Page 67 of Not Over You

Fuck. My heart thrummed in my ears. Why would he want to share a room with me? Bad idea. He’d be replying with some lame reason why he couldn’t make it. Plans fail. Just like we did. When the dots finally reappeared, I held my breath.

Reed: Sorry, a group of ladies recognized me and asked for a selfie.?? Regarding the room, we’ll make it work. I promise to be on my best behavior. Besides, our ‘relationship’ will be more believable if we share the same room.

No argument there.

Me: Have a safe flight. I’ll see you when you get here. Give the front desk clerk your name. Room 2248.

Reed: Got it. See you soon.

“You can’t hide your excitement from me, mia bella.” Noni sat across from me, eyes lit with amusement. “You’re happy Reed has stumbled back into your life.” She brought her cup of tea to her mouth, which curved into an all-knowing smile. “Frankly, I am too.”

“Noni, he’s only doing me a favor. It’s not like we’re gonna fall back in love and get married.” I took a bite of buttered bread. “Besides, I’m not real wife material; just ask Chad.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, bellita.” Noni paused, shaking her head. “What Chad and Sofie did is nothing short of unforgivable. You showing up here shows your character is much stronger than theirs.” She reached over and placed her hand over mine. “Reed blowing back into your life is no accident. Il momento è giusto. The time is right. We all know you two had some growing up to do.”

After our split, my grandmother, beautiful and smart, told me Reed and I weren’t over, that we just needed to spread our wings to love each other even better than before.

“Have you told Reed why Chad…” Noni trailed off, tiptoeing around the reason my ex dumped me.

“No, but I’ll tell him this weekend.”

CHAPTER 9

Reed

* * *

“You plannin’ on popping the question?” A gruff voice pulled my attention away from the window. When I turned to face the gray-haired gentleman sitting in the first-class seat beside me, he gestured toward the black velvet box held firmly in my hand. “You’ve got a ring in there, right?”

“No”—I hesitated, shaking my head—“I mean, well, yeah, there’s a ring in here. But no. I’m not popping the question.”

His brows pinched. “Did you change your mind, son?”

“Oh, no.” I chuckled. “This ring’s for a fake engagement.”

“Fake?” He tipped his chin forward. “Harry Winston’s mighty expensive for a fake engagement, don’t you think?”

“Sure do,” I agreed. “But I bought it six years ago when I planned to ask my girlfriend to marry me.”

“And, what happened then?”

I shrugged. “Never got the chance to ask. We split up, driven apart by our careers.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He shook his head in disappointment. “So, what’s the story behind your fake engagement?”

“Funny thing is she’s the same girl.”

He crossed his arms. “No freaking way.”

“Yep. By chance, we recently reconnected and, to make a long story short, I offered to be her plus-one at her sister’s wedding, and she asked me to be her fake fiancé. Before I knew it—”

“You said yes.”

I opened the box, revealing a sparkling Harry Winston. “At least I have a ring for the occasion.”

He adjusted his black-rimmed glasses, then peered at the five-carat. “Indeed, you do.” His gaze flicked from the ring back to me. “What made you hold onto it all these years?”

I thought about his question for a moment, then said, “Hope.”

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