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หน้าหลัก / Romance / Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract / Two hundred and one

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Two hundred and one

ผู้เขียน: Ese Gwede
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2025-06-08 14:08:57

~Reid~

I couldn’t breathe.

The moment her name lit up on my screen, my lungs seemed to collapse under the weight of what it might mean. I sat up so fast on the couch that the half-finished drink in my hand spilled across the glass table. I didn’t even care. My eyes were fixed on the message.

“I’ll be back in LA soon. We can talk when I get home.”

It wasn’t long. It wasn’t detailed. But it was everything. She was coming back.

For the past few days, I’d lived in a loop of regret, anger, and self-loathing. Watching the sun rise and fall from the same chair in the living room like time didn’t exist anymore. I’d let my calls go unanswered. I ignored meetings, texts, interviews. I didn’t care. None of it mattered. Not without her.

I reread the message again. And again. Like it might suddenly say something else. Like it might disappear.

A second chance. That’s what it felt like. A breath of possibility after weeks of silence and distance and cold, aching space between us. My fingers hovered
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  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   Two hundred and seventy

    ~Fallon~The smell of coffee reached me before I even opened my bedroom door.Warm, rich, familiar.For one surreal second, I forgot.Forgot the press. The lawyers. The past.Forgot that my heart had been dragged over broken glass and left to pulse alone.I forgot because that smell meant something once.Comfort. Mornings in bed. His quiet voice saying, “Your turn to pour.”But then I opened the door.And there he was.Reid Callahan, barefoot in my kitchen. Like we hadn’t burned everything down.His shirt was wrinkled from sleep, sleeves casually rolled, his hair a soft mess that somehow made him look younger. He moved like he’d done this before—because he had. A hundred mornings just like this. Except none of them were like this.This one carried weight.History. Hesitation. Hope I didn’t ask for.He turned at the sound of the door and stilled when he saw me. For a beat, the world stilled too.“Good morning,” he said, voice hushed like it might scare the moment off.I swallowed. “Mor

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   Two hundred and sixty nine

    ~Fallon~I couldn’t sleep.Not really.I’d tried. Climbed under the duvet, pulled it over my head, even turned on white noise just to drown out the buzz in my mind. None of it worked. The world was quiet, but my thoughts were not.My body was still in bed.But my mind was in the living room—curled up beside a man I swore I’d stopped waiting for.Reid Callahan.Asleep. In my space. In my life.Like he hadn’t once walked away from it all.I flipped over for the fifth time, cheek pressed to the cool side of the pillow. Still wide awake. I could picture him exactly as I left him—sprawled sideways on my couch, one hand tucked beneath his jaw, the other dangling off the edge. The soft rise and fall of his chest. The same soft gray T-shirt he’d had on all evening, the one that always looked too good on him for no good reason.He’d fallen asleep before I’d even made it to my room.I’d told him the guest bed was free, that he didn’t have to crash out there like a stray. He’d just shrugged, mur

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   Two hundred and sixty eight

    ~Fallon~The knock came at 6:03 p.m.I heard it before I saw him—three even taps, just loud enough to be sure. Not rushed. Not hesitant either. Just… deliberate. Like someone who knew he shouldn’t be here, but showed up anyway.I was already near the window, pretending not to be.I’d stood there for fifteen minutes, watching the streetlights flicker on one by one, the sidewalk catching the amber glow of dusk. Pretending I was just checking the weather. Just killing time. Pretending I hadn’t changed my top twice, swapped my earrings once, or lit a candle I told myself was for “ambience,” not nerves.But it was Reid.And no matter what story I tried to tell myself, my body still remembered him.It remembered the sound of his voice. The weight of his silence. The feel of his gaze—always more than just eyes on skin, always sharper, like he could see through me.I exhaled through my nose. Steady. Grounded.Then opened the door.He was standing there, hands full—coat zipped halfway, eyes so

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   Two hundred and sixty seven

    ~Fallon~I didn’t circle the date.I didn’t mark the calendar or set any reminders.But somehow, my body knew. My breath shortened on Thursdays. My heart settled into a quiet thrum, anticipating something it didn’t have permission to want.Friday was coming.And with it—Reid.I wasn’t supposed to care.Not after everything. Not after the press statements, the papers, the parade of consequences that followed our fall. Not after I’d spent nights unraveling the tight thread of anger that had wound itself around my ribs.But I did care. I cared so much it scared me.So I buried it—in deadlines and filters and carefully arranged flat-lays. In polite emails and sleep I didn’t really get. In plans with Dean I didn’t always have the energy to keep.This was supposed to be a new life.And in many ways, it was. The apartment was smaller but warmer. The silence was gentler. My face was off every gossip site and my name wasn’t being dragged through speculative hell every time I left a room. I was

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   Two hundred and sixty six

    ~Reid~The LA sun hit different.Sharper. Harsher. Less forgiving.I stepped out of the black car and adjusted my sunglasses, the city’s heat bouncing off the pavement like it had missed me—and not in a good way. It was jarring being back. Like I’d stepped from a quiet jazz lounge into a screaming stadium.Back to work.Back to meetings.Back to pretending.It wasn’t just the noise. It was the pace. The rush. The pressure. Savannah had moved like water. Slow, deliberate. Here, everything jerked forward like it was being yanked on a deadline.I walked into the Callahan building and nodded vaguely at the receptionist, who greeted me with a practiced smile and just the right amount of reverence. I used to feed off that kind of attention. Now, I barely registered it. My assistant, Michael, was already by the elevator when I stepped in.“Good flight?” he asked, scrolling through something on his tablet.“Yeah,” I muttered. My voice sounded scratchy. My mind still stuck four hours behind, i

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   Two hundred and sixty five

    ~Fallon~Sunday mornings used to be slow, sacred things. Quiet coffee. No makeup. Sunlight in slanted lines on the floor. They were mine—until Reid. Then they were ours. And then, after everything fell apart, they became hollow again.But this one felt like something else entirely. Not sacred. Not hollow. Just fragile.I heard him before I saw him. The soft creak of floorboards, the hushed clink of a spoon against a ceramic mug, the quiet breath he let out like he was afraid to make noise. I stood in the kitchen, watching the steam rise from my cup, pretending I didn’t notice the way his presence filled the room like he’d never left.But he had. And now he was here again. For a little while.Reid was standing by the window when I finally turned, arms crossed, his shoulder leaned casually against the wall. He hadn’t touched his coffee. He was just looking out at the pale gold sky, the kind that barely hinted at spring. His eyes tracked something I couldn’t see—maybe the horizon. Maybe

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