Reeve makes love to me for the first time in months, and the careful way he cherishes and worships me, ensuring I’m not in any pain, brings tears to my eyes. I’ve missed this closeness between us. The way he clings to me like I’m his entire world has been missing from our intimate moments this past year. Although we still have a lot to discuss and things to work through, I feel like we might have turned a corner, and we might be through the worst of it.
How very wrong I end up being.
“You look beautiful,” Reeve says, appearing in my doorway the following morning. He returned home earlier to shower and change before coming back with his dad for Christmas lunch. Spending Christmas Day with the Lancasters has been our tradition for as long as I can remember. Yet, this was the first year Mom asked if I wanted to rescind Reeve’s and Simon’s invitation. Although my parents are pleased Reeve is trying to make amends, they are still in overprotective mode, and any potential risk to my recovery is approached with caution.
Unfortunately, Reeve falls into that category.
Now I’m feeling better physically, I am better prepared to tackle my emotional needs, and I’m determined to enjoy the holidays and get things back on track with my boyfriend. The new year is a fresh start. A clean slate. And an opportunity to reset things with Reeve.
“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” My gaze appreciatively roams his delectable form, approving of his ripped dark jeans and blue button-down shirt. His smooth jawline is devoid of the stylish stubble he wears to play his role, and he looks more like my Reeve. That helps to reassure me.
Striding across my bedroom, he quickly closes the gap between us. Careful not to hurt my injured hand, he reels me into his arms. My black, gold, and red dress swirls around my thighs as he holds me close, leaning in to kiss me. The urgency of his kiss surprises me, because he’s been extra gentle with me since the attack, and there’s an undercurrent of desperation that concerns me. I ease back a little, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” He smiles, but it seems off.
The edge slides off my euphoria. “Just tell me.”
“It’s nothing.”
I pin him with a warning look. Has he forgotten how well I know him? “Don’t lie to me, Reeve. I don’t want to get into all our shit on Christmas morning, but I don’t want you keeping more secrets from me. Something is obviously on your mind, so spill.”
“Saffron keeps messaging me,” he admits, sighing. “I’ve told her nothing will happen between us, and I can’t hang out with her anymore, but she’s not giving up without a fight.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “She’s going to be difficult. I’m sorry.”
Acid crawls up my throat. “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m really not. She’s a scheming bitch, and she’s not going to let you go easily.”
Reeve winds his fingers through my hair. “You know I love you, Viv, right? No matter what she says, you know you’re the only one I love.”
Raw fear shimmers in his eyes, sprouting goose bumps all over my arms. “Are you telling me everything?”
His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat as he nods, not making eye contact, and my stomach lurches painfully.
He’s lying.
I’m about to call him on it when Dad pops his head in the door, telling me it’s time to leave for church. We’re not a very religious family, but we attend mass at our local church every Christmas Day.
After church, we return to the house, and I help Mom with the dinner. Christmas and Easter are the only times of the year when Mom sends the staff home for the holidays and we have to fend for ourselves. I actually love it. Cooking a Christmas feast with Mom is one of my favorite things, and we always drink mimosas and chat while we’re getting everything ready. The men enjoy some drinks in Dad’s study while we are slaving away, but they know they’re on cleanup duty. We are all about equality in this house.
Conversation is flowing freely around the table as we eat our sumptuous dinner, but I notice Reeve is hardly eating anything, toying with his food and looking distracted. I place my hand on his thigh under the table and whisper in his ear. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to you,” he whispers. His knee taps on the floor as his cell vibrates in his pocket.
“We’re in the middle of dinner, Reeve. It’ll have to wait,” I whisper back. Butterflies run amok in my chest as I take in his pale complexion and the tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow. “What did you do?”