I giggled. “Yeah, you did.”
We were silent for a moment, shuffling our feet like we did that day in the hallway when he ran into me and accidentally knocked me down.
“Reece?”
He looked up. “Hmm?”
“I love you, too.”
His eyes went wide, and then he narrowed them suspiciously.
“You’re just saying that because you think you have to.”
“Not true,” I countered. “I do love you. I knew when I stood outside the office door looking at you. I knew when the urge to be next to you overrode my 7:58 A.M. ritual. That’s why I didn’t wait. I couldn’t see your face and not be in the same room as you.”
“Wow.”
“Too much?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s . . . it’s just that no one’s ever wanted me.” He caught himself. “That much! I meant that no one’s ever wanted me that much.”
“Too much?” I asked again.
“It’s not too much at all. I love it,” he replied.
I relaxed. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“I’m sorry for biting your neck,” he replied.
“Why?”
“Wasn’t it too much?” he asked.
I shook my head.
A smile crept along his face.
“However,” I continued, “we probably shouldn’t make out at the office anymore.”
“Good idea,” Reece said.
We checked each other over—I wiped lipstick off the corner of Reece’s mouth, and he helped me smooth my hair—and then we exited the copy room.
We carefully avoided each other for the remainder of the day. I fielded questions from Marjorie while Reece endured an intense interrogation from Christopher. We relayed our individual conversations that evening over dinner.
“Well, it’s official,” I said. “The entire office will know by Wednesday.”
“Chris won’t say anything,” Reece said.
“No, but Marjorie and Patricia will.” I scowled. “Patricia’s worse than Marjorie.”
“Look, I think people will discuss it for about two seconds and then move on,” Reece replied. He dumped a large helping of pasta on my plate.
“Reece, I can’t eat all of this,” I said.
“You know I’ll finish what you don’t.”
We sat at my table—only my table so far—and I decided to bring it up.
“Reece?”
“Hmm?”
“We’ve been dating for weeks now,” I began, “and we’ve even exchanged the coveted ‘I love you.’”
“Uh huh.” He took a sip of wine.
“So why haven’t you invited me to your place?” I asked.
He paused. I waited.
“Well, I guess I didn’t think about it because there’s not much there,” he said. “Just a bed and a couch. Your place is so much more inviting.”
“That’s really the reason?”
“Truly. My place isn’t anything special. I mean, you can come over whenever you want, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”
I thought that was peculiar.
“Why wouldn’t I like it?”
He thought for a moment. “It’s lonely.”
I bit into my garlic bread and chewed thoughtfully. I could tell he felt the need to explain further.
“I’m just there by myself. I was gonna move in with my friend, Camden, but then I decided that’s stupid—rooming together at thirty-two.”
I nodded. “When did you meet Camden?”
“Oh, he’s a childhood friend. He moved here about three years ago, convinced me to move down when he heard about an opening at our firm. He kind of knows Chris. By association, I guess.”
“Where did you guys grow up?”
“Baltimore,” Reece replied.
“So that accounts for the slight accent,” I said, sipping my wine.
“It thickens up when I’ve had a few,” he replied.
I studied his face. “You say ‘Yous guys,’ don’t you?”
He grinned. “When I’m drunk, yeah.”
I recapped. “So, Camden moved here, and then you moved here in June?”
“July.”
“And you basically hang out with Camden and Chris?”
“Only guys I know.”
“And your family is still in Baltimore?”
Reece averted his eyes. “Yeah.”
Sounded like a complete lie, but why would someone lie about where his family lives? It was a little weird, but I dismissed it for now.
“Sisters? Brothers?” I couldn’t believe I was only just now asking.
“Nope.”
“Was that lonely?”
Reece shook his head. “Okay, Nosy, my turn. How do I be a better boyfriend to you with your OCD?”
I wasn’t expecting that.
“Well?” Reece prodded.
I scratched my head. “Umm, no one’s ever asked me that.”
“Okay.” He smiled and waited.
“I . . . you . . . so you’re my boyfriend?” I asked. “Like officially speaking?”
“Yes. How could you not know that?” he replied. “I told you I love you. Of course I’m your boyfriend.”
The instant giddiness consumed my heart and made me feel like a seventeen-year-old all over again. It was ridiculous. And amazing. And alarming. I realized not even Brian made me feel giddy. What had I been missing? Why couldn’t this man have moved to Wilmington twelve years ago?
“You said you love me,” I said suddenly.
Reece furrowed his brow. “I do.”
“We haven’t even done it.”
“I wasn’t aware that was a prerequisite.”
I bit my lip. “It’s not. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You’re right. I do,” I said. “It’s just that sex is usually a factor in the ‘I love you’ decision-making process.”
“Is it?”
I shrugged.
“How can you look like you jumped off the cover of some bubblegum retro teen magazine and be so jaded?”
I laughed. “Stop making me feel like a goody-goody.”
“And then you say things like ‘floosy’ and ‘goody-goody,’ and I just wanna tie you to the bed and violate you in all kinds of inappropriate ways.”
I choked on my pasta. “What?”
“Bailey, it’s truth time.”
“Uh oh,” I replied, wiping my mouth. I gulped down the rest of my wine. Reece poured me another glass.
“Well, you brought up sex.” He took another bite of pasta and watched my face as he chewed. He took his time, and once he swallowed, he brought the wine glass to his lips slowly and drank.
“Just ask me already!” I cried.
He leaned back in his chair, cradling the glass in his hand. “Have you ever been tied up?”