Semua Bab Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract: Bab 261 - Bab 270

~Reid~I never thought I’d be the kind of man who checked the weather app five times in one day.But here I was—tapping the screen like the forecast might whisper something to me about her. Like seventy-four and sunny in Savannah meant there was hope. Like a clean sky might mean she’d be willing to see me again. That she hadn’t changed her mind. That she hadn’t slammed the door shut after what happened last weekend.I stared at the screen a little longer than necessary, then closed the app and booked my flight before I could talk myself out of it.Second weekend in a row.Not a coincidence. Not an accident.A decision.If someone had told me six months ago I’d be flying across the country to chase the woman I used to share a bed with—after torching our marriage with silence and cowardice—I’d have called it desperate.But now?Now I called it surviving.Because this—this—was the only thing that still felt like it had weight. Purpose. Realness.Everything else was noise.The office. The

~Fallon~It was just past midnight, and I’d taken the longest shower of my life.The kind where the water runs cold and you barely notice. Where your fingers prune and your thoughts won’t stop spinning. I stood in front of the fogged mirror, towel wrapped around my hair, another around my body, staring at the ghost of a girl who wasn’t sure how she’d gotten here.Reid had been in my apartment.Dean had been here too.And I had stood between them like a fracture line in my own life, like a fault shaking from everything I hadn’t yet said aloud.I dried off slowly, like rushing would only make the weight heavier. I moisturized without thinking. Pulled on a pair of oversized sweats and an old hoodie I’d stolen from Mia years ago that still smelled faintly of lemongrass and nostalgia. Then I padded into the living room, bare feet on cool hardwood, heart nowhere near calm.My phone buzzed again. Third time. Mia.I ignored the first two calls, but this time I didn’t even let it ring twice. I

~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

~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~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