He took a bite of pasta, then said, “We certainly incite very odd reactions in each other, don’t we?”
“Yes, but I enjoy it . . . even when you send me your little blue hate notes. I enjoy every minute of bickering with you.”
Reed stopped chewing for a moment. It almost looked like it pained him to hear me say that. He cleared his throat. “Let me get you a napkin.”
I stopped him from getting up. “No. I’m good.” He sat back down.
“You look like you want to say something, Charlotte.” Reed seemed to be able to tell that there was something on my mind.
There was. A question that had been eating away at me. It was none of my business, of course, but I would ask him anyway.
“Why was Allison calling you about a honeymoon you never took?”
Reed paused and placed his fork down, and it clinked on the plate. “We paid for all of the arrangements, and the resort wouldn’t give us our money back. They would only give us a credit for a stay at one of their locations. Allison has continuously insisted that I be the one to use it.”
“Because she ended it. So she feels like you deserve it?”
“Yes. Evidently the credit expires in three months. I couldn’t care less, and I don’t have the time. I told her to use it or let it expire.”
“Use it, Reed. Make the time.”
“I wouldn’t use that credit even if I had the time,” he snapped.
Come to think of it, I probably would’ve felt the same way if Todd and I had had a trip planned before everything crumbled. Given how strong Reed’s feelings for Allison were, it made sense that he wouldn’t want to go on what would have been their honeymoon. I suddenly felt bad for suggesting that he go.
“I get it. You’re right. I’m sorry for prying.”
He lifted his brow. “Are you?”
“Not really.” I smiled. “Even though I still don’t know what happened with her, because you won’t tell me, for the record, I think she made a huge mistake.”
“No, she didn’t. She dodged a bullet.” He suddenly got up and took my empty plate back to the kitchen.
Okay. What was that about?
It was a while before he returned to the living room. Reed walked over to the window and stared out of it for a bit before picking up one of my framed photos.
I reached for my crutches and made my way over to him.
“Are these your parents?” he asked. His back was toward me.
“What tipped you off? The jet-black hair?” I joked. “They are. Frank and Nancy Darling. Best parents I could have asked for.”
“They seem . . . like good people from this photo, but yes, clearly they look different from you.” He turned around to face me and surprised me when he said, “I noticed you added something interesting to your Fuck-It List the other day.”
“Spying on my list, are you?”
“What’s on my server is mine, Darling—with a big D. It’s not spying.”
“Yes, I did add something I’d been putting off.”
“You want to find out where you came from.”
I knew that addition to my list was a lot different from all the others. Lately, figuring out exactly who I am had become somewhat of a focus for me. I’d lost a little of myself when I was with Todd—trying to fit into his career, his lifestyle, his hobbies, instead of what made me happy. And I couldn’t exactly figure out who I am without knowing where I’d come from.
“Someday, I would like to, yes. I added it on there, even though that one is really more bucket-list than fuck-it-list material. Not exactly something I can bang out in a day, nor is it necessarily one of the more enjoyable items for me.”
“Well, I think it’s brave. Whoever they are . . . they would be amazed to see how you turned out.”
“Thank you. And here I was thinking you just thought I was nuts.”
“You are nuts . . . but you have a lot of endearing qualities, too.”
“Thank you.”
A few moments of silence passed before he asked, “How much do you know about the day you were found?”
“You can Google ‘Saint Andrew’s Church Baby Poughkeepsie.’ You’ll find all the information in old news reports. And that’s about as much as I know. It was quite newsworthy at the time. But to this day, no one knows who left me there.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“I guess.”
Reed could sense that I didn’t really want to talk about it and changed the subject. It was probably the only thing in my life that I wasn’t eager to discuss. Deep down, I knew I had abandonment issues. But living in denial was always easier than addressing them.
“So, where do you do your sculpting?”
I grabbed my crutches and angled my head for him to follow me. “Come on, I’ll show you.”