Page 102 of Breakaway Hearts

“I don’t know,” I admit with a laugh. “I want to try everything.”

“Then we’ll get one of everything,” he says simply, in the kind of voice where I can’t tell if he’s joking or serious.

“Uh, actually, I think I’ll get the gnocchi,” I say in an attempt to mitigate a potentially overzealous Reese. “I don’t think I could manage the entire menu.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Reese,” I warn. “You aren’t ordering the entire menu.”

“Whatever you say.” He gives me an innocent look.

The waiter comes over, and we place our orders. Thankfully, Reese decides on just a margherita pizza instead of everything on the menu, and we order a bottle of red to go with it all.

“No whiskey?” he jokes.

“I feel like whiskey isn’t the vibe tonight, as much as I hate to admit it.”

I swirl the wine in my glass and take a sip. I’m positive it will go well with our food, but I can’t help but miss the taste of Blanton’s.

The food comes out relatively quickly, and we dig in. The gnocchi is rich and chewy, and the sausage has a delectable spice that stings my tongue in just the right way. When I glance up from my plate, Reese has somehow already devoured half his pizza. Before I know it, our plates are empty and the waiter comes back with a dessert menu.

“Chocolate cake for you?” Reese guesses, knowing me well enough to know I’llalwaysgo for the chocolate item on the menu. “I want the cannoli.”

“Yes, please.”

We put in our orders, and our desserts arrive just a few minutes later.

The chocolate cake looks rich and decadent, and I let out an awed breath as the waiter sets it down. Lord, it looks delicious. This is the kind of restaurant that clearly takes their desserts seriously.

Reese sinks his teeth into his pistachio cannoli, making a satisfied noise. I pick up my fork, then pause just before I dig in.

Reese Sutton’s Rebound: Whale or Woman?

A sour feeling spreads through my stomach as the words flash through my mind. I put my fork down and take a slow, deep breath.

“You know, I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach,” I say with a shaky laugh that sounds unconvincing even to myself. “I’m not really hungry anymore. Maybe I’ll see if they can pack this up to go.”

Reese frowns, shooting me a curious glance. “Okay. Do you feel alright?”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m fine.”

I look down at my lap, trying to stop the tears from rising to my eyes. Fuck. Why is this happening right now? Why do things like this always fester in my mind and worm their way into my thoughts even when I don’t want them to? Austin’s words and that stupid tabloid article, all this stupid fat-shaming that I’ve worked so hard to get over. Why is it that one simple thing can send me spiraling backward?

“Firefly?” Reese asks, his voice softening. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not nothing.” He ducks his head a little, trying to catch my gaze. “Firefly. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I hesitate, but when I look up and see his earnest face, full of genuine concern, I can’t keep it inside anymore.

“I saw a tabloid article today that called me your rebound and a whale, and I—fuck, I thought I had brushed it off, but it’s just sitting in my head, making me feel like shit. I want to be the kind of girlfriend that you can flaunt, that you’re proud to have on your arm, even if it’s fake. So I just… I don’t think I want dessert.” I push the plate of chocolate cake across the table toward him. “You can have it.”

Reese looks down at the cake and then back up at me. His face is unreadable in the dimly lit restaurant, but I can tell that his jaw is clenched.

“Callie,” he says slowly. “Come here.”

“What?” I shift in my seat but don’t get up. “Why?”

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