On the taxi ride over to Reed’s, the melancholy of not having Jade all weekend while she visits Pete’s parents with him sets in. Not knowing where she is, or what those poisoned people Pete calls family will say to her. I try to push it out of my mind. Pete only wants the best for his daughter so I have to trust he won’t let them say anything disparaging about me in front of her. The same way I won’t let my mom talk shit about Pete when Jade’s around.

The taxi stops, and I climb out, this time able to get through the revolving door the first time through. #winning

“Hi, Connor,” I say.

He stands, waves and digs through his drawer, holding an envelope in his hand.

“I have something for Mr. Warner, do you mind taking it up with you?” He meets me at the elevator. Pressing the up button and then scanning his card to allow me up to the floor.

“Sure.” We exchange the envelope.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Clarke.” He tips his head as the doors shut.

“Nice to see me not stumbling and shit-faced,” I say to myself in the silence of the elevator. My face reddens just thinking of the spectacle I made of myself the last time he saw me. Not my finest hour.

Reed’s already leaning against his doorframe when the elevator doors slide open. He’s biting an apple with a grin on his face.

“Hey,” I walk up to him, dropping my overnight bag at our feet.

The sweetness of the apple has me craving more of him as our lips meet and his tongue slides into my mouth.

“Hey,” he says after he ends the kiss. Bending down he picks up the bag. “How are you?”

I nod. “I’m okay.”

On the counter in the kitchen, there’s a bottle of wine with a glass already poured. “Figured you might—”

I glance over.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know what shape you’d be in.” He chuckles, and sets his apple on the counter then places my bag against the wall in the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

“I’m fine. Really.” I retrieve the glass, toe out of my shoes and sit down on the couch.

He sits down next to me, his arm slung across the back of the couch, wrapping my hair around his fingers. “How’s Pete?”

My head falls back, and I turn his way. “Surprisingly, good.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You told him?”

“I did.”

He leans forward and kisses my lips. “I would’ve handled it.”

“I know.” I kiss him this time, sliding closer into the nook of his arm. “I had to do it.”

“How excited was Jade?”

I lean forward to set the wine glass on the coffee table and then lean back into Reed. My arm stretches across his stomach, his thin sweater smelling of his cologne.

“So excited she cried.”

His lips dip because he’s so aligned with my feelings.

“Am I horrible for moving her here?” My knees come up to my chest and I nuzzle into him more.

His arms tighten around me. “If you hadn’t moved, we wouldn’t have reconnected, so my answer is no.”

I giggle and kiss his jaw, the stubble pricking my skin.

“You’re biased.”

“You did what you had to do. Pete could move here. You don’t have to always be the one to make the sacrifice.” I stare at him with love in my eyes, my hand landing on his cheek and inching up as he inches down until our lips meet.

For a moment, I’m lost in Reed. In his sweetness, his capability to take on my problems with ease, in his feelings for me.

“Okay!” I stand up suddenly with enough enthusiasm to startle Reed. “I am not ruining our first kid-free weekend.”

He chuckles, kissing my stomach. His hands move up the back of my legs until each hand has a chunk of my ass in them.

Using all his force, he pulls me down onto the couch, rolling me to my back. Climbing on top of me, I widen my legs to make room for him. “I have a great idea.” His lips travel up my neck to my jaw until he claims my mouth.

I don’t object to his hands finding their way under my shirt or when they explore down the front of my yoga pants, and I definitely don’t stop him when he reminds me how good we are together on his couch.

He always has the best ideas.

---

The next night, Reed and I go to dinner and to a late show. We’re standing by the bar, me drinking wine and him a whiskey on the rocks waiting for the Broadway show to begin when someone calls out his name.

Lost in our own world, Reed doesn’t hear it right away, so I tap him on the arm. “That guy,” I say, pointing to a man in a suit approaching us.

He’s probably Reed’s age, dressed in a nice suit with a woman trailing along behind him.

“Reed,” he says, putting his hand out.

“Hey, George.” Reed shakes his hand.

The woman smiles at me and I smile back. Reed pulls me into his side, his hand protectively on my hip.

George drops the woman’s hand and since they’re both wearing wedding rings, my guess is it’s his wife. She looks around at the people surrounding us like she’d rather be talking to one of them, apparently not at all interested in the conversation that’s about to commence.

“I haven’t seen you since you were handed the Weinstein case. Is it still expected to go to jury next week?” George looks like an eager puppy whose master just said treat.

Reed stands straighter, but still, his hand hasn’t left my hip. “It is.”

“You know what’ll happen if you win, right?”

Reed shrugs and takes a big gulp of his drink. “There’s no if. I have to win. That slimeball deserves what’s coming to him.”

“You will. That’s why they picked you.” George’s excited voice has a few people turning their heads.

“George MacIlroy, this is Victoria Clarke. George used to work with me until he went on his own in the defense sector.”

I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

He shakes my hand, staring at me and a moment of fear grips me, wondering if he knew Pete. Then he turns around. “This is my wife, Cassie.”

The blonde smiles, shaking our hands with no real enthusiasm.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, and she smiles, continuing to look anywhere but at us.

“Back to Weinstein. I know you’ve gotten some dirt, right? I mean you’re Reed Warner.” George apparently has propped Reed up on some imaginary prosecutor pedestal.

Reed shrugs. “You know I can’t talk about it.”

George nods. “I know, I know. But damn, I was talking to someone the other day about you and when they said you were the ADA assigned to the case I thought to myself, he’s going places.”

Reed glances down at me, and then to George. “I have to win it,” repeating himself once more.

The lights blink, and Reed’s hand tightens on my hip, leading me forward.

“Good to see you.” He nods to George. “Nice to meet you.” He directs his attention to Cassie. “Enjoy the show.”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll see you during the intermission.”

God, I hope not. That was weird.

I smile, and Reed guides us to the entrance to our seats, but before we can make our get-away, George snaps his fingers.

“That’s where I know you from.”

“Just go,” Reed whispers, but I look over my shoulder to see him approaching.

“You’re Pete Keebler’s wife.”

Reed circles around, his hand leaving my body for the first time all night. “Ex-wife.” The word comes out sharp enough to cut glass.

George covers his mouth with his fist. “You’re dating Keebler’s ex? I knew you were ballsy, Reed, but—”

“Mind your own business.” Reed turns us back around and we’re ready to enter the doors to the theater, leaving overzealous George and his neglected wife behind.

“Can I be there when he finds out?” George says to our backs.

Okay Reed, don’t hate me after this.

I circle around.

“I’m not sure where I met you before, George, but I can tell you I don’t remember you. It was most likely at some boring work-related function where you were probably so busy ignoring your wife that you happened to notice me. Tell me, were you as far up Pete’s ass that night as you are up Reed’s tonight? Let’s make one thing clear. We’re not in high school anymore.” I talk to him in a tone like he can’t comprehend what I’m saying. “The gossip mill doesn’t exist. Pete knows I’m dating Reed, not that it’s really any of your business. Go get your wife and show her some affection and then maybe you’ll get lucky tonight and you can stop bitching to all your friends down at the club about how you never get any.”

George stands in front of me, eyes wide, but doesn’t respond. Then his gaze shifts to Reed almost asking, ‘seriously?’ I’m about to turn back around when George laughs. Bent over, uncontrolled bellowing.

“Shit. No wonder you and Keebler didn’t make it. Tell me, how many times were the police called?”

Before I can respond, Reed’s brushing past me. “MacIlroy,” he warns.

I push him back by the chest before we get kicked out.

As George is still bent over, I lean down to speak into his ear. “You can find humor in whatever you want but know this. Reed is the one who’s going to get his cock sucked by me tonight. He’s going to fuck me in every room of his condo and probably a few times tomorrow morning. So, while you’re beating off to porn in your basement while your wife sleeps upstairs, please remember it’s because you’re an asshole.”

George’s fake laughter stops.

I wind my arm through Reed’s and lead him through the doors into the theater.

“Shit, I’m so turned on right now,” Reed says with a groan.

“Good thing we’re in a box and I’m wearing a dress.” I waggle my eyebrows and his hand slides from my hip to my ass, grabbing it and sliding close to me.

“God, you’re one in a million.” He kisses my cheek as the guy leads us upstairs to our own private viewing section where Reed definitely got his money’s worth.