Reed’s head lolls against the headrest as he studies my face. “That’s different. Your business works.”
“My business works because I believed in it even when nobody else did. Just like yours works.” I brush a strand of hair from his forehead, noting how warm his skin feels. “The difference is, I’ve had years to develop a thick skin about the criticism. You’re still learning.”
He closes his eyes at my touch. “Maybe I should just take my father’s job. At least then I’d be okay financially.”
“Okay how? Do you need rent money?” I let my fingers trail down to cup his cheek, feeling the scratch of stubble against my palm. “Reed, look at me.”
He opens his eyes, and I see the boy he must have been—eager to please, desperate for approval, terrified of being a disappointment.
“I have news,” I say. “The city finally paid me. Direct deposit hit my account this morning.”
His brows furrow in confusion. “That’s … that’s great. You can pay your bills now.”
“I can pay my bills and then some.” I lean closer, watching recognition dawn in his expression. “But more importantly, it means I’m not here because I owe you anything anymore. I’m not obligated to help you or support you or care about your success.”
“Eliza—”
“I’m here because I want to be. My whole damn family showed up tonight because they see how much you matter to me.” My voice gets softer. “I want to go to that gala with you tomorrow night, Reed. Not because you’re going to pitch trees to rich people, but because it’ll be fancy and fun and we can play dress-up like fairy tale characters.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, the first genuine one I’ve seen all evening. “Fairy tale characters?”
“You’ll be my dapper prince, and I’ll be your fierce princess. We’ll eat fancy food and dance badly and laugh at people who take themselves too seriously.” I trace my thumb along his cheekbone. “If anyone asks about your trees, we’ll flash the fancy photos Eva put online.”
“You really want to do that? Even though I’m a schlump?”
I chuckle. “When I met you, I was wearing two sports bras to cancel out the holes. I thrive among schlumps.”
Reed catches my hand and presses it against his cheek. “How did I get so lucky?”
“You didn’t get lucky. You got stubborn about pursuing something you believed in, and I happen to find mulish men sexy as hell.”
A Christmas song comes on the radio—something soft and jazzy about snow falling—and for a moment we just sit in my truck, surrounded by the swell of brass instruments.
“I should get you inside,” I say. “You need water and sleep.”
“Will you come up? Make sure I don’t fall down the stairs?”
I study his face, looking for signs that this is the alcohol talking, but his eyes are clearer now, more focused. “If you want me to.”
“I always want you to.”
His apartment building is modest but well-maintained, with garland wrapped around the stair railings and tiny white lights outlining each doorway. As we climb to the second floor, Reed’s arm around my shoulders more for comfort than support, I notice a small, wrapped package hanging from his door handle.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the gift.
Reed blinks at it in surprise, then carefully removes the tag. “It’s from Mrs. Gustavo next door. Homemade cookies.” His voice gets thick again, but not from the eggnog this time.
“See?” I squeeze his waist. “You are cared for. You are loved. Mrs. Gustavo doesn’t bake cookies for people she thinks are wasting their lives.”
His apartment is exactly what I expected—clean, organized, but somehow warmer than I imagined. There’s a small Christmas tree on the corner table, decorated with simple white lights and ornaments I recognize from the market vendors we met. A stack of books sits on his coffee table next to a mug that says “World’s Okayest Scientist.”
“Did you decorate?” I ask, hanging my coat on his kitchen chair.
“A little.” He sets Mrs. Gustavo’s cookies on the counter and turns to face me. “Eliza, about what you said in the car…”
“What about it?”
“You really think I’m prince material?”
