~Fallon~
It wasn’t supposed to be a date.
Just lunch. Just sunlight. Just a slow afternoon with Reid at one of our old spots—a rooftop café in West Hollywood, tucked between boutiques and palm trees, quiet enough that no one asked questions and the servers usually pretended not to care.
But apparently, the world had other plans.
We’d barely been seated when the first person recognized us. A young server with a nose ring and a shaky grip on our iced lattes did a full double take like she’d just seen a ghost.
“Oh—sorry,” she stammered, cheeks turning a fast shade of red. “You’re… um… you’re Fallon Prescott, right?”
I gave her a soft smile. “That’s me.”
Her gaze flicked to Reid. She didn’t say his name, but I saw it register behind her eyes.
Reid Callahan.
Aren’t they divorced?
Weren’t there press statements?
Wasn’t there another guy?
But she didn’t ask. She just smiled too brightly and disappeared behind a tray of mimosas.
I reached for my drink, fingers brushing the condensation. “Thin
