But Ali, being Ali, waves it off. “Of course not, Em. You’re my little sister. I’d never want you dating a lad you weren’t keen on.”
I smile at him, thankful I didn’t fuck things up too much.
“Anyway, I had a feeling Noel probably wasn’t right for you,” he says, helping himself to another slice.
I raise my eyebrows, my attention no longer on the food. “How so?”
“You’re not exactly meek, Em. You’re strong, determined, and willful. You need someone to counter that strength.”
My attention piqued, I lean forward. “What, you don’t think Noel is strong?” I’m not offended on his behalf, just curious as to why my brother is saying this.
Swallowing the bite in his mouth, he shakes his head. “It’s not that at all. I have no doubt he will make someone very happy one day. It’s just I’ve always thought you’d be with someone who could give to you as good as he gets, not always back down to your will, challenge you every step of the way.”
I beam at my brother, taking his comments as a compliment, knowing that’s fully how he means them.
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he looks at me curiously. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, just didn’t realize you thought I was so great.” I’m teasing, and we both know it. Ali playfully rolls his eyes as Stana continues to stay quiet, her gaze far too knowledgeable. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what man she thinks will be my equal while also being my challenge.
Ali’s mobile goes off, his liquor supplier’s name flashing across the screen. “Excuse me,” he says before picking up the phone and exiting the room.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” Stana asks as he closes their bedroom door.
“I’m just having one of those weeks,” I tell her, but it’s only partly true. I’ve never been one to lie—Lord probably knows I’m terrible at it—but I also know that this year has been full of Stana having to take care of other people’s problems when she really only should be focusing on herself and Ali. And don’t get me started on big brother. His life has been dedicated to making sure I’m okay. I won’t take their honeymoon phase away from them.
Stana walks over to me, her loose black dress swaying as she goes.
“Is this all really about Noel? Are you sure there’s nothing happening with Reeve? Don’t think I forgot about how much you wanted to kill him the day I returned.”
I internally cringe. Not only at that moment, but also from knowing that yet again, I am going to be dishonest.
“I was being dramatic. I insinuated we give things a try and he rejected me. A bruised ego, that’s all. I’ll get over it quickly.”
Stana nods but doesn’t seem entirely convinced. Lucky for me she moves on, my chest aching with the secrets I keep. But I will not be pitied or coddled. There’s a certain sense of pure humiliation that accompanies this type of rejection. Especially when said rejection comes from a friend that everyone knows.
The wound is still too raw, so despite knowing I should probably confide in her, I pick self-preservation over anything else. I take another gulp of wine, hoping the bottle will help the memories of the past few months dissipate.
It’s two days later, after another long shift at Saint Street, that my doorbell goes off. I pause my episode of Friends, knowing Cora is away for the night and I’m not expecting anyone. Demon is fast asleep in his new favorite place, her bedroom. Hard as I try, I’m a little jealous, but also thankful for how much she helps me out with him.
It’s past midnight as I walk to the door, and I check my peephole, unwilling to open up till I’m certain of who it is. At this point I think I would be less surprised to see Santa Clause than who it really is, Reeve.
I pull the door open and he eyes me. I check him over, looking for any sign of glassy eyes or disheveled hair. Reeve Sawyer may look like trouble to some, but I know he’s a pristine asshole who gets drunk maybe twice a year. Total control freak.
I sniff him, seeing if the smell of Hendricks gin comes off him in waves, and I already know if he’s here for a repeat of those other two nights, he’s shit out of luck.
He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly aware of what I’m doing. Okay, he’s sober as a church mouse, but that doesn’t explain why he’s here.
“Emilia,” he says, moving forward. I dart out of the way as he enters my flat, then close the door after him.
“Is showing up at girls’ front doors at midnight a habit for you now? I really don’t remember inviting you over, Reeve.”
“Owen’s got Lottie sleeping in my bed tonight,” he replies. “A pipe burst at her place and she didn’t have anywhere to crash.”
I want to ask why she isn’t staying with Stana, her cousin, but I don’t want to prolong a conversation with him. He walks into my kitchen and pours us each a glass of water.
“Please help yourself,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every word.
He grins at me, teeth and all. I have to bite down on my lips to keep from reacting.
As he walks back toward me, I try to keep my eyes off how well his black skinny jeans, boots, and T-shirt fit him. He’s like a sexy, smart rock star. And I’m clearly the dumb-arse groupie.
He offers me a glass of my own water and I shake my head, too tired to deal with any of this.
“Suit yourself.” He falls onto my couch.
“Sorry, but let’s back up a second. Why the fuck are you here, Reeve? I get Lottie is at your place, but you could have slept on your own couch!”
“I could have, but yours is so much more comfortable.” He grins again, and I smack his elbow.
“This isn’t funny. I told you I’m over playing these games. You can sleep on the couch tonight, but you need to be gone by morning. I’m going to bed.”
“Emilia, wait.” He grips my arm, the smile stripped from his face. “I know I’ve been a dick, an incomparable one, but I want to explain. No more excuses. All that shit I said to you before, it was just that, shit. You deserve the truth.”
I pause, my mind reeling. “There are blankets in the cupboard if you get cold. We can talk tomorrow.”
I don’t wait for him to tell me to stop. I bolt to my room and lock the door behind myself.
“Wake up.” I kick Reeve with my foot, my trainer pushing into his side. He just grumbles before turning further into the couch, maybe hoping it will swallow him whole.
“Reeve, wake up,” I say louder this time, my mind drifting to the now-cold kettle water I could pour all over him. I almost want him to stay asleep so I can douse him.
I smirk, heading for the kitchen as he stirs behind me. I don’t wait for him as I feed Demon, then start to make a cuppa. I hear rustling from the other room before his footsteps disappear into my bathroom.
It’s another five minutes before he comes out, looking fresh-faced and not as if he spent the night on my shitty couch.
“I’ve got things to do. So, you can say what you need to, then be on your way.”
He lets out a breath, running his hand through his mane.
“I haven’t been myself these past few months, Em. Hurting you, saying shit I don’t mean, doing it again, rinse and repeat.” He shakes his head, torment running across his face. “You know me—that isn’t who I am. You mean so much to me, Emilia, and thinking I’ve fucked everything up between us these past few months gutted me.”