“Beth,” I answer, straining to keep any attitude from reaching my voice. I’m sure she remembers my name.

“Right, Beth.” A grin twists across her mouth like a snake slithering in the grass. “Sorry. All the excitement of getting married has left my brain a little foggy. I’m sure you can understand.”

“Of course,” I reply.

What did Reed ever see in you? I don’t say.

Reed stays silent. Another squeeze to my hand. This time I don’t wince.

Craig takes his cue and tips his chin to Reed. “Hey, how’s it going?”

There’s no familiarity in his greeting, so maybe they don’t know each other.

His dark eyes lower to mine when he doesn’t get a response, and he lifts his eyebrows subtly. “Hi.”

As soon as he says the word, his eyes wander to his left, bored, looking for something else to engage him. As if trained to do so, his attention pulls back to Molly when she tugs on the front of his suit jacket.

I’m expecting her to slip a treat out of her cleavage and feed it to him.

Molly glares at Reed for long seconds, growing annoyed at his silence. She threads her fingers through the hand on her shoulder and wraps her other arm around Craig’s waist.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? Did you suddenly go mute or something?”

I look up at Reed, unsure of what to expect.

He’s staring directly at Molly, or Craig, I can’t tell, but it’s as if he doesn’t even realize it. He seems stuck in his head, or so intently focused on his own restraint that he can no longer see anything in front of him. I wonder if I pry my hand away from his if he would launch forward and tackle one or both of them to the ground. It’s not like I’m holding him back. I doubt I could, but he’s gripping me like he needs to be steadied. Like I’m the anchor he’s afraid to let go of. His nostrils flare as he forces the air in and out of his lungs. It’s the only noticeable reaction on his face. The tell-all to his torment.

The light from the chandelier above us catches in the stubble along his jawline, stubble I hadn’t noticed until now. He suddenly appears more rugged. Maybe even larger. I look down at his exposed forearm when he puts stress on my hand—again.

His dress shirt is pushed back close to the elbow, revealing the thick veins threatening to burst under his tan skin. His muscles roll as he adjusts his grip, causing the pressure to burn across my knuckles.

It’s not painful anymore, but I feel it. His distress signal. Maybe he can’t tell me this is too much, but he’s showing me.

Get me out of here, Beth.

All of a sudden I’m the girl in the bar again, needing to protect the man next to me.

I tuck myself against Reed’s side, shifting our joined hands to my back. My other hand presses against his hard stomach as I look up at Craig. “It’s very nice to meet you. Congratulations on your engagement.”

My eyes shift to Molly, and I keep them kind. “I’m sure you have a ton of people to mingle with so we won’t keep you. Again, thank you for inviting us.”

I push against Reed to turn him around, to get him away from this mess I put him in, but he doesn’t budge.

“Reed.” I look up at him, but his attention is over my head. Burning like a wildfire. My hand meets resistance again when I urge him to move, and I think this might be the only fight left in him.

Molly snickers behind me, then her tone changes as she demands something of Craig.

I don’t care what she has to say, or what’s gotten Craig’s attention off her. I’m only focused on Reed.

I lay my hand against his cheek, the bristles from his jaw scratching my palm, and at that sudden contact his eyes collide with mine. Through impossibly long lashes, he looks at me with a vulnerability that slams against my chest.

Tomorrow, sweetheart. You and me.

He said those words to me before, when he agreed to do this.

“You and me, right?” I murmur, only for him to hear.

He seems so distant right now, I fear my voice will never reach him. But his lips part, blowing his warm breath against my wrist as soon as I speak.

I take that as a sign and make my third attempt.

This time Reed moves willingly, permitting me to lead him across the dance floor. We make it out of the tent, and I keep walking, following a caterer into the farmhouse where a few guests are mingling around a large table covered in hors d’oeuvres.

I have no idea where I’m going, or what my plan is, but the second I see a staircase leading to a seemingly quiet second level, I take it.

Reed doesn’t protest or try and lead me in another direction. He doesn’t speak. He keeps his grip tight on my hand while his heavy feet follow me into the first room at the top of the stairs.

I shut the door behind us, running my hand along the wall for the switch. A small lamp turns on in the corner.

“Are you okay?” I ask, wincing at my obvious stupidity as I turn to face him.

Really, Beth? Clearly he’s not okay.

Pacing in front of the window, Reed rakes his hands roughly down his face, scraping his stubble. His shoulders are hunched forward, pulling the dress shirt tight against his back and displaying his lean waist.

“Fuck!” he growls, stopping to look out the window and pointing at something down below. “That fucking bitch. Not only does she pick this venue, here, to throw this shit, but she invites me to it knowing I’d recognize that motherfucker. And then I go and react like that. I couldn’t show her I didn’t give a shit about her anymore. I stood there, shocked, unable to do anything, say anything, like a fucking pussy. Fuck!”