When Caro finally leaves, after we talk for thirty minutes about the ceremony and my role and how excited we both are, I turn back to Reid. I shake my head at him.

"You're worse than Estelle," I shake my head.

He laughs, "she's the one I called. I wanted Stéphane's number, but she told me she'd handle it. She asked for our location and told us not to leave. I can abstain from asking her for advice in the future, if it bothers you. I was only trying to help."

Of course, this is all Estelle's doing. I imagine some collusion on Stéphane's behalf, because I cannot otherwise fathom how she got a hold of Caro on tonight of all nights.

I try to open the driver's side door, but Reid doesn't move.

"What now?"

"You're tired," he says. "Let me drive."

I furrow my brow, "you have a license?"

"Yes," he answers. This time, he opens the driver's side door and climbs in. "I learned to drive when I was fourteen. I have my own car too."

"And you had me pay for this rental," I roll my eyes as I move over to the passenger side.

"The breaks need to be replaced and I haven't been able to bring it in since we've been so busy this month. If you'd like, you can return this car first thing in the morning and I can drive us up in my car tomorrow," he offers.

"I'm not getting in a car crash on the morning of Caro's wedding," I say once I'm in the car and buckled in. "She'll accuse me of planning the whole thing."

He smiles, just a bit. Then, he pulls us off the side of the road. I try to stay awake for the ride. Conversation with him is easy anyway, and that keeps me up. We talk about his car, the apartment tours he's been doing, and his upcoming seminar at Georgetown.

It even drifts over to my family. He likes them, even though it's small.

"It took me a minute to realize Bastian's full name is Sebastian," Reid offers. "Although, I don't think he knows my name is Spencer."

"We're big on nicknames," I explain, not bothering to correct how he pronounces Sébastien. Honestly, I think the syllabus are too complicated for him to get. "Stéphane hates Stef though. He seems really mellow but call him Stef and all the fury that guy has in him gets released."

Reid yawns, "Cletus seems... well, he's not quite as bad as you made him seem. He held your sisters hand throughout most of the night, even when it made it harder for him to eat his food."

"Don't give him too much credit," I explain. "He's still homophobic."

"That..." Reid trails off. I glance over, watching his brow crease. "I wasn't aware of that. I did notice some slightly homophobic undertones when the officiant was speaking. Perhaps I should have extrapolated that he shared those beliefs."

"Speak more complex words funny man," I try to keep my eyes open.

Reid chuckles. His hands seem firm on the steering wheel. Maybe it's because we are in the office so much, but I forget that he's strong. He had to pass the same physicals I did, but he's long and lanky. He glances over at me.

"Eyes on the road," I whisper.

"Sorry," he manages. "I was going to check my blind spot."

"That's a lie," I manage.

He shrugs, "you have no proof of that. You've made it very clear that you lack strong profiling skills."

"I'm a researcher," I close my eyes, blinking long. It's just a blink. What does it matter? "I can find out anything."

It's so cozy in the car. The road is not all that illuminated by the streetlights above us. I curl against the seat, closing my eyes. I feel like I'm back at the campfire. The heat that blows in from the vents smells like firewood. That, or it's Reid's cologne.

"What is the smell of your cologne?" I ask.

He smiles, "cedarwood, jasmine, lemon, and amber."

I close my eyes too. Amber. I smelt the citrus and the smoke.

"Amber," I echo the word.

"It's interesting, but the scent amber refers to a profile and not the fossilized tree resin," he explains. "Amber scents are typically musky, light and sweet. Some amber scents contain nodes of vanilla, patchouli, tonka, and labdanum. Just to name a few."

It's not even made of amber. It still feels so warm.

He yawns. I'm so completely exhausted. I feel spent. Delivered. I don't feel like I belong to myself anymore, and maybe that's good but to say the least of it, it is exhausting.

The rest of me, I hope, belongs to sleep, because I only realize that I've fallen asleep when I feel something tickling on the side of my face, then behind my ear. My eyes flutter open, and my head aches. The tickling thing retreats before my eyes adjust to the city lights.

"We're here," Reid offers. There are black bags under his eyes. "I figured I'd drop you off and come pick you up in the morning."

"I can drive you," I wince though as my eyes crack open wider, and we both must know he's not going to take me up on the offer.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Cole," he smiles.

And with that, I go into my apartment. It's barely past midnight, but I force myself to move through the motions to get ready tomorrow. Everything is already packed in the trunk of the rental car, but I whisper the script to myself in the shower, and mumble it through brushing my teeth. My head lulls. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and I don't want to make Reid put up with the drive. Likely, we won't be leaving the wedding until after midnight. He'd offer to be the designated driver, but it's unfair. So, I get on the hotel website Caro recommended when she sent out invites. It's mostly booked up, but thankfully there are a few rooms with two double beds left. I book one. If anyone asks, I can just say we booked late. Two rooms is out of the question in that regard, so one with separate beds will be my sacrifice.

I get to sleep barely before one-thirty. My alarm wakes me up, and I swear I didn't sleep. No time passed, no dreams were had in my head. At the very least, there are no nightmares. I'm up well before Estelle should be. I hurry into the temporary clothes I planned and text Reid.

I rented a hotel room with two beds because that drive killed me last night. You can drive back with the car or stay. I can get a ride home with Stéphane otherwise!

Within a minute I get a text from him.

Thank you for updating me. If it's ok, I'd like to stay.

I text back a smiley face and hurry out through the rest of my morning routine. He should be coming in the next thirty minutes, and I hurry out of the apartment. There's a café nearby, and I order Reid a drink and a muffin, the same kind he bought for both of us when he stayed at my apartment. I barely make it back to the front to watch him pull up the lobby. I open the door and go to pass him his coffee when I already see two in the cupholder.

We both look at each other and start to giggle.

"You didn't have to do that," I tell him. "You're doing me a favour."

He shrugs, "I figured you were exhausted and busy After the way you fell asleep in the car last night, I was almost worried you would sleep through your alarm this morning."

"Your observations are correct, at least," I grant him that. "No profiling though."

Soon enough, we are off. I drink the coffee he bought me and he drinks the one I bought him. My impulse to drink the coffee I purchased for myself as a form of protest is a stubborn one. Besides, the one he bought is somehow warmer, even though it isn't even cold out anymore. As the sun rises, so too does the heat outside. Maybe he went through a drive thru rather than walking in the cold, like I did. It's the only explanation that makes any sense.

The two-and-a-half-hour drive rushes by us faster than the highways we take and the farms and trees which we pass. Conversation with him is natural, debate easy and non-confrontational for once, and I feel like out conversation is cut off when we pull in and I have to start getting ready.

"Good luck," I tell him. "With Mylène and Khadija, and the groomsmen if you run into them."

"Good luck to you as well," he smiles.

With that, I get out of the car. I grab the things I need from the trunk and hurry into the bridal suite, looking back at him. He's going to be alone on the farm. Reid offers me the smallest of waves, and I wave back at him.

We get ready, and I wear the terribly ugly raspberry dress, and all of the other bridesmaid's coo over Caro, who is uncharacteristically quiet. For the most part, we do our own hair and makeup, but the two women Caro hired flutter about the room between her and us to touch up mistakes and offer tips. I get ready before any of the other bridesmaids and I walk over to lean over behind her.

I rest my hand on Caro's shoulder and she takes it, squeezing it tightly. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror. Her plump pink lip quivers and her hands feel strangely cold.

"You look so beautiful," I tell her.

She does. Caro always has had an eye for the gorgeous and wonderful things in this world. Somehow, she has found that in Cletus. Somehow, she finds it in me, even if I make it hard.

"I'm nervous," she whispers to me.

"I should hope so," I tell her. "The good kind of nervous?"

She nods, "the best kind."

I hug her from behind and she giggles, a sound so shaky I worry she is going to break into tears.

"You can't cry before Stéphane," I whisper to her. "He's going to sob."

"He is," she agrees, laughing. Then, she pauses. "I'm happy you feel safe enough to move on now. I'm not stupid enough to think you're dating Reid, you know. Both of you are good liars, but I'm not fooled. Bastien maybe. But I know you like Reid, and for what it's worth, I hope he makes you the good kind of nervous too."

I hug her even tighter, "today is about you."

Caro smiles.

But she's right. He does make me the best kind of nervous.

~~~~~

Shut up. Oh my God, I've got to shut up about them. The next chapter is also the most solid of bangers. Enjoy!