That Secret Crush (Getting Lucky #3)(100)

He spins toward me, the veins in his neck popping, his fists clenching at his sides. “This doesn’t concern you, Eve, so I suggest you leave.” He turns back to Reid as he’s picking himself up, lobster bisque and butter stuck to his backside. “I told you to end it with her.”

“And I did!” Reid shouts back.

Excuse me? Eric told Reid to end things? When did he even know that Reid and I were in a relationship?

“Then what the fuck is this?” Eric gestures at our ruined dinner.

Chest puffed, eye starting to swell, Reid says, “I decided I wanted to win her back.”

“You motherfucker.” Eric charges Reid again, but I step between them, pushing my hand against Eric’s chest before he can land another blow.

“Eric, stop. What do you think you’re doing?”

“I knew it,” he seethes through his teeth. “I saw all the warning signs but chose to ignore them. The glances you would give her, the times I would walk in on you two talking, and all the guilty looks. You two have been fucking behind my back, haven’t you?”

“Have you lost your mind?” I ask as I feel Reid’s bare chest come up behind me.

“What if we have? Would it have changed anything about the restaurant? Would it have made a difference? No, because I, unlike you, know how to separate the two.”

“Fuck. You,” Eric spits. “You know, I actually came here to talk to you, to make up for all our grievances in the past. I wanted to have an honest conversation with you, to start a new chapter before we open tomorrow. But you haven’t changed since Boston. You’re just as selfish as before. Never taking the blame, just placing it on others.”

“I took the blame!” Reid shouts. “I took the fucking blame for what happened. I punished myself for years, and it wasn’t until Eve that I actually started to forgive myself and try to start over. Don’t tell me I didn’t take the blame, because I wore that failure like a goddamn belt every damn day of my life.”

“And yet you’re making the same mistakes that I did.” Eric shakes his head and stalks to the front door, throwing it open. “Here’s to Knight and Port—let’s hope it doesn’t sink like Bar 79.”

With that, he storms out into the night, the door slamming behind him, leaving me alone with Reid.

Shaken, angry, and hurt, I turn toward Reid. He reaches for me, but instead of falling into his grasp, I take a step back.

“Eve—”

I hold my hand up, a cold surge of anger gripping me. “Did you break up with me because Eric told you to?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“It’s not. It’s a yes or no answer. Did you break up with me because Eric told you to?”

“Eve, listen.” He reaches for me again, but I take another step back and slide on my shoes.

“Yes or no, Reid.”

He drags his hand over his face, his frustration clear. “Just let me explain.”

“Yes. Or. No,” I grind out.

“Yes, okay.” He throws his hands out. “But there was more to the decision.”

“I don’t care if there was more. You let someone else decide your future rather than making the decision yourself. We were good, Reid, and you threw that away because what? Because Eric scared you? Brought up his past and Janelle? Wasn’t I different? Wasn’t what we had different?”

“Yes.” Desperation laces his voice. “But I was a fucking idiot, okay? I was scared and didn’t want to screw anything up again.”

“So you chose the restaurant over me instead of fighting for what we had?”

“No, I mean, it seems like that, but—”

“Forget it.” I open the front door, ready to run away, and collide with a brick wall. Glancing up, I see Brig’s startled face.

“Whoa, sorry about . . . man, what the hell happened in here? Did you have wild sex? On my lobster bisque? Dude, I don’t want your sex juices in my soup.”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Reid snaps as I push past Brig. “Eve, wait.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Come prepared to cook your ass off.”

I leave as a confused Brig calls after me to have a good night.

I stride away, fuming. He chose Knight and Port over me—that realization cuts deeper than I ever thought possible. But even worse, he gave up on us. And my brother, getting in the way? He’d better be ready because we’re about to have a little talk.

Too bad he’s not there when I get home, leaving me to stew in my own thoughts.

What a perfect way to spend the night before our opening.





CHAPTER THIRTY





REID


This is a goddamn disaster.

At least that’s what Eric keeps saying as he stomps around the kitchen, handing out orders and practically pulling his hair out.

To say the tension is thick right now is an understatement.

I spent all last night not only texting Eve but also trying to get Eric to come back and talk things over before we opened. All I got was radio silence, though, until he showed up at Knight and Port, put on a big smile with the rest of us as we opened the doors, and then started cooking.

We’re three hours into the soft opening, and we’ve already run out of supplies for three of our dishes. The local lager from the brewery down the road is out, and we’re almost tapped out on two other microbrews. We have about six bottles of wine left, the waitstaff has fucked up three orders, and there is a line out the door that shows no sign of dissipating. To top it all off, I have one and a half eyes due to the swelling from Eric’s punch.