Chapter 4 - Confessions

SCARLETT

The morning sunlight filters through my bedroom curtains, stirring me from my slumber while the echoes of the previous night’s celebration linger in my mind. I yawn, stretching my limbs as I slowly sit up, glancing at the clock to find that it’s 9:05 a.m. It means I had over five hours of sleep but I’m still tired. As if on cue, there’s a soft knock on my door and I run my hands over my face just in case I drooled as I invite the person inside.

The door creaks open, and my mother tiptoes into the room with a tray of breakfast in her hands. She greets me good morning with a certain excitement in her eyes that hints at an impending surprise and I respond rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes as she places the tray on my lap.

“How did you sleep?” she asks, sitting beside me on the bed before pulling me into a hug. I tell her I slept okay and earlier than I had expected but I’m still tired.

She apologizes for waking me up, adding that Colette is waiting for me; there’s somewhere she wants to take me. I’m surprised to hear that, as I thought we were done with the surprises since I figured we weren’t going away on the weekend.

I ask where she wants to take me and what it’s about, but Mom says it’s a surprise and that I should eat and get ready.

“Do you think it’s a surprise trip?” I ask, thinking that maybe I thought wrong and that we are still doing the trip, but Mom smiles, shaking her head. If there’s one thing about Mom, she’s good at keeping surprises and keeping her word. So, I don’t pry anything out of her.

Getting up, I dash to the bathroom to freshen up and relieve myself, and I get back to bed when I’m done.

I thank Mom for the breakfast and take a bite of the croissant while a surge of excitement bubbles within me, thinking of what the surprise could be.

Conversation soon flows between us as we talk about the party again. Mom, however, chuckles and tells me to slow down because I am eating quickly and talking at the same time. I tell her I don’t want to keep Mrs. Sterling waiting, but she says Mrs Sterling has just woken up too, adding she looked like she stayed up late last night as well.

“She and Reed have just sat down for breakfast,” she continues, and there’s a subtle shift in the air as my mother mentions Reed’s name, causing me to briefly avert my gaze, caught in a momentary reverie.

She senses the change and reaches for my hand, concern clear in her touch. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asks, her eyes searching mine and I nod, mustering the best reassuring smile I can as I quickly compose myself.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Mom.”

I’m far from okay. After that almost-kiss in my room, Reed disappeared from the party until I retired to bed. As I rejoined my friends, laughter, and music still filling the air, all I could think about was what had just happened. The whole thing replayed in my head in an endless loop the entire time.

My mother’s question about whether I was in love with Reed echoed in my thoughts, as did the teasing remarks from my friends about the same thing, and it struck me then that perhaps there was a reason people thought we were in love.

I think Reed is in love with me, and the revelation has filled me with confusion. I don’t know how I feel about that. I mean, I love Reed, but I have never thought of him in that sense before, and now that I have established that’s how he may be thinking of me, I don’t know how to feel.

The many glasses of champagne fueled me with courage, and I told myself I would confront Reed about it before the night was over, but he never returned to the party. One of his friends said he was having a drink with his father and would be back, but it never happened.

My mother doesn’t seem to buy my reassurance, though, as her persistent concern lingers before she reminds me I can talk to her about anything.

I attempt to brush off her worries with another casual reassurance. But she speaks before I can, asking me to look at her and I do.

“Did something happen at the party?” she asks and I’m on the verge of shaking my head when she cuts me off again. “With Reed,” she adds, and my eyes widen in surprise, the knowing look in her eyes telling me she’s not fooled and sees through me. “I know you’ve already said you’re not in love with him,” she continues, her voice understanding, “but are you sure? Because I see otherwise.”

I sigh, leaning back against the headboard, realizing that denying it is of no use. “I think he’s in love with me, Mom,” I admit and see a look I can’t decipher in her eyes, almost like fear, before her gaze softens.

She tightens her hold on my hands, prompting me to continue as she asks if he told me that. I tell her he didn’t, but something happened—something that leads me to believe so. She asks me what it is and I tell her about the near kiss and, to my surprise, she saw it.

My face pales at that, and I look away momentarily again, but she places her hand under my chin and makes me look at her.

“And what about you? Do you feel the same way?” She asks, and I shake my head, uncertainty clouding my thoughts as I stammer that I don’t know.

She sets the tray aside so the contents don’t spill on the bed and takes my hands again. “Honey, I know you care for Reed, and I can see that he cares for you, too. But a relationship beyond friendship wouldn’t be right,” she says, and I furrow my brow, taken aback by her assertion.

“Why not?” I find myself asking even though I don’t even know what I feel, and she points out the differences in our worlds with a gentle force in her words.

“Scarlett, you and Reed come from different worlds. You might not feel it as strongly because of how good Reed’s parents have been to you, but the reality is there, and it won’t change. We may not address him as ‘Mr. or Sir,’ but Reed is my boss and anything more between the two of you would only complicate things,” she says, and I get what she’s saying, but Reed isn’t like that.

As she talks, a sense of defensiveness wells within me. She’s making it sound like Reed sees me as nothing more than the help’s daughter—as if our getting together would be problematic because of that. But I know Reed and he doesn’t care about such societal divisions. The Sterlings are humble and kind. They don’t look down on anyone.

“Reed isn’t like that,” I whisper, but Mom cuts me off, squeezing my hand gently as she asks me to promise I won’t cross the line with Reed. I feel a pang in my heart at that, but I nod even though I am not entirely in agreement with her assessment, deciding to respect her wishes nonetheless.

“I promise,” I say, though a hint of reservation lingers in my tone, and she hugs me. When we pull back from the hug, Mom jokes that I’ll find my own hot guy, causing me to laugh at the use of the word “hot.”

She says she has to go finish delegating to the staff because she will also join us on the trip we are about to take, and I grin at her words. “So it is a trip,” I say, to which she says yes, but not the one I’m thinking of.

She gets to her feet and tells me to finish my breakfast, and I reply with a yes, ma'am as she walks out, the smile still bright on my face. But as the door clicks shut behind her, I’m left alone with my thoughts, the remnants of her well-intentioned advice echoing in my mind.

The smile that adorned my face moments ago wavers.

“It doesn’t matter, Scarlett. You don’t have feelings for him,” I whisper, dismissing them with a murmur as I reach for my juice. But just as I settle into this reassurance, a knock on the door disrupts the quiet solitude.

I call out, granting permission for the person to enter, thinking my mom probably forgot something. But as the door creaks open, it reveals Reed with his characteristic grin.

“Hey, sleepy face,” he greets, and I can’t help but smile in response, the playfulness in his eyes contagious even in my turmoil. “How did you sleep? I thought the plan was to stay up all night,” he teases, making his way over to the bed and I raise an eyebrow at him, reminding him he was the one who succumbed to sleep before I did.

However, he shakes his head, insisting otherwise, causing me to recount the time I left the party, pointing out again that he had long gone to bed by then. He counters, explaining that he spent some time at the bar with his father.

“That was earlier,” I retort, a playful edge in my voice, knowing he can’t be suggesting he spent the entire night at the bar, and he says he didn’t stay all night, joining me on the bed and playfully pulling at my cheeks.

I swat his hand away while laughing at his antics, and he claims that about three hours after I left, he returned only to learn from Lexie that I had gone to bed. He says he came to my room and found me passed out with Olivia by my side. I didn’t even know Olivia had followed me. Poor Lexie; we left her there all by herself.

“I’m sorry I left,” he apologizes, but I assure him there’s no need. He had no obligation not to leave the room. A comfortable silence settles between us for a moment while I begin to feel the familiar tension growing.

Thoughts of his feelings and mine grapple for attention and I want to confront him about it, but now that I’m sober and looking him in the face, the words elude me.

Instead, I take a deep breath and decide to steer the conversation toward safer grounds, asking about his university life. We hadn’t had the chance to catch up during the festivities. However, before I can delve into the topic, Reed interrupts with a surprising declaration.

“I have a confession to make,” he blurts out, his eyes carrying a sudden intensity that makes my heart race and I find myself unable to shake the feeling that I know what he’s about to say.

“A confession? Do tell,” I attempt to maintain a lighthearted tone, masking the apprehension that churns within me. But I freeze at the next words that escape his lips.

“I’m in love with you,” he declares, and time seems to freeze even though I had just concluded that he may. But hearing him declare it still takes my breath away.

“You—in love with me,” I whisper back, grappling for words and he says yes.

“I'm in love with you, Scarlett Ford,” he affirms, his hand tenderly reaching for my cheek, and suddenly, I can move again as my body moves of its own accord, leaning into his touch.

“How do you know that?” I breathe out, my voice a mere whisper, and an emotion-laden chuckle escapes Reed’s lips, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. He paints me a picture of his love for me, recounting every sense, and every ache that led him to this conclusion.

He speaks of how my presence lingers in his thoughts—how his day doesn’t truly begin until he hears my voice and the sincerity in his voice combined with the vulnerability in his gaze pierce through my defenses, leaving me raw and exposed.

“We’ve been friends since we were kids, and that friendship has always meant the world to me. But two years ago, I came to realize that it’s grown into something more. Something deeper. I never planned for it to happen, and I certainly don’t want to jeopardize what we have. But, Scarlett, I can’t deny what’s in my heart any longer. I’m in love with you,” he continues and as he unfolds his heart before me, a realization dawns on me.

Everything he’s said—the things he describes, the way he articulates his emotions—reflects the things that I have been feeling. I, too, find myself thinking about him all the time—his smile and voice echoing in my mind long after it fades away.

The recognition crashes over me like a wave, and suddenly, everything becomes clear. I’ve been in love with him too and I just didn’t know it.

There’s a moment of silence after Reed’s confession, and I don’t know how long we sit there, locked in each other’s gaze, before tears well in my eyes, and it’s then that he finally breaks the silence.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he whispers, and an emotional chuckle escapes my lips. “I’m not mad; I’m overwhelmed, and I don’t know what to say,” I admit, my voice a mere whisper.

“Say I didn’t ruin our friendship—say you forgive me for putting you in this position,” he says, his eyes searching mine for any sign of reassurance. But before he can finish his plea, I cut him off, assuring him there’s nothing to forgive.

“I think I’m in love with you, too.” I make my confession and watch his eyes fill with many emotions before an emotional smile stretches across his face.

“You think?” he whispers with a tremulous voice, and I nod. “I would like to find out for sure,” I add, our faces now inches apart—the proximity electrifying as our breaths mingle and I can almost taste the anticipation as Reed’s question lingers.

“How will you know for sure?” he asks, his voice a gentle murmur, and in response, I lean in, my lips gently meeting his in a fleeting kiss—a whispered invitation to peek inside my soul. “That’s how,” I breathe, drawing back, but I don’t get far as he closes the space between us again in a kiss that lets me know he’s already crashed through the gates of my soul.