Page 85 of The Grumpy Billionaire
Saved by the wait-staff. That had been close.
Reid scowled, but stood as well, taking my hand and following the maître d’, who’d be pushing up daisies on the hillside if looks could kill.
The dining room was lovely but crowded. Our dinner conversation was light with no further threat of frightening declarations. After dinner, we drove back into the center of Eastport Bay, where Reid managed to find a rare open parking spot on Main Street near Brady’s Wharf.
Though it was a Wednesday night, the area was hopping with tourists. People strolled along the ancient brick-lined street, streaming in and out of the plentiful bars and restaurants.
Reid took my hand, leading me toward the historic Eastport Cinema. I’d always loved the place. The Greek Revival-style art house had been built in the 1800’s and now featured indie films, classics, and unique cinema events like fundraisers, birthday parties, and weddings.
When we got close enough to read the marquee, I stopped walking and let out a sigh. It read, “Closed for Private Event.”
Turning to Reid, I poked out a pouty bottom lip. “That’s too bad. This would have been a great place to see a movie. It’s okay. We can just go back into Providence or drive over to Warwick and see what’s showing.”
I tugged at his hand, anticipating a walk back to his car.
But Reid’s feet stayed planted. He tugged back at my hand, pulling me toward him and the closed theater.
“What are we doing?” I asked, allowing him to lead me.
He gave me a mischievous grin. “Let’s sneak in.”
My protest was cut off when the theater door opened, and the manager greeted Reid. “Good evening Mr. Mancini. Welcome. So glad you and your lovely guest could join us.”
Reid looked back over his shoulder and gave me a wicked grin. Shaking my head, I stepped into the theater, which was empty except for us and the manager and, I assumed, a projectionist somewhere. We selected seats in the center of the middle row, and the lights went down.
“What are we seeing?” I whispered, expecting the latest first-run film or, knowing his clout, some coming-soon blockbuster that wasn’t even in theaters yet.
Reid put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. The movie’s about to start.”
“You are too much,” I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
Reid turned his head so that my kiss landed on his mouth instead, and he took advantage of the pre-movie darkness to kiss me in a way that would’ve been completely inappropriate had there been anyone else around.
After a minute he pulled back and whispered. “No—I’m just right—for you.”
I opened my eyes, taking in the straightforward, emotion-filled look on his face. The attack-butterflies had found me again. They were dive-bombing my insides.
Music filled the theater. The screen lit up, saving me from having to respond. As soon as I heard the little kid’s cough and the bleep-bleep noises of an outdated video game, I recognized the movie. I turned to the screen and gasped.
Yes, I was right—The Princess Bride. Based on Reid’s self-satisfied expression, he knew he’d done well.
I looked back at the screen, amazed, moved by his gift. I’d watched the video at least a hundred times in high school. Reid used to tease me about it, even called me “Buttercup” at times, and of course I would play along and call him “Farm Boy.”
He’d rented this theater so I could see my favorite movie on the big screen for the very first time.
Squeezing his hand, I blinked back tears. Then I settled in, prepared to be carried away by the sappy, epic, hilarious story of never-ending, time-and-separation-defeating love.
As the on-screen grandfather’s storytelling dissolved into images of Buttercup and Westley’s falling-in-love scenes, I found myself mouthing the lines I knew by heart.
I was surprised to hear Reid’s low murmur beside me, reciting Westley’s lines along with him.
“I will always come for you,” he said, his eyes on the screen.
“But how can you be sure?” Buttercup and I answered.
“This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?” Westley and Reid asked in unison.
My voice almost choked with tears as I recited my next line, the one Buttercup says when she believes her first love is gone forever, “I will never love again.”
