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“Come in, come in. Do you want some tea?” Immediately I switched into hostess mode, taking the cupcakes from her and filing the kettle and pointing her toward the couch so she could sit down.

“I was thinking about you all afternoon,” I said as I arranged the cupcakes on a plate and got out the mugs and bags of tea.

“Thanks for talking me down last night. I was so close to canceling.”

I brought everything over on a tray, praying that I didn’t drop it.

“But you didn’t.” Setting the tray down, I took a seat next to her on the couch.

Reid reached for a cupcake as if it was a life preserver and she was drowning. It was chocolate with chocolate frosting. Naturally.

I poured the tea and made us both cups.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” The suspense was killing me, but I didn’t want to push.

Reid took a massive bite of cupcake and swallowed before she answered. “Well. I cried almost the whole time. I’d specifically promised myself I wasn’t going to do that and then, waterworks. I swear there was something she pumped into the air. Anyway. It was brutal and terrible, and I hated every second of it and I have an appointment next week.”

She finished her cupcake and went for the tea.

“Yeah, that’s kind of how therapy was for me. It’s like exercise. While you’re doing it, you’re miserable, but afterward you feel so much better.”

Reid nodded. “Exactly. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, I guess. I’ve got a lot of shit to deal with.”

I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t make any comments.

“I can feel you wanting to say something over there, Soph. This is not news to me. I’ve got…some baggage.”

Didn’t everyone?

“Yeah, and I’ve got anxiety. Makes us far more interesting, in my opinion.”

Reid laughed. “Okay, I like that. And I think you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

She grabbed another cupcake. “Anyway, I feel like I’ve been run over multiple times today. Please can we talk about something else.”

So I told her how much I loved her fanfic. For a long, long time.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Reid

She didn’t like it. She loved it. She loved my story. I couldn’t get her to stop talking about it if I’d wanted to. The story was over one hundred thousand words, so she was only a third of the way through, but she loved it.

Sophie loved something I’d written. Even if she hated every other story of mine, I would never get over this feeling while hearing her gush about her favorite parts, and there were many.

“Oh shit, I need to stop,” she said before she put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “I’m fangirling all over you.”

Well, fuck. That conjured up all kinds of lurid ideas.

“It’s okay, Soph. I don’t mind. At all. It’s a huge relief. No one I’ve been friends with has ever read my work and told me what they thought. I don’t know if I was more scared about you hating it or going to therapy to be honest.” I’d freaked out about both last night switching back and forth. I was fucking exhausted.

“Aw, Reid. I would never hate your work. Even if it had been rough, I would have found something good in it. Promise. But I didn’t need to look. Your work is good.” She reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing my fingers. “You’re good. And you should trust my judgment because I’m literally in grad school for writing.”

That made us both laugh.

“You have talent, Reid. You do. And if you ever wanted to share it in a different way, say, writing a book, I would love to be part of that. Or cheer you on. Whatever you need.”