I pull into the bustling parking lot, and reach for her hand.

“Petra, I—” But the words die on my tongue. How do you thank someone for not being another person? For not repeating the past? For pure decency? “Thanks for inviting me to dinner. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Petra rolls her eyes. “No you won’t. But leave me out of it, please. I can’t bear to smash my dad’s hopes of becoming a nun and tell him I belong in Gomorrah on the same day.”

I haven’t heard a Bible reference in ages, and the surprise of it makes me laugh. I squeeze her thigh as reassurance. “That’s pretty far-reaching for listening to sexy audio. I mean, God and I are cool, and I’m the one recording it. What time should I come over?”

She rolls her eyes at me, but she’s radiantly happy. “Six-thirty? Dinner at seven-ish.”

“Done,” I declare. I can’t wait.

“That’s actually Diamante time for possibly seven-thirty or eight,” Petra admits. She smiles, and it’s so sweet that I don’t want to let her go. “See you then.”

“See you soon, Pet.” I tilt her head up to kiss her cheek. Her hips sway as she walks away, and I bite my lip to hold in my grin. How the hell did this woman squirm her way under my skin in mere days? I’m in deep trouble. Petra unlocks her car and drives away before I absently dial Amanda’s number .

“Hi Reed,” Amanda answers right away. “I can’t believe you sent me money. It was way too much, and when you get back, I’m using it to take us all out to dinner. Where are you now?”

Oh damn. What am I doing, calling Amanda? I can’t tell her about Petra. I wish I could call Holly; she’d know exactly what to say. “I’m still in Swift River.”

“Reed,” she sighs. “You have to come home sometime. Or at least be around people. My friend Jenny lives in San Francisco, I’ll check if you can crash on her couch—”

“I need flower information,” I blurt out. Amanda’s pause is filled with all sorts of things on my end. Dread, humiliation, and a sinking in my gut while I anticipate her reaction.

It’s not a warm one. “What? Did you meet someone in the middle of nowhere? You can’t honestly—what are you—”

I close my eyes, wishing I could restart this whole conversation and talk about something menial instead. “It’s nothing serious, okay? I’ve only known her for a few days.”

“Then what are you doing ?”

I don’t know. I can’t bring myself to say the words. “Having fun. Don’t I deserve some fun?”

“You swore off dating forever and now you’re buying flowers for someone in a tiny town a bajillion miles away. How is that not a big deal?” I don’t answer, and Amanda sighs. “I want you to be happy. If you came back and fell in love with Coralville again, it would be healing.”

She means it. Amanda only wants the best for me. Our unwavering support for each other is what makes our relationship strong. But I need her to move past her wants and hear me. “Amanda, the woman I’m buying flowers for is healing me in ways that town never could.”

“That sounds pretty serious.” Amanda makes a noise, half-laugh, half-sob. “I guess we better pick out some great flowers while I resign myself to booking flights to Swift River twice a year.”

There’s the support I wanted. “You can fly on my dime, if that helps. ”

“It does,” she lets out a shaky, watery laugh. “I see first class in my future. For the girls, too.”

This is a welcome reprieve from her persistent Team Iowa, and I appreciate it. “Absolutely. First class in a forty passenger plane ought to be interesting. Alright, what do you know about Italian culture?”

“Me, or the internet?” she asks, but at least it holds her tears at bay. “How Italian is she? Does she speak it? Is she Catholic?”

“Very. Her father wishes she’d become a nun.”

“Oh man, hope they don’t find out what you do for a living,” Amanda says with a snort. She can’t see the hurt that zips through me at her words. “Alright, we’ve got sunflowers for good intentions and happiness. Calla lilies for goodwill. Definitely no chrysanthemum, it’s a death flower. Peonies for love and marriage, if you’re seriously romancing her.”

“Sunflowers it is. Last thing I want to do is tell her mother I want to marry her,” I say, warding off Amanda’s imminent line of questioning.

“Her mother?” Amanda yells, incredulous. “You’re meeting her family? You’re a big, fat liar, Reed, because that’s beyond serious!”

Damn. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but not to me. I hope you know what you’re getting into,” she warns. I’m afraid to answer, for fear of digging myself a deeper hole.

“At least if I screw up too bad I can move on,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“Can you?” Amanda asks dryly.

I don’t know. “Support me, okay? Tell me that Kinley isn’t going to be the last romantic experience I have. Tell me my love life doesn’t have to end as a horror story.”

After a long pause, Amanda’s voice is soft and apologetic. “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, go with the sunflowers. Get an odd number—even is bad luck. And wear a button-down. Always better to be too formal than too casual. ”

I know she’s pushing past what she actually wants to say, but I don’t want to overthink this any more than I already am. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles. “First class plane tickets twice a year.”

It should worry me that it makes me smile, but I’m too happy to bother. “I’ll remember.”

When we hang up, a new type of energy bounces through me. I need feedback from someone that’s not Amanda. My last message to Grant was over a month ago, but there’s no one else who might understand.

Hey. What if I told you I found someone that just…fuck, bro… Do you believe in love at first sight?

Hasn’t happened to me. You telling me it’s real?

Not sure. Is that insane?

So what if it is? You’ve always known how to make shit happen, Reed. Who cares if it’s love or not? If you want her, go for her. No one can tell you what you want except you.

Thanks, Grant. Come to Easter this year, okay? Mom misses you.

I close out my messages and dial Chelsea’s flower shop for the third day in a row. My brother has always been a man of few words, but he’s right. I don’t need to overanalyze this. I’m positive that tonight won’t be the last that I’m eager to spend with Petronia Diamante.