“Sorry,” I say. “We got caught up with work,” Reid explains. He takes a seat on the couch next to June and hands over her presents. “It’s Avery’s fault. She lost track of time. Told me to keep going and she didn’t want to stop.” I glare at him. His grin is beautiful, a wicked display of happiness that pangs in my chest, and I know I could never be mad at him. Not really.
