Page 51 of That Reilly Boy
“Thank—”
“And your upcoming wedding, of course,” Liz continues. “You’re certainly in a rush.”
She doesn’t do the nosy glance at my midsection this time. We covered that when she dropped Kevin off for his appointment. Having already congratulated me, Liz keeps all of her attention on Hayden.
“When you know it’s right, why wait?” he responds. It doesn’t sound rehearsed at all, and I envy his ability to deliver lies so smoothly.
It’s also a good reminder to me that Hayden is a smooth liar. While we’re both getting something out of this arrangement, I have to remember nothing he says or does is real, no matter how warm and fuzzy his words make me feel.
“We’re not doing invitations because we don’t want to wait long enough for printers and RSVPs and all of that,” he continues. “But everybody’s welcome to come down to the gazebo on Saturday afternoon and celebrate with us.”
Liz’s cheeks actually flush with pleasure. “We might just do that.”
Kevin’s had enough of the small talk and starts howling for his human to hurry up. Liz leaves me an extraordinarily generous tip, and when I give her a questioning look, she winks and tells me it’s for the wedding.
By the time they leave and I’m finished cleaning up, all I can think about is a bacon cheeseburger with a side of extra-salty french fries. I’ve earned them.
On second thought, maybe I should stick to the regular amount of salt on my fries because I have a wedding dress to wear in a few days.
A wedding dress.
Honestly, that sounds like a great reason for extra salt, not less. And extra dessert, too. A thick slab of hot apple pie with ice cream oozing into all the nooks and crannies. Maybe a mountain of whipped cream on top, too.
“I’m going to drop this in my car,” Hayden says, interrupting my dessert fantasies by holding up the envelope of documents I’d signed. “Where’s your car parked?”
“I walked today. The weather’s gorgeous and if I walk, I don’t have to find a parking space.”
“It’s still gorgeous out there. Should we leave my car and walk to the diner?”
“Sure.” It sounds less awkward than getting in his car and being reminded of my last time riding in it. I am never splitting a bottle of wine with Mel in my shop after hours again. Especially if I haven’t eaten anything.
After he leaves the paperwork in his car—not tossing them on the passenger seat like I would, but securing them in a locked briefcase in his trunk—we head toward the diner.
I’ve taken maybe three steps when his pinky hooks mine and I look up at him. Hayden is smiling at me, one eyebrow quirked, and I roll my eyes before threading my fingers through his.
Our hands being clasped presses the band of the engagement ring against my skin, making me conscious of the ring he’d slipped on my finger.
I really wish the diamond was as fake as our engagement because I don’t need another thing to stress about. Worrying about taking care of the rock on my hand will be high on the list.
But I’m proud of myself as we stroll down the sidewalk hand-in-hand, showing off what a loving couple we are to others out on the street or anybody peeking through a window. My heart’s not racing, my breathing’s normal, and I don’t think my cheeks are even a little pink.
As long as I don’t think too much about that moment in my shop when I’m very sure he was about to kiss me, I’ll be fine.
When we reach the diner, he lets go of my hand to open the door for me. My thumb immediately pokes at the base of my ring finger, making sure the ring is still there. I absolutely can’t lose this ring because there’s no chance I can replace it. There aren’t enough shaggy dogs in Sumac Falls for that, even in spring when the skunks are feisty.
Because it’s a Monday night, the diner’s barely half-full, but it feels like I just stepped on to a stage at sold-out Gilette Stadium when every single person stops eating—or pouring coffee—to watch us. I want to turn on my heel and leave, but Hayden rests his hand at the small of my back and I forget anybody else is even in the room.
How, so many years later, does Hayden’s touch still make my heart rate soar and my skin flush?
He guides me to an empty booth, ignoring the quiet ones in the back. Of course he has to choose one along the front wall, right in the midst of the other diners, and where everybody out on the street can see us through the window.
When Lorene steps out from behind the coffee counter to approach our table before the college kid who works summer shifts can greet us first, I know Hayden’s plan for us to be seen and talked about is a winner. Lorene has owned the diner for as long as I can remember, and she’s one of the most standoffish people in Sumac Falls. Gin says she’s super sweet, but deliberately chooses not to be at work so she doesn’t spend all of her time listening to her customers share every detail of their lives. That was for therapists and bartenders, according to Lorene.
But a Reilly and a Gamble sitting down to share a meal in her diner only days after getting a marriage license must be enough to break through Lorene’s shell because she’s all smiles.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” she says in possibly the friendliest tone I’ve ever heard her use. Word must be getting around that if I’m expecting, I’m not showing yet because she doesn’t try to peek over the table to see my midsection. People assuming this is a shotgun wedding situation and glancing—whether surreptitiously or blatantly—at my stomach wasn’t something I’d foreseen happening. And it’s especially annoying when I’m about to make questionable food choices.
“Thank you,” Hayden says smoothly, shifting his gaze from Lorene to me. “We’re so happy.”
