“Yeah, I know. I met her.”

She drops the trays on the table and whips her head around. “You met Molly? How? Was Reed with you? Oh my God, he saw her and didn’t tell me?”

“Whoa.” I hold my hands out in front of me. “Yes, to all of those questions, I think. I’m assuming he didn’t tell you.”

She gently rolls her eyes. “Unbelievable.”

“That’s kind of how we started hanging out. I roped the two of us into attending her engagement party last weekend.” I swallow hard when she slowly looks at me. “As a couple,” I meekly add.

“As a couple?” she questions, her voice reaching a higher pitch. “Reed did the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing with you?”

I almost take offense to that, until I remember Reed telling me he hasn’t kissed anyone in nine years. I’m going to assume he hasn’t been a boyfriend in that long either.

Jesus. That witch was his last girlfriend?

I stare into Riley’s eyes. “Yes. He did the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”

She huffs, dropping her shoulders. “You think you know somebody.” Riley shakes her head as her hands curl into fists. “I want to call him so bad right now.” She holds a finger up in front of my face, halting my protest. “But I won’t. I’ll pretend I know nothing about this.”

“Thank you.”

She grabs the serving trays off the table. “I don’t know, Beth, really. Like I said, Reed doesn’t get jealous, but he also doesn’t usually pretend to be someone’s boyfriend so he can spend a night with his ex. I might be just as confused about this now as you are.”

She walks away, carrying the trays over to the baking sheet of dinner rolls.

My head feels heavier now, putting strain on the muscles in my neck. It’s not even noon and I feel like I could lie down and sleep for days. Maybe Reed isn’t jealous, or miserable.

Maybe I’ve imagined everything.

His words to me in the bathroom, his hand on my neck, his urgent breath against my skin.

“CJ asked me out.”

I’ve never hated the sound of my own voice before, until that moment.

“You want my advice?” Riley calls out, moving around the kitchen.

I lean back against the wall, nodding when she looks over at me.

She carries over two trays of rolls. “Go out with CJ. If Reed doesn’t like it, make him do something about it.”

Wendy walks through the doorway and grabs an apron off the wall. “Five minutes until the doors open. Are we ready back here?”

Riley looks at me. I take in a deep breath.

Make him do something about it.

She’s right. It’s Reed’s turn to grab my face and kiss me without giving me a choice in it. It’s his turn to reach for my hand, to touch me first. He’s miserable? He’s jealous? Let me see it. The only thing he’s shown me is how easily he can be dragged out of my work.

I reach for two aprons, tossing one to Riley. “We’re ready.”

I STARE BACK AND FORTH between the two objects tempting me. My gaze lingers on the one, my cell phone.

Don’t even think about it.

Forcing my eyes to the left, I size up the plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies I’ve just slaved over for tomorrow.

Nope. You’re wasting your time looking.

Back to the phone. I rest both elbows on the counter, leaning my chin on my fists, a heavy sigh rolling past my tongue.

I miss him. So sue me. Sending Reed a simple ‘how is your day’ text isn’t the same thing as forcing him to kiss me. Right?

It’s close.

Grunting, I flick my gaze back to the cookies.

Still warm. The perfect golden brown color, with the tiny chocolate morsels instead of the regular sized ones. I only made a dozen. I alone can eat all twelve of these bad boys, which is why I shouldn’t eat one right now. One will become seven, seven will lead to me grabbing my car keys and heading back to the store. But then, there’s the other temptation in the room. If I’m going to cave and reach for something, shouldn’t it be the cookies?

My eyes sweep the counter. I think back to the last text from Reed. The one I never responded to. Is he waiting for me to write back? Is that why he hasn’t sent me anything else?

The hardest decision I’ve faced in a long time just became incredibly simple.

One hand reaches for a cookie, the other grabs my phone. I round the counter and head for the couch, taking a bite of the cookie and unlocking the screen.

Technically, I’m not sending him a regular text. I’m sending him a reply to a text. That is completely different than putting myself out there with an unprovoked message. I’m reacting. Nothing more.

Me: Ok.

There. A simple response. The whatever is in his court now. Ball, or something.

I set the phone down in my lap and take another bite. The chocolate melts against the heat of my mouth, coating my tongue. I lick a tiny bit off my thumb as my phone beeps.

Reed: What’s ok?

What’s ok? Did he not . . .

I scroll back to his last message. Yup. That was definitely the last thing he sent me.

Me: You said nothing happened. I’m saying ok.

Reed: What the hell, Beth? I sent that 6 days ago. You couldn’t text me back sooner?

I read his message twice.

Couldn’t text him back sooner?

Really? He’s mad about this? Maybe I took 6 days because I was still in shock from what I saw. Maybe I didn’t have anything to respond to. It’s not like he asked me a question. I don’t remember reading ‘Did you see that just now?’ or ‘Any chance you missed that chick dragging me outside?’

I shove the rest of the cookie in my mouth, typing my response. His text comes in before I can finish.

Reed: I’m sorry you saw that.

Holding down the back-arrow, I erase the message I was nearly finished typing.

Okay. This isn’t what I miss. I’ve never felt awkward doing anything with Reed, but if we stay on this topic, I know that’s what I’m going to feel. I don’t want to think about that night anymore. I’ve already allowed my mind to run rampant with images of what he did with that woman before he was dragged out of the bar. I know how Reed flirts, and I’m grateful I didn’t see it. But that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about it.

Constantly thinking about it.

Time for a subject change.

Me: What are you doing right now?

I drop my head back onto the couch after I press send.

Shit. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about anything else. Maybe now that he’s made sure I know how regretful he is, there’s no other reason to keep this conversation going.

I should’ve grabbed the entire plate of cookies.

My phone beeps.

Reed: Having a great day constructing.

I smile against my hand. That, right there, that’s what I miss. Reed being exactly how he’s always been with me. Making me smile when I’m two seconds away from crawling underneath something and hiding out until winter. Easy. Playful. This is the Reed I want. The one who brings out the happiest version of myself.

Me: Didn’t I ask you to erase that entire message off your phone?

Reed: No. You asked me to forget you said you don’t get dick very often. I didn’t, btw.