Page 50 of Heart of Stone
I spent substantially more time in my bed this morning thinking about that, about Reid and all that he was making me feel. As good as it felt, there was a small part of me that wished I could make it stop. Because while it was clear Reid was doing his best to make amends for how he’d treated me the first few weeks he’d been here, I wasn’t convinced there was anythingmore behind it. The last thing I needed to do was get my hopes up over something like this that wasn’t ever going to happen.
It was with that thought that I finally got myself out of bed. I went about my morning routine, grabbing a light breakfast and getting myself dressed for the day.
And my mindset had shifted completely at that point. The only thoughts consuming my mind were about the day ahead of me—painting pottery followed by a delicious holiday lunch. I couldn’t wait.
I walked to my front door, opened it, and immediately jumped back with a shout. Reid was there, leaning against the railing at the edge of the porch, and he was wearing the most radiant smile.
“What are you doing here?”
Maybe it was the fact my heart was still racing from being startled like I had been by him, but my words came out a bit harsher than they likely would have in any other scenario.
“So, I was wondering…” He lifted his hand to show me what he’d brought with him. “Are we supposed to bring our own paintbrushes with us to this pottery thing?”
My eyes darted between the two brushes in his hand and the joyful expression on his face. Still so stunned, my lips parted and closed several times as I tried to wrap my head around what was happening. Did Reid intend to go painting with me this morning?
When I remained silent for far too long, he pushed off the railing he’d been leaning his hips against and walked toward me. “I was thinking I’d like to spend the day with you today, Natalia. Would you like to spend your day with me?”
I licked my lips, doing my best not to let it show just how much I enjoyed the sound of his voice, especially when he said my name. “But I… I’m going to paint pottery and have lunch with the guests.”
His eyes dropped briefly to my lips before he nodded his understanding. “Yeah, I know. And I’d like to join you, if that’s okay.”
“It is, but what about Barrett and Sylvia?”
“What about them?”
Did he really need me to answer that? I thought it was obvious. Sweeping my hand out, palm up, I explained, “It’s Thanksgiving. Aren’t they expecting you to spend the holiday with them?”
“If my mom hadn’t had a heart attack and broken her hip, it’s likely I’d still be in Pittsburgh right now,” he shared. “I probably wouldn’t have come back here until Christmas. Anyway, now that I’m here, I told them I’d stop over for dinner. I was hoping you’d come along.”
I blinked in surprise. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. Why?”
I would not cry. I would not cry. I would not cry.
I shook my head, swallowing roughly, and waved my hand in the air. “No reason. I… I’d love to join you. I can bring some of my caramel apple cookies I made.”
He smiled. “You don’t need to bring anything, but caramel apple cookies sound delicious.”
“My mom used to make them every year for Thanksgiving when I was younger, and I’m so glad I still have that recipe, because these cookies are my favorite.”
Reid’s features softened as he reached out a hand and curled his fingers around the outer cap of my shoulder. “Happy Thanksgiving, Natalia.”
My throat grew painfully tight at the tenderness in his touch and warmth in his expression. “Happy Thanksgiving, Reid.”
He dropped his hand from my shoulder and asked, “Are you ready to go?”
I nodded. “I am.”
Reid jerked his head to the side. “Lock up, and we can walk over together.”
Refusing to waste another minute, I did as he suggested. I locked up, and we left. And the next thing I knew, we were browsing through our options for pottery pieces. If Reid hadn’t shown up on my doorstep this morning, I likely would have just picked a pretty bowl to fill with fruit and painted it.
But now I wanted it to be a bit more special than that. This felt like an occasion to commemorate, and I didn’t want to rush myself in making a decision. There were a few unique pieces—decorative pumpkins or leaf-shaped snack dishes—that certainly fit the bill for me when it came to how festive things typically got for me at the holidays. It was one of those that I could have seen myself picking up to paint.
But then something caught my eye.
Plates.
