Even though I am filled with unrestrained enthusiasm, I hold off getting ready for as long as I can. I read a little, watch The Fault In Our Stars with my aunt, hold ice cubes under my eyes to relieve some of the puffiness brought on from watching The Fault In Our Stars, and read some more. I take a bath instead of a shower, trying to stretch out my minutes. I spend longer than I ever have on my hair and makeup, and still finish with an hour and forty-five minutes to spare before Reed is due to arrive.

It’s a habit of mine. I’m an early person, and I always have been. Luckily I’m also stellar at killing time. Being a lover of books has its perks. There’s always a story waiting to be read. A hero to fall in love with. A heroine to adore. Sometimes I think I should change genres and actually give the potential men in my life a chance.

My expectations of love are dangerously unrealistic.

Danny is already at the bar, and I know Hattie will be leaving soon to head into work. She mentioned earlier when we were sobbing next to each other on the couch that she wished she had memories of me. She would’ve loved to have held me when I was a baby, or been there to watch me walk across the stage at my high school graduation. I would’ve loved that too. I want her to have the time she missed with me. I can’t give her that, but I can give her something that might help ease some of the ache of knowing she’ll never get those moments. A small thank you for being here for me now.

She’s at the kitchen island, sifting through some mail when I walk into the room. Her face turns up and gentles considerably at the sight of me.

“Wow, darlin,’ you look so beautiful.” She grabs her purse and digs out her phone, holding it out to take a picture. “Sorry. I have to do this.”

I hold the shoebox behind my back and bend my knee, giving her my best smile. “Good?”

She looks down at her phone, nodding before setting it back in her purse. “Of course it is. Davis genes, honey. We can never take a bad photo.”

I step up to the island and pull the shoebox out from behind my back. A crease forms between her eyebrows as I slide it across the counter.

“I wanted you to have this. There’s so many pictures of me in here. Ones when I was a baby, up until right before my momma died. I thought you could look through them and live out some of the memories with me.”

Hattie attempts to blink away her tears, but a few slip past her lashes and drop to her cheeks. She brushes them away quickly and places a hand on top of the shoebox.

“You are just the sweetest thing, Beth. Thank you. Of course I won’t keep this. These are yours, but I would love to look through them.”

“There might be a few of me with my mom. I don’t think I’ve ever really looked through the entire box.”

She pops off the lid and peers inside. “Would you mind if I scanned them into the computer? I’d love to get copies printed.”

“Nope. I don’t mind.” I grab a mint from the small dish in front of me and pop it into my mouth. When she doesn’t say anything more, I think Hattie is flipping through the photos, until I look up and catch her eyes on me.

“Are you sure this isn’t a real date?” she asks, lifting a skeptical brow.

Her question has me biting down on the mint, shattering it into pieces. I bring a hand up to my mouth to shield her from bits of peppermint as I respond. “I don’t think he sees this as a real date.” I chew up the mint quickly, fearing I’ll choke if I don’t get this down before she asks me anything else.

She tilts her head. “But do you?”

I swallow down the last bite of mint and wipe my fingers along my mouth, removing any trace of it. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, watching her expression somber a bit. “I like him. I know that.”

The doorbell sounds behind me, causing my chest to pinch. I look over my shoulder as a loud, breathy exhale pushes past my lips. The chill of peppermint cools my mouth while my skin becomes hot with excitement.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

Reed.

“Beth?”

“Hmm?” A gentle touch on my shoulder has me spinning my head back around, meeting the curious stare of my aunt.

She laughs gently, then nods in the direction of the door. “You might want to get that before he starts banging.”

Reed. Banging. Banging Reed.

I move quickly through the kitchen, waving a hand over my head at my aunt. “Don’t wait up!” I yell, grabbing the small clutch off the table in the entry way.

I pull the door open and pray for a Reed who disappoints. One who didn’t dress up for this, because I’d like the use of my vocabulary.

Maybe he’s hoping for the same thing as our eyes move over each other. Maybe we’re both caught up, struggling to communicate. He’s not wearing shorts and a T-shirt. He totally dressed up for this. I open my mouth to speak. He does the same. One word is shared between us.

“Fuck.”

And we both say it.

Reed

THOSE FUCKING BOOTS.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Heels, I guess. Most women wear heels with dresses. But Beth isn’t most women. I knew that before I drove over here tonight. Hell, I knew it a week ago. I should’ve been prepared. Before I got dressed, I jacked off in the shower, but maybe I should’ve done it more than once. Maybe she knows I’ve pictured her in nothing but those boots while I live out my dirtiest fantasies, and that’s why she’s wearing them. Maybe she’s trying to kill me slowly. What a fucking way to go though. Looking at her, right now, like this. Alone, there is nothing sexy about those boots. But those legs, in that fucking tiny black dress that’s hugging every perfect curve of her body . . .