You see, I’m not a natural rule breaker. I’m not meek by any means, but I won’t go out of my way to step out of line. Although Reeve may like his routine and be set in his ways, it’s only because he’s already figured out who he is. I think when he sees me, he sees that struggle. Reeve challenges that, pushes the boundaries, and I like who I am around him.
Obviously we aren’t breaking in somewhere and stealing, but even the thought of it gives me a mild thrill.
“No to both of those ideas,” he replies, finally stopping us in our tracks. He steps away for a few moments, leaving me there, but I sense he’s still in the room. I hear footsteps and he’s back now, pulling the blindfold off me.
I blink a few times, trying to adjust my eyes to the room around me. It’s the candle I see first, sitting atop a perfectly set table. I look around, not exactly sure where we are, maybe the back of a restaurant? I hear the faint clatter of pots and pans, but not much else.
“You did this for me?” I ask, voice filled with awe.
He nods. “I figured it was time we actually went on a date. I know there’s always a risk of being seen, so I called in a favor to a friend and he managed to throw this together.”
Tears build behind my eyes, and I throw myself on top of him before I can stop.
“I love it,” I whisper, then connect my lips with his own. His arms circle around my waist and tighten as I deepen the kiss.
Reeve eventually pulls back, then nods toward the table. “We should sit down. Otherwise, I have a feeling we won’t make it to dinner.”
I feel my cheeks redden and walk in front of him to the table. My chest constricts at the sight of all the trouble he’s gone to, just so we can do something as simple as have dinner together outside my flat.
“I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Reeve,” I say, sitting down.
Reeve, never one to deal well with an overflow of emotion, smiles but says nothing.
A waiter comes out, then pours us both champagne before retreating behind a swinging door, to what I assume is the actual restaurant. I take a huge gulp, loving the ice-cold bubbles as they slide down my throat. Reeve takes a few sips, but I know this is more for me than him. I don’t actually think I’ve ever seen him drink champagne before.
“So, uh, I phoned my dad today,” Reeve says, catching me off guard. I choke on the bubbles, coughing a few times to right myself. My eyes water from the intrusion, but I quickly blink the tears away.
“You phoned your dad?” I repeat like an idiot.
He nods, his expression neutral as if he doesn’t want to make a big deal about it, but the rigid set of his shoulders tells me otherwise.
“How did it go?” I tread carefully, knowing one too many questions could set him back.
“He wants to meet me at some point this year.”
“Will you let him?”
Reeve nods. “I think so. I mean, I might as well. If I don’t give him the chance to know me, then I can’t really be mad at him for not being around my whole life. But if it turns out he’s a right wanker, then I guess it doesn’t matter.”
I nod. “And your mum? Have you spoken to her about it all?”
“I asked her why she never told me. She said he was a loser who would never make it far in the world and it was better that we were without him.” His eyes darken. “I mean, I always knew Mum was elitist and cared about money and shit, but I didn’t think it meant so much to her that she’d cut my dad out of my life just because he didn’t have those things.”
Reeve’s mum, whom I’ve met only a handful of times, loves money. It isn’t a judgment or a guess; it’s a fact. Elizabeth Sawyer has been through three marriages, all an extravagant display of wealth disguised as a wedding, and those are Reeve’s words, not mine. Yet I never found it in my heart to judge her for that. She grew up with money, so she became accustomed to that lifestyle. It’s her keeping Reeve’s father away because he had no money that bothers me. I mean, who is that judgmental to make such a drastic life choice based on how many pounds are in a person’s bank account?
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” I reply, realizing I’ve been silent. “I can’t imagine how much that has to hurt.”
He turns away from me, his attempt to act indifferent, but again, I know it isn’t the truth. Reeve loves his mother, despite her being a snob, but this? How do you get over this?
“She begged me not to meet him, said he’d only drag me down, but I can’t trust a word she says now. She’s admitted to being everything I always hoped she wasn’t.”
I reach across the table and take his hand in my own. “You know I support you in anything you do, Reeve. All of us do and will.”
“I know, Em. There’s a lot to work out, but I think meeting him is the right choice.” The waiter comes out with our food, interrupting Reeve’s thoughts, and I decide to put a pin in the conversation. We spend the next few hours stuck in thoughtful chatter about life and work. He makes me laugh; I make him smile.
Yet after dessert comes out, Reeve shocks me the most for the night.
“Mum has invited me to dinner next weekend. She’s having a dinner party at her flat in Chelsea. Do you want to come?”
I bite my tongue to not answer too quickly, elated at the invite.
“I’d love that, Reeve.”
“Good,” he replies, going back to his plate.
I don’t bother hiding my smile, happy for him to know how much his actions mean to me.
“I need them by the first week of March. You got that, hon?”
I clench my fist at the pet name but keep my thoughts to myself, walking back and forth across my flat while I hold the phone to my ear, my eyes unable to stop rolling.
“Of course, they will be ready by then,” I reply, already dreading getting everything done, but dreaming of the money that will come with it.
“Great, we will be in touch,” Anton Chambers says, then ends the call. I let out a long groan, knowing the next couple of months are going to be hectic, tonight probably being one of the last carefree ones.
I grab my deep red lipstick and apply it, then check myself over once more in the mirror. My curls are free, sitting just past my shoulders, and I’ve gone for a more natural face, the lipstick being the real statement.
My emerald knit dress complements my platform Mary Janes, along with my tights. It’s a fraction more understated than I’m used to, but I don’t want Reeve’s mum to think I’m a nutter too soon. We’ll save that for after I’ve locked her son down.
My bell goes off, and I grab my purse, yelling a quick goodbye to Cora before slipping outside. Thank God for my winter coat, because the temperatures are colder than ever. Every gal in London is bundled up.
I spot Reeve before he sees me. His black hair is parted, and he’s in a long black coat, black pants, and dress shoes. It’s the definition of slick. I want to run into his arms, but these shoes would surely take me out before I got the chance.
“Hey, handsome,” I call out when I’m in close range.
He looks up from his phone, a grin breaking out across his face. “You look great, Em.”
I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around him as soon as I’m sure I won’t wipe out. His warmth engulfs me along with a sense of familiarity and home.