by Sara Whitney
He pulled himself to his feet and moved on autopilot to the other side of the bench to spot his friend. Possibly his former friend, depending on how this conversation went. “It was nothing.”
“That’s not what Tessa heard from a friend of a friend who was there.” As he spoke, he hefted the weight up and down with no visible effort while Aiden ground his teeth at the mention of Daniel’s just-the-facts girlfriend. If that’s what she was telling people, it must’ve passed her rigorous truth test.
“Jesus,” he groaned.
“I’m hurt, man.” Daniel racked the weight and popped right up. “Thought I’d be one of the first people you’d tell when you fell in love.” Aiden’s only answer was a growl, and Daniel took a laughing step back with his hands raised. “Hey, I’m not the one who goes on and on about domesticity being a trap.”
“Because it is,” Aiden shot back, although his response was more a habit at this point than actual strong feelings. He’d been railing against settling down for so long that this jokey anticommitment patter was part of his repertoire. “Thea’s just an old friend.”
He glared at Daniel, who shrugged and grabbed a towel to wipe down the bench. “If you say so. I’ll tell Tessa she got it wrong.” He glanced at his phone. “Gotta run. See you tomorrow after work for cardio?”
Aiden grumbled his assent and wrapped up his own workout shortly afterward. He raced through his post-workout cleanup so he was able to stroll into the Murdoch Construction break room at seven thirty a.m. on the dot, where the dozen employees gathered to guzzle coffee and wait for the day’s work assignments all burst into hoots and kissy noises.
“Hey, lover boy!” one of them shouted.
Aiden looked incredulously around the group. “How the hell do you all know about that?”
Painter Ben Mendez stepped forward with a shit-eating grin on his face. “My daughter sent me the video.”
“And?” Aiden asked slowly.
“And I forwarded it to all the guys!”
Aiden ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip as he glanced around at the laughing faces of guys he’d worked with for years. A decade, some of them. “It’s not a big deal.”
They responded with increased hilarity that Aiden tolerated for a few seconds before he slapped his binder against his leg and hollered, “Okay then! How about some hard labor, gentlemen?”
The group shifted to good-natured groans as he called out the work teams for the day and rattled off the list of supplies each job site would need. They cleared out in groups of two and three until it was only him and Gene Fitzsimmons, one of the old-timers who’d been with the company practically from the day his old man had founded it. His quiet word carried weight with the other workers.
“It’s good of you to put up with their teasing.” Fitz finished pouring coffee into his oversized travel mug as he spoke.
“They’re worse than a knitting circle,” Aiden muttered.
Fitz slapped a massive hand on the lid. “Naw. They’re excited for you.”
“Come on.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “They’re excited because I got tricked into kissing a woman at a hockey game?”
“Tricked?” His gray caterpillar brows inched up his forehead.
A hasty yes danced on the tip of his tongue, but if he was being totally honest, he hadn’t been tricked. He’d been the one to reach for Thea, to ask if it was okay with her. It hadn’t been his choice, but it had been his idea.
It had been a fucking great idea. Until the aftermath anyway.
God, that didn’t even make sense. He scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration, and when he looked over at Fitz, he was chagrined to see the older man chuckling softly. “That’s how it starts, young man.”
“How what starts?”
Those brows gyrated again. “Ah, it’s more fun if you find out for yourself.” Without another word, he snatched up his coffee and left the room. Grumbling, Aiden retreated to his office to review the permits he needed to submit to the city that week and return client email with links to products and design inspirations for their renovations. The morning flowed in a productive blur until three quick raps on his door pulled his attention from his laptop.
Aiden smiled at the sound. “Come in, Mom. You don’t have to knock, you know.”
“I don’t want to just barge in.” She bustled into the room and set a container on his desk. “I brought you some lunch. You never stop for lunch.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was after noon. He and his dad were supposed to meet with the Sappersteins at two thirty, so he had plenty of time to eat and chat.
He pried the top off the container and moaned when the scent hit him. “Chicken and dumplings? You’re the greatest.”
She just dimpled and handed him a fork. As a kid, he believed his mother was a sorceress who could conjure any item that the men in her life requested. As an adult, he wasn’t totally convinced that this wasn’t still the case.
As he demolished the food, his mother folded her hands in her lap and announced, “I was hoping to talk with you.”
He swallowed his mouthful and bit back a groan, readying himself to launch into another round of “that thing with Thea isn’t what it looked like.” But instead, she said something much worse.
“It’s your dad.”
Appetite gone. He should’ve recognized the homemade dumplings for what they were: a ploy to soften a hard blow. His mom had made the same meal after his grandma’s funeral and when he’d been home with a broken arm when he was supposed to be at baseball camp for a week.
“I know you’ve seen it too,” she said gently. “His memory, his temper. He’s not himself at work, and he’s not himself at home.”
“Home too?”
She nodded once and pressed her lips together, and he moved to sit next to her so there wasn’t a desk between them. His mom rarely got upset, so this was worrisome.
“I came into the kitchen the other night and found a pot of water boiling on the stove. We’d already had dinner, and when I found your dad in the bedroom, he had no idea what I was asking about. But there was an unopened box of macaroni and cheese on the dresser.”
He rocked back in the chair, taking in what she was saying.
“Nothing was damaged, but it could’ve been…”
“It could’ve been bad.” Aiden grimly finished her thought.
“It’s been getting worse for months,” she said, voice tired. Suddenly she looked less like the robust mother he’d always known and more like a scared sixty-six-year-old, pale and drawn and worried about her forgetful husband.
Dammit. He’d thrown himself into keeping the business flowing smoothly, but he’d been so focused on the work end of things that the true severity of his father’s condition had escaped him. Worse, his mother had been left to deal that aspect on her own. What a shitty son.
“What do we need to do now?” he asked.
“Actually, I took him to the doctor yesterday.”
His eyes widened. “Dad agreed to a doctor visit?”
“Believe me, it was a fight.”
They exchanged sad smiles. Of course it was. Rudy had nearly severed his thumb in a band saw accident a few years ago, and Aiden had to physically force him into the car to get him to the ER.
“Maybe it’s not as bad as we think,” he said, desperation coloring his tone.
For a moment it looked like she was going to offer him the kind of warm reassurances she’d given him his whole life. Instead, she knuckled away a tear. “It’s dementia. And it’s progressed beyond what any of us really knew. He was so good at hiding the signs, but…”
Sorrow gripped him, followed closely by fear. Fear for his dad. His mom. The business. His whole life, Rudy was the brash, cantankerous center of everything, and Aiden didn’t know what their family looked like without him.
“So what now?” he asked raggedly.
His mom nodded and swung into office-manager mode, all practic
al efficiency. “Now we get him into a clinical trial. There’s a great one in Chicago that looks promising.”
He frowned. “Except it’s in Chicago.”
“Which is three hours away. Not that far,” she said. “If he’s accepted, I’ll go with him. Find a little apartment. I have to stay with him.”
“Of course.” Forty-two years of marriage and never more than one night apart. It was a point of pride for them, so of course she’d go with her husband on this next step.
Her face crumpled, and Aiden wondered if she was thinking the same thing. He shifted closer to pull her into a hug, and she turned her face to his chest with a sob. But she pulled herself together almost immediately, turning to root through her purse for a tissue while he leaned back in his chair.
“Okay.” He exhaled hard. “Okay. You go with him to Chicago, and Trip and I will handle things here until you sort it out. Maybe he’ll be back in a month better than new, right?”
Her mouth formed something approximating a smile if you didn’t know what her usual expression looked like. “Of course, sweetie. We’ll get through it as a family.” She patted his cheek. “My handsome boy. We’ll need you to step up and run the business. And keep an eye on your brother even if it’s hard. I hate to see you two fight. You used to be friends.”
“Yeah, we did.” The memory of their last family lunch resurfaced, and he shifted in his chair, hating to bring this subject up with his mother. “Then again, I may not be the best choice to run the business right now.”
That engaged her inner mama bear, and she leaned forward, eyes fierce. “That person those people think you are? That’s not you. You just need to show them that you’re as steady and reliable as your dad. Even steadier. I’ve never once heard you raise your voice with our employees.” She placed her hand over his. “You’ll figure it out. But right now I need to get back home and keep making phone calls about our Chicago move.”
After one more pat of his hand, she stood and left his office, and he squeezed his eyes shut and dug his thumbs into either side of the bridge of his nose. Once he’d composed himself, he walked back to his desk chair and on autopilot reviewed the notes he’d made for the Sappersteins. He had a schedule to stick to. If the company rested on his shoulders now, he wouldn’t let it fall.
He greeted Fred and Elena Sapperstein in the lobby later that afternoon and took them through the lobby to the consultation room in the back.
“How’s that new addition treating you folks?” he asked as they took their seats. Murdoch Construction had built an all-season room for them last year, and since they were back to discuss a master bathroom reno, it was a relatively safe assumption that they were pleased. But it never hurt to ask.
“Oh, it’s perfect. A lovely reading spot.” The silver-haired woman waved her hand dismissively and leaned forward. “Now tell me about that beautiful girl we saw you kissing at the hockey game on Saturday.”
His pleasant salesman’s mask froze on his face. “You saw that?”
Her cheeks plumped into a smile. “We never miss a game. Isn’t that right, Frank?” Frank bobbed his head and gazed adoringly at his wife, who barreled on. “You two were the cutest couple of the night. How long have you been seeing her?”
He blinked and looked desperately at the tile samples on the table in front of him as if they’d help him out of the endless conversational loop that fucking kiss had dropped him into. “Oh, I’m not—”
“Young love. Isn’t it wonderful, Frank?”
The man’s bald pate flashed under the fluorescents as he nodded affably. “Is she a good cook? Does she treat you right?”
“She, uh—”
“That’s how I won him over.” Elena nodded at her husband. “My apple pie.”
“She makes the best apple pie.” Frank patted his belly and smiled the smile of a man who knows the pleasure of a good fruit-and-pastry combination.
Jesus. Time to get this under control. “Thea’s never made me apple pie actually.” That was honest at least.
“Just ask her nicely. I’m sure she’ll be happy to. We all saw how she looked at you.” Elena sighed dreamily. “After all the stories we’ve heard, it’s just nice to see you settling down.”
For God’s sake, he’d just become responsible for the bulk of the activities that kept the family business solvent, but apparently it took publicly linking himself with a woman to be seen as a trustworthy adult. It rankled, and his jaw hurt from the effort of keeping his smile on his face and his thoughts to himself.
“Leave him be, Lena,” the pie-loving Frank finally said. “Let the poor boy show us the bathroom of our dreams.”
Yes. Fixtures and mirror and vanity options. Safe ground. But as he discussed the benefits of the various tile brands, a plan began to germinate.
A terrible plan. Risky and dumb. Harebrained, even. But it was an idea that could change everything for him right now, when he needed it the most. And he was pretty sure he knew how to get Thea on board.
Eight
Thea perched on the edge of her couch and glanced at her phone one more time.
The text was still there. She hadn’t imagined it.
Can I swing by your place tonight?
“Gah!” She tossed the phone on the couch and looked around her apartment one more time with dismay. Aiden was coming here? Why? And where would she even put him? Her furniture was girl-sized. How would his tall, cool, sex-god vibe even fit in with her flower-patterned love seats and squashy velvet ottoman? Even her clothes were wrong. She usually felt supercute in these skinny jeans and soft, slouchy top, but tonight they managed to make her feel both sloppy and fussy at the same time.
God, he was coming here to tell her in person that Saturday night was all for show, wasn’t he? He was so worried about poor sad Thea showing up and tossing her panties at him on a job site that he was driving to her apartment to tell her to her face that they were only pals. It was almost like he knew how many times she’d watched that video that Faith had sent of their kiss.
Their unimportant, not meaningful, totally forgettable kiss.
“Oh God.” Her self-pitying moan was interrupted by the screech of her intercom, and she bolted from the couch to buzz open the entrance and meet her fate. Two minutes later, a strong pair of knuckles collided with her door in a self-assured knock that had her shivering. Even his knock was sexy.
“Get it together,” she whispered, tugging at the hem of her shirt once more before swinging open the door with the biggest welcome smile she could muster. “Hiya!”
“Hey.” He propped one shoulder against her doorframe and smiled back, all slow and lazy, and she fluttered. Every last part of her sat up and fluttered.
Crap.
Pushing aside her nerves, she stepped back and flung an arm out to encompass her cozy little living space. “Come on in! Toss your coat anywhere.”
“Thanks.” He slid out of his jacket and hung it on the coatrack next to the door with a raised brow.
“Right. Ha. Use the thing intended for coats.” And just like that, the tension drained from her body. Why was she so nervous? She knew why he was here, so she might as well calm down so he could get on with it. She shook out her hands in an attempt to get rid of her fidgets. “Want something to drink?”
“Beer?”
“Something cheap and domestic coming up.” She headed toward the fridge. “Have a seat.”
She fetched the beverages and joined him in the living room, where he was nestled among the upholstery flowers, legs looking longer than ever. She bit back a smile at the mismatch as she handed him a cool bottle.
“Thanks.” He wrapped his fingers around it but didn’t drink until she’d settled herself onto the sofa opposite him with her glass of moscato.
Now that her muscles weren’t performing a full-body clench, she had a little more focus to spare for her guest, and to her surprise, he looked nervous. His smile was gone, and the corners of his eyes were taut. After one sip, he set his
beer down on the coffee table. He used the coaster of course; a guy who worked on houses knew how to treat stained wood.
“So I’m guessing I know why you’re here.” She took a long swallow of the crisp, sweet wine and prepared herself for minor humiliation. At least they weren’t in public.
“I’m guessing you don’t.” Aiden leaned forward to study her, elbows on his knees. His gaze was intense, like he was really seeing her for the first time, and she squirmed a little. “I’ve got a proposal for you.”
“A proposal?” That was… unexpected.
“Here’s the thing.” He smiled, but again she caught a hint of nerves lurking under that gorgeous stretch of lips. “Everybody I talked to today saw the kiss cam or heard about it. And they all wanted to know how long we’ve been dating.”
“Oh no,” she breathed, covering her face with the hand not gripping her wine. “I’m so sorry. Did you tell them it was just a dumb thing we got forced into?”
“I didn’t actually.” His thick brows met over the bridge of his nose as he frowned. “And that’s my proposal.”
“What is?”
“That we not tell them that it was fake.”
He fell silent and studied her, as if waiting for comprehension to cross her face, but she just tilted her head far enough to the side that her hair slithered over her shoulder. “I don’t get it.”
He tossed himself back against her love seat with a groan, plunging a hand into his hair as he stared up at her ceiling. After a beat, he looked down and met her eyes again. No nerves, only a glittering intensity that made her sit up straight.
“My dad’s been diagnosed with dementia.” He stopped talking and swallowed hard before continuing. “He can’t keep running the business the way he has been. He just… can’t.”
“Oh, Aiden. I’m sorry.” She was the one leaning forward now, reaching across the space between them to rest her hand on his knee. Despite how little time they’d spent together over the past decade, that comforting touch felt like the right thing to do.