He chuckles. “I’m taking Mills home. She’s not feeling great.”
“What?” I stand up straighter. “Is she okay?”
“Sorry. Yeah, she’s fine. Just more exhausted than she thought she’d be. We came with Isaiah and Ken, but they’re not ready to call it a night just yet, so I’m going to get a rideshare for us.”
“No. No need for that.” I reach into my pocket, pulling out my keys. “Take my truck.”
“You sure? Do you want me to drop you off on our way?”
Glancing back at the door where Reese exited, I will her to walk back in.
Still, she doesn’t.
So, I finish the rest of the bourbon in my hand. I’ve only had this and half a beer, and as tempted as I am to get a little buzz going so I can think about somethingotherthan what just happened on the dance floor, I know I need to stay sober so I can apologize for making a scene when she comes back in.
“I’m going to hang here for a bit,” I tell my future son-in-law. “I’ll grab a rideshare later, but thanks.”
He smacks me on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
Over the next hour, I mingle with my coworkers. I catch up with some of my former players. I stare at the door, waiting for Reese to come back inside.
I know she went and hid in the dugout, but it’s been over an hour. She should’ve been back by now.
It’s then the sobering realization sinks in that she isn’t coming back to the party because she already left.
What is wrong with me? Why did I feel the need to tell her that here of all places? She preemptively asked me to stay away tonight. She essentially glued herself to her grandfather to ensure that I would.
And the second I had her to myself, I practically begged her to be with me. Threw my job on the line and everything. For someone who can usually read a situation through a clear lens, my feelings for Reese have me spinning out of control and ridding my brain of all rational thought.
I might not know what the hell I’m doing when it comes to Reese, but I do know if she’s not here anymore, then I don’t want to be either.
Making my rounds, I say a few goodbyes, congratulate Arthur one more time, then head out the side door to go home for the night.
A tinge of humidity still suffocates the air as I step outside, and the suit I’m wearing doesn’t help the situation. But it’s not nearly as bad as it’ll feel later this summer. I pull up the rideshare app on my phone, request a car, and stand on the curb as I wait for it to arrive.
A few minutes pass and a car pulls up along the curb in front of me, but it’s not the one the app told me to look out for. It’s a little red Porsche that’s far too pristine to be used as a taxi.
The tinted passenger window begins to descend and when I dip my head to look inside, I find Reese behind the wheel.
I know she has a couple of cars and apparently one of them is a Porsche. And unsurprisingly, she looks fucking unreal in it.
“Need a ride?” she asks.
I hold up my phone to show her the screen. “Just called for one.”
The unmistakable click of the passenger door unlocking fills the silence between us.
“Cancel it. I’ll take you home.”
That desperation to talk to her comes back with a thundering amount of hope that this could be my opportunity to do just that. It’s what causes me to cancel my ride and slide into the car with her.
It’s not meant for someone of my size, that’s for damn sure. But I can put up with a bit of physical discomfort if that means I might be able to fix what just happened between us.
Reese pulls onto the street and starts driving.
“I thought you left,” I say into the otherwise silent car.
She hesitates for a long moment. “I just needed some time to think.”
