“Kate—”
“For me,” she tacks on sweetly. I bite my tongue. She sure is asking a lot of me today. The registry is one thing, but pretending to enjoy my time with Reid is another. “Or make an effort to be friends! This is a great opportunity. Make some small talk. Bond. Make my registry. It’ll be fun.”
“If it’ll be so fun, why aren’t you here?”
“Traffic, remember?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Okay, well I have to run! Send me the link when you’re done. Talk soon!”
And with that, the line dies. And that rollercoaster does an upside down loop and now we’re on the path of anger. Anger that she bailed, that she conned me into doing a task that she clearly didn’t want to do, anger that I thought she wanted me to do something with her to help and hang out just to realize she’s using me and my desperation to bond with her against me.
I draw in a slow breath through my nose as I shove the phone back in my purse. My eyes start to sting, but I blink furiously so Reid won’t see any emotion from me besides disdain for him.
“They bailed, didn’t they?” Reid asks.
“Yep.”
“And they want us to do the registry on our own.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Great.” He rungs his fingers through his dark hair and sighs. “What are we supposed to do now?”
I draw in a calming breath, then another, and when the burning in my eyes finally subsides, I turn to face him, ready to pitch my plan. “Well, we could divide and conquer, or we could be cordial and make small talk so that we stop hating each other.”
His brows knit together as he processes my words, then after a beat, he says, “I don’t hate you, Jane.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“We just . . . got off on the wrong foot.”
“And whose fault was that?” I ask.
He purses his lips. “Technically yours.”
I scoff and step around him, looking for an employee who can give us some kind of guidance on how on earth we do in person registries in this day and age. “I’ve seenThe Bear. You were supposed to shout ‘behind’ while walking with trays of food, so really this isyourfault.”
“If I lie and say it was my fault, will you move on from it?”
I spin on him, turning so fast that he barely stops before slamming into me. His chest brushes against mine and I’m hit with his lemon and rosemary scent again. I sneak an inhale before he can notice, then say, “I will never move on from it. Especially not if you lie about it being your fault when it definitely was, and also because you never apologized for being a jerk.”
He stares at me for a minute, the hard line of his lips softening just barely. “I’m sorry for being a jerk.” I never thought I’d actually hear the words from him, and I’m in such shock that I consider accepting his apology, but then he goes and ruins it by saying, “There. Forgive me yet?”
I roll my eyes. “Never.” Then I turn on my heel.
“You can’t stay mad at me forever, Jane,” he calls behind me. I swear I hear amusement in his voice, but I don’t dare turn around to confirm it.
“Watch me,” I shout back over my shoulder.
I finally find an employee in a black polo with a red Walden’s logo embroidered over her heart and she sets both of us upwith scanners I didn’t even realize existed anymore. After she explains how to use them, she sets us off on our own. I don’t ask Reid what he wants to do before I start walking toward the kitchen section, on a mission to scan the most expensive dishes I can find just to spite my sister. I find a set of cobalt and white plates with a pattern that reminds me of an Italian tile. I run my fingers over the bowl, appreciating the smoothness of it. If I ever won the lottery, this would be a set I would stock in my own house. Kate though? She’s much more minimalistic. More whites and beiges and boring neutrals.
But she’s not here to fight me on it, is she? It feels fitting considering her Amalfi Coast wedding. I lift the scanner and smile as it beeps. A wave of vindication washes over me. Damn, it feels good to act out a bit. She’s going to be so mad at me for this later, but maybe she should’ve come to her own stupid registry date. Or maybe she should’ve sent her maid of honor.
I feel Reid’s presence behind me, looming and tall. “I can’t see those dishes in Jason’s dish rack.”
I’m still staring at the bowls with a wave of satisfaction over my tiny rebellion. “Well then they should be here to make their own selections, shouldn’t they?”
