“Enough emotional pishposh, let’s have a toast,” I say, raising my glass. “To the family you are born into, and better yet, the one you get to choose.”
Stana tears up at my words, which are eerily similar to what I told her months ago when she was so lost in life.
“We can be your family, if only you’d let us.”
We reach for one another’s spare hand at the same time as everyone toasts, Lottie grinning at both of us. And in this moment, I can’t thank the universe enough for bringing me not only one sister, but two.
“Please take more of these home. I have Tupperware!” Stana says, seriously eager to load off the leftovers onto Lottie.
Lottie looks at me and we both laugh.
“I love the word ‘Tupperware’!” I explain, slightly buzzed.
“What the fuck is Tupperware?” Reeve asks, his eyebrows bunched together.
“It’s a container, like you put food in it. I think it’s an actual brand but like Kleenex, it’s become the name for all things containers in the States,” Lottie chimes in, sitting down next to him with her Tupperware full of sandwiches.
“Why would they call a tissue a Kleenex? I never got that,” Owen mumbles more to himself than anyone else.
Us girls laugh as the boys still seem confused. “We watch a lot of American TV, plus our best mate, Stana, is our own little American Girl Doll. She teaches us all the things.”
We burst out in giggles again before Owen stands, pulling Lottie up with him. “I’m gonna head out, walk you home?” he asks her, and she nods before grabbing her bag.
“It was honestly a great night. I needed this,” she tells Stana, pulling her in for a hug. Owen says goodbye to the guys, and then he and Lottie clear out, leaving just Reeve and me.
“I should get going too.” I stand up, not wanting to be questioned. Having people as a buffer usually causes a lack of awkwardness with Reeve, but right now, things could easily take a turn.
“I’ll walk you,” Reeve says, standing up with me.
I shoot him daggers with my eyes as we say our goodbyes, careful not to give us away to Ali. As soon as we’re in the hall, I’m going to lose him. The last thing I want is him walking me the few blocks home.
I make haste with my exit, already heading down the stairway as Reeve catches up.
“I wasn’t kidding, Emilia. I’m walking you home.”
I shake my head, attempting to walk faster, but I’m short and my little legs only take me so far. Damn my fucking gene pool.
We get to the street, the night air having a light chill. My black Mary Janes click against the footpath as I stomp, attempting to drain all my anger with each thump.
“Emilia, slow down or you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Reeve calls out as he catches up to me. I brush him off, too annoyed to speak.
“Em, I’m serious, slow down.”
And as if the gods are on his side, my foot gets caught in a cobblestone and all I see is the pavement coming toward my face before I’m quickly the right way up again.
“Jesus, you could have really hurt yourself. You want to get away from me that bad?”
I pause, taking in huge gulps of the night air, and I slam my eyes shut, hoping to exit this moment and the impending conversation I know we have to have.
“Being around you,” I start, “it’s hard for me, Reeve.”
I hear his intake of breath but don’t pause to look at him. It’s all too painful.
“I never meant to hurt you, Em. I really am sorry.”
I nod, more to myself than him, before beginning to walk again, at a reasonable speed. He walks next to me in silence.
“This all feels vaguely familiar,” I whisper, my mind racing back to that night all those years ago.
He chuckles. “You have no idea how much self-control I exerted then.”
I try to tame my racing heart at his comment, his admission unlike him.
“I thought you only saw me as an annoying little sister.”
“You and I, there have always been layers. I just don’t think me peeling them back is a good idea.”
It’s the first time he’s ever been honest with me about his feelings, yet it’s hard to ignore the sting his words cause in my heart. But with the sting also comes the relief that we are actually talking again. Despite needing time away from him, I hate to admit it, but my world feels slightly off kilter when Reeve Sawyer isn’t a staple in it.
We both stop, finally at my flat, and I gaze up at him.
“Cora is out of town visiting her girlfriend for the weekend. Come up and we can finish this talk?” I’m playing with fire—hell, I’m standing in the middle of the blaze—but isn’t that a part of love? Being stupid, making choices you will regret later, because in that moment they feel so good and you think to yourself, damn all the consequences?
He appears hesitant, as if entering will create some new layer to our already fucked-up relationship. But despite that, he walks ahead of me, pulling out his set of keys I gave him a few years ago and opening my door for me.
If only I listened to the hesitance on Reeve’s face, because little do I know, Reeve Sawyer is about to take another piece of my heart, right before smashing it to pieces.
I wake up with a warm body pressed against my side, wishing to all that is holy that I had turned on the air con I forced Ali to get installed last year.
I groan, tilting my head up, only to realize there is a very naked Reeve lying in bed next to me. All the breath leaves my lungs as the events of last night come rushing back.
Us talking things out.
Us having drinks.
More drinks followed by pizza.
Followed by more drinks.
Followed by me impulsively kissing him.
Followed by flashes of sex. Lots of it, if my fuzzy mind can remember. Memories of what Reeve whispered into my ear last night assault me, my stomach turning from not only all the alcohol I drank, but more specifically Reeve’s declarations.
“I’ve always wanted you.”
“You mean everything to me.”
Taking in deep breaths, I try to calm myself, unsure of how to proceed. If Reeve said all that to me, Lord knows I said just as much, if not more.
He stirs next to me, and I hold my breath, waiting for his realization. It comes about twenty seconds later when he jumps out of my bed.
“Shit!” he whispers to himself, turning to me before I grab my sheet, covering myself.
“Em, I, we… I don’t… fuck,” he says again, eyes frantic. Reeve has never been much of a drinker, so I can only guess how bad his hangover mixed with his clear-as-day regret feels.
“Reeve,” I say cautiously, “why don’t you get dressed and we can talk this out over breakfast, okay?” I smile at him, but I know it’s filled with hesitance.
His eyes are manic, wide as he meets my gaze. “No!” he says all too quickly, and I rear back. “I mean, I need to go, Em. I’m sorry.” He clenches his eyes, seemingly regaining his control. “We’re friends, Em. Good friends who made a mistake, and that’s it.” He nods as if the words are utter truth to him.
He doesn’t shout or yell or smash things. Control has always been Reeve’s forte. But in this moment, his calmness and tranquility is what I hate the most about him. I used to envy it, admire it, but right now, I want to kill him for it. He has his emotions locked down tight now, not even a twitch to give anything away.