Page 32 of For the Plot

I let that sit for a beat, watching the way his shoulders draw back like he’s bracing for a blow.

“Okay,” I say. “We’re playing the short-answer game.” He doesn’t respond. So I push. Gently.

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

His eyes meet mine. Steady. Guarded. “Because he doesn’t need to know.”

I arch a brow. “Sounds like you’re protecting him from something.”

“Or protecting you.”

My heart skips. Then races. I blink. “What does that mean?” He doesn’t answer.

I lean back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I wasn’t trying to stir anything up. I just… he was my whole life once. And now I work for his dad. It’s not lost on me how insane that is.”

Reece’s mouth tightens. “You didn’t ask for that.”

“No. But I didn’t exactly run from it either.”

Another silence, but this one feels heavier. I clear my throat and go back to teasing, using humor as armor. “Not that it matters. Dating these days is impossible. They all want you to fix them or follow them on their social media or subscribe to their OnlyFans.”

His lips twitch. “OnlyFans?”

“Uhh, like social media,” I say, really not wanting to get intothatconversation. I tilt my head. “What about you? Are you dating anyone?”

His eyes narrow. “Are you always this direct?”

“Yes, unfortunately. It’s a curse.”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just watches me, his expression unreadable. Then finally, he says, “Let’s keep the lunch conversation work-related.” And just like that, the door slams shut again.

I nod slowly, pretending it doesn’t sting. “Got it. So… work. Love that for us.”

He picks up his chopsticks again, but his shoulders are looser now.

I try not to let the rejection bite too hard.

I let myself smile. Just a little. Maybe the door didn’t shut all the way.

Reece doesn’t eat much. He picks at his noodles like they’re a math problem he hasn’t decided how to solve yet.

I eat both spring rolls while he’s busy avoiding eye contact and then pretend to feel guilty about it. He notices, of course. He notices everything and gives me one of those slow, unimpressed glances that makes my stomach flip.

“You know,” I say, nudging the empty spring roll container with my chopsticks, “you really should be thanking me. Thai food is a bonding experience. There are scientific studies. Endorphins, chili oil, shared trauma over spice levels.”

That earns a half smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Not like before. I lean forward a little, resting my elbows on the desk. “So. Archer.” His face doesn’t change, but his whole body stills. I pretend not to notice. “You said he’s working remotely. That’s wild. He was always so… center stage, you know? Captain of everything. Homecoming royalty. The guy who made speeches he didn’t write and still got standing ovations.”

A flicker crosses Reece’s face. Not quite a wince. But close.

I keep going. “I figured he’d be in some corner office by now, flexing that confident Blackwood charm.”

Reece exhales. “He’s doing fine. But he prefers flexibility. Remote lets him travel with his girlfriend.”

I blink. “Girlfriend?”

“Yes, been together a few years. If I had to guess, he’s proposing soon. He’s always talked about a destination wedding. Mexico, I think.”

I sit back in my chair, trying to process that little bombshell. “Huh. Good for him.”