Page 29 of The Reunion

I take a long sip of rosé once it’s over with. “That,” I say, “was entirely worth the hassle.”

“We didnotthink those through,” he says, laughing.

“Nobodythought those through!”

I hear a howl of laughter across the yard, over by the fountain, where Sasha-Kate has managed to crack one of the stoniest Fanline execs.

“Only Sasha-Kate could get Bob Renfro to drop his guard likethat,” Ransom says. “Did I ever tell you what happened when I first met him?”

No, I want to say, and we both realize at the same time that of course he hasn’t told me—Bob Renfro and all things Fanline only came into our lives this year, and until very recently, our text thread was silent. I might be imagining things, but I think Ransom’s cheeks look a little pink.

“I was all set up to do one of their original series,” he goes on, “a spy thriller that eventually fell apart, and Bob was sitting next to me in one of the meetings. I was shifting through some paperwork they wanted me to look over and accidentally spilled my water in his lap. Like,allof it. Ice included.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. “What did he do?”

Bob Renfro is the most prim, uptight man I’ve met in my entire life. A total silver fox—but an emotional vault.

“He was wearing these wiry little reading glasses, and he gave me this… this death glare over the top of them. It’s a miracle he gave us the green light for the reunion, knowing I’m involved.”

“I’m certain that man loves his bank account much more than he hated a pile of ice in his lap.”

And now we’re both laughing, and his eyes—hiseyes, they are absolutely magnetic, all those shades of green—I can’t look away.

“It’s been really good being around you again,” he suddenly says. “And I wanted to make sure you’re okay—we haven’t really had a chance to talk, just us, since the Fanline dinner—and—”

He cuts himself off. He’s definitely blushing now—I’ve never seen him like this, nervous. Nervous aroundme.

“No, yeah—I’m good,” I say quickly, and his relief is visible. “Better than good.” We lock eyes. “Better than expected.”

He holds my gaze a little longer—a minute, an hour, who can say? “Has it been hard?” he asks. “The interviews, I mean. You haven’t done them in so long.”

“Have you been looking for my nonexistent interviews all these years, Ransom Joel?”

He grins, dimples deepening. “More than I should probablyadmit.” His tone is light, but his eyes see right down to my soul. “It’s been okay this week, though? No one else has crossed the line?”Like that reporter on the red carpet, he doesn’t have to add. Like what happened years ago, too, in our final season.

I shrug. “You know how it goes. They’ve dug a little deeper than I’d like, but not so much it hurts.” Yet. “How about you?”

He lets out a long exhale. “It’s getting harder to keep the breakup a secret,” he says. “Everyone wants to know about Gemma, what she’s up to, where she’s been. ‘Busy season for both of us’ just isn’t going to cut it for much longer.”

“I’m sure our diner photo didn’t help,” I say. He doesn’t have to answer for me to know I’m right.

“I’ve kept quiet because that’s what she wants, but it’s going to get out eventually,” he says. “The press has been swarming her for a while now, and she’s always been so overwhelmed by it. She couldn’t even get to her bookstore without paparazzi once people thought we were engaged, and it didn’t help when she found out there was no substance to the rumors at all—so—yeahhhh.” He drags the word out with a grimace. “She’s had a rough few weeks.”

“So,” I say, at a loss. “Mutual, then?”

“Would have been, if she hadn’t broken it off first.” He looks right in my eyes. “You and Ford were the first people I told.”

We’ve had a thousand moments just like this, scripted, but no less intense. But this: this is real.

“I’m still shocked you’ve actually managed to keep it quiet,” I say, a small surge of pleasure at the knowledge that he trusted me with the news.

“It won’t be pretty when they find out,” he says. “They always make my exes the villains no matter what I say. I hate that for her.”

He’s right. Everyone loves to love Ransom—and by extension, they love to hate on anyone who hurts him. If Gemma couldn’t bear the attention from the press when they thought she’d gotten engaged to Ransom, how much worse will it be when they find out she broke up with him? They won’t care if it was mutual. They’ll spin everything in favor of their golden boy, and Gemma will take the heat—I’ve seenmore than one of his exes labeled a heartbreaker even when Ransom hasn’t seemed heartbroken at all.

“It’s good of you to care about that,” I say, finding his eyes again. “Not everyone would be so kind.”

Something shifts in him, something subtle—a spark in his already intense expression, like we’re seeing each other for the very first time. Of all his many layers he’s shown me over the years, this is a peek at something I haven’t seen.

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