“Thank you,” I murmur, sliding my arms into my coat.
“I’m the one who needs to say thank you. I’m glad you took that leap.”
“Me too,” I admit. I put myself out there and I couldn’t know for sure if it was the alcohol talking or whether Reed had cast some sort of spell on me.
I circled around, waiting for him to put on his own jacket. He hands the coat check some money and nods toward the door.
Leaving the warm atmosphere of the restaurant behind, I walk ahead, and he catches up, his hand molded to my hip rather than its usual spot on my lower back. His touch has my nipples tightening inside my bra.
Until tonight, I’ve kept my feelings for Reed in an iron box. Locked. Under my bed. Surrounded by other boxes I haven’t wanted to dust off and examine the contents of. The fear that I’ll turn into the old, naive Victoria Clarke before I lost myself to being Mrs. Victoria Keebler had waged a war inside and won.
It’s been two years since the divorce and it took an entire year before I felt like the Clarke surname fit me again. My intuition assures me that Reed will handle me with gentle hands, but my intuition misjudged once before and although I received the best gift from my worst decision, I am still the one who picked Pete to share my life with.
All of that and yet here I sit, not wanting him to take me home. Wanting a minute, even a second more with him...to see the crinkle around his eyes when he laughs at something I said, to have his gaze land on me like there’s nothing he’d like more than to ravish me at that very moment.
My mind is so consumed with this internal debate I hadn’t noticed we were pulling away from the restaurant. He’s turned the radio on at a low volume and the silence between us isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable. His fingers tap along the stick shift, the lyrics low as they tumble out of his mouth.
For a moment, my mind flashes forward to what it would be like if we actually worked out. On our way home from a date night to find Jade and a set of twins still challenging my mom about their bedtime. Reed swooping them up in his arms when we walk in. Me sitting down on the sofa and talking with my mom about the night. Reed bringing us tea, snuggling up beside me on the couch as he fawns over my mother and me.
I smile thinking about what could be in the fantasy I’ve created for the two of us.
“You’re quiet,” he says, his hand finding my bare knee.
I swivel in my seat to face him. “I feel like all we’ve done tonight is talk about me. Tell me about your family.”
His body tenses for a moment. “I’ve told you about them. They have expectations I don’t quite live up to.”
“Does being an ADA pay well?” I can’t help but glance at the logo on the steering wheel.
He glances at me with a smirk on his lips. “Not enough for this, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well, you wear three-piece suits, which by the way I still insist a personal shopper picks out for you, you drive this ridiculously priced car”—I pat the dash—“and I imagine you live in a nice condo with a parking space that costs more every year than my entire college education did.”
He chuckles. “You know I’m a rich kid.”
He says it as casually as you’d tell someone you love pizza.
“Am I to assume you have a trust fund?”
He glances at me again and that smirk hasn’t left his face. “You assume correct.”
I move to look straight ahead out the windshield, leaning back in the seat. This would be another difference between Pete and Reed. Pete’s parents though rich, didn’t save. They spent and continue to spend what his father makes. They were nouveau riche and my guess is that Reed comes from old money. Pete knew if he wanted to continue his lifestyle, he had to earn the money himself. Reed went the opposite route.
“From your grandfather?” I ask.
“Grandmother.” He winks. “My mom’s mom.”
“So, your dad…”
“My dad is a successful businessman. A CEO of a major food industry company, but my mom’s family money goes back generations.”
“And your dad doesn’t like you being an ADA either?”
He huffs. “Right? I guess money can change people. Here’s a guy who worked his way up through the ranks and he thinks his money was wasted on my degree.”
My mom would have been ecstatic if I’d become a lawyer.
“I wasn’t brought up to do what makes me happy, Victoria. I was brought up to do something that had a lot of money and prestige attached to it so that my parents could brag.”
“But being an assistant district attorney is a noble profession,” I insist.
“Don’t feel bad for me, I’ve had a good life. So, what if my parents don’t like what I do? I learned a long time ago, that’s their problem, not mine.”
“You sound so sure. I mean parent’s expectations have the capability of really messing up a kid.”
He nods before checking his blind spot to change lanes. “Believe me, I think my dad hates the fact that I started mentoring at Big Brothers because that’s when I found out the real world was far from the reality inside the tiny enclave I’d been raised in. On one hand, I was grateful for what I had growing up, but on the other hand, I wanted to help those who didn’t have the same opportunities.”
“You’re like a noble prince.” The sentence falls from my lips without filtering through my brain.
Shit. My filter must be soaked in red wine at the moment.
The car rolls to a stop and for a moment, I think he didn’t hear me. His gaze is set forward, his hand wrapped around the gear shift, feet poised over the two pedals. Then he glances over, and his tongue is sliding over his bottom lip. “I love that you see me that way, but I don’t want to set some unrealistic expectations for you. I have plenty of faults.”
“I need details.”
“Well, I don’t cook. I order in every night. If you went to my condo right now, you’d only find a gallon of chocolate milk and a million takeout containers and condiments in my fridge. A cleaning lady comes twice a week because I am in no way domesticated. She washes my clothes, takes care of my dry cleaning, cleans the place. I stay up insanely late every night, usually crashing on my couch with a case file in my hand.”
I smile, thankful that he’s not perfect. Because perfect is an illusion. And I want the real thing.
“Sounds like you’re a typical bachelor to me.”
He shrugs, the light turns green and he accelerates back onto the highway.
“If I continue living this way, I’ll be single forever.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
He chuckles. “I’m kind of hoping I might be off the market soon.” He glances over at me and winks.
I melt into the expensive leather seat. If it wasn’t for my sweet Jade, I’d wish I would’ve met him before Pete. But taking Pete out of the equation takes my Jade away and there’s no way I’d be me without her.
“Can I ask you a question?” His eyes focus back on the road.
“Sure.”
“I know the rules of dating state not to talk about ex’s, but what happened with Pete? If you don’t want to answer just tell me to mind my own business.”