by Anna Zaires, Pepper Winters, Skye Warren, Lynda Chance, Pam Godwin, Amber Lin
Chapter Eighteen
Neither Logan nor I spoke about spotting each other outside the coffee shop. I started to believe maybe he hadn’t seen me, but one morning a few days later when I got ready to leave, telling him I was having coffee with friends, he turned to me and said, “Tell Porter I say hello.”
My stomach clenched with nerves. He had seen me, but neither of us was willing to admit what we had been up to that morning. It went both ways. It felt deceptive going about things this way, but I needed answers. I wanted to be with this man, and I desperately needed him to want to be with me. We needed to know the truth before we could truly have a relationship that consisted of more than just sharing a bed.
I’d merely nodded weakly at him and slipped out the door, scurrying to the coffee shop as though demons were on my tail. When I got inside, Porter and Shelby hadn’t yet arrived, so I got in line to order. I purchased a tea hoping it would help calm me, but I was too nervous to drink it and it sat growing cold on the table.
Finally, the bells on the door chimed and I glanced up to see Porter and Shelby entering. Shelby was just like I remembered her, with long tangled tresses and a kind, but unkempt look about her. I stood up and shook both their hands, not knowing what else to do with myself. I was a nervous wreck.
Porter hadn’t told me much, just that Shelby had recognized the picture and wanted to meet with me, which made whatever this was seem all the more ominous.
“So, do you know the guy in the picture?” I asked her, unable to wait for even a nanosecond of silence.
“Yeah. That’s Aiden.”
“Aiden,” I repeated. The name felt foreign on my tongue.
“Yep, Aiden York, the youngest Art History professor ever to work at Northwestern.”
Art. History. The pieces mentally clicked into place. “What else do you know about him?”
Shelby bit her lip. “Porter, will you go and order us some coffee?”
He nodded and stood from the table.
Shelby swallowed and continued. “I’m sure there are two sides to every story.” She twisted her hands on the table. “Logan’s relationship with him was passionate, but rocky. They met down in Memphis where Aiden was contracted to paint a mural for a bar one summer a couple of years ago. Logan’s an artist too and was there for a summer seminar.”
My stomach was a tense knot of nerves, and I tucked my hands into my lap, waiting for her to continue.
“So where’s Logan now? Were… are they still together?” If I had the chance to help Logan—Aiden, I corrected myself—to get his identity back, I would. Even if the truth would mean the end of my relationship with him.
Shelby sighed. “Things ended badly between them, and I’m not sure how much Logan would want me to tell you. I’ll have to check first.”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask anything further. I wasn’t ready to have my entire world come crashing down all at once.
I scrawled my phone number, email address and postal address down on the back of an old receipt for Shelby. “Please. Let me know whatever you can.”
She nodded. “I will.”
The urge to search the web on my phone for Aiden York pulled at me. Even though I was investigating him behind his back, that was where I drew the line. It nearly killed me not to start up the web browser on the walk home. I stuffed my earbuds in instead and cranked up the music to an ungodly level to avoid even thinking.
I didn’t go home right away. I couldn’t face Logan, or Aiden or whoever the hell he was. So many thoughts swirled in my mind. What exactly had happened between him and Logan? Did their relationship mean that he was gay and he was just…confused with me? How had an art history Professor ended up that in that dingy warehouse that day? Even with this new information, there were still too many unanswered questions.
I sat on the train and listened to my music, blankly staring out the window as the thoughts swirled in my mind. I kept my earbuds firmly in place to discourage any chatty strangers.
Later that afternoon, I found myself wandering down Lakeshore drive, but when the passing couples holding hands became too much, I fled down a side street. I indulged myself in a chocolate ice cream cone from a street vendor after realizing I hadn’t eaten all day. Then to avoid going home just yet, ventured into a cute boutique and bought myself a few new tops and a pair of jeans.
When I knew I couldn’t avoid the situation with Logan/Aiden any longer, I finally got the train headed towards home.
I let myself inside and tossed my bag of clothes on the floor. “Logan?” I called out in the seemingly empty apartment.
“In the kitchen,” he called.
His voice instantly calmed me. What was I so afraid of? We were perfect together. I held on to the tiniest bit of hope that everything would work out. I leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, watching as he laid lightly floured chicken breasts into a skillet simmering with butter.
He looked up and smiled. “I found a recipe for chicken marsala online today.” He tossed in a handful of sliced mushrooms and splashed the pan with a gush of Marsala wine.
“It smells awesome.” The garlicky aroma coming from my kitchen was mouthwatering.
He washed and dried his hands at the sink. “Come here, baby.”
I obeyed, walking silently towards him.
He pulled me into his arms and kissed my mouth. “Why’d you leave all day?” he murmured.
“Sorry. I just needed to get out.”
He pulled back and studied me with a confused expression. He had just opened his mouth to speak when a light knocking on the door caught our attention.
“Who could be here?” I wondered, as I moved away from him to answer.
The knocking continued until I reached the door and pulled it open.
A breathtakingly beautiful woman stood before me, looking frazzled. She was thin and petite with dark hair and glowing olive skin. I got a nagging feeling, and it took me only a second to make the connection—she was the woman from the paintings.
I stood there, mouth open, taking her in. A dozen questions formed in my head, not the least of which was, what was she doing here?
“I’m…um, looking for Aiden.” She rose onto her toes to peek around me into the apartment.
“Who are you?” I didn’t mean the bitchy tone in my voice, it just inserted itself into the question.
“I’m Logan.” She smiled a dazzling megawatt smile that made my knees weak and my stomach turn queasy. Holy shit! This was Logan?
Logan/Aiden must have heard her voice from the other room, because when I turned around, he was standing in the doorway with a dishtowel draped over one shoulder and his face a mix of emotions.
“Aiden,” her voice broke and she rushed to him, jumping into his arms, knocking them both to the floor with a thud. She plastered her body to his, attacking his mouth and face with kisses. He seemed stunned, but didn’t push her away.
It was sickening to watch, but like a bad car accident, I couldn’t look away.
After several seconds of her mauling him on the floor, he stood and helped her to her feet. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her smile could not be dampened. She clung to his side like a needy puppy.
I hadn’t realized it, but tears had welled in my eyes and were threatening to overflow.
He spoke to her in a hushed tone and motioned for her to have a seat in the living room then he led me into the kitchen.
The chicken continued to simmer appealingly in wine sauce, but the food has lost its appeal. Our once romantic dinner for two had just turned into an awkward party of three. Or maybe it was still a date for two—the two of them.
He pulled me into his arms and hugged me. A muffled sob escaped my throat. “Aiden. Your name’s Aiden,” I told him.
He nodded, recognition crossing his face. “Yes, Aiden.”
Tears leaked from my eyes and streamed down my cheeks.
He patted my back and then released me. “I’m sorry, Ashlyn, but I need to talk to her
. Do you mind if…” He tipped his head toward the living room.
My heart constricted painfully in my chest. “Of course. Go to her.”
I grabbed my bag and fled the apartment, unable to bear witness to their touching reunion. He had her name tattooed on his fucking arm. You didn’t do that for just anyone.
I headed straight for the corner bar at the end of the street. I needed alcohol, and I needed it now.
Chapter Nineteen
I stumbled home much later feeling worse than I had when I left home, if that was even possible. I tried unsuccessfully to jam my key into the lock at least seven times when the door pulled open. A sleepy-eyed, shirtless Logan—I mean Aiden—stood in the doorway. He pulled me inside and against his chest and hugged me. His warm scent enveloped me in a comforting embrace.
“You’re still here,” I commented, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
“And you’re drunk,” he whispered, his voice deep from sleep. I realized then that he was holding me upright, keeping me from tumbling headfirst over the pile of shoes near my door.
He guided me into the living room, and sat me down on the couch. “I’ll get you some water.” He turned and headed to the kitchen. “And some aspirin,” he called over his shoulder.
I kicked off my shoes and laid my head against the back of the sofa. What was he still doing here? I assumed he’d be gone. I stared up at the ceiling, which seemed to be spinning in a circular pattern at the moment. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Open,” Aiden said. I opened my eyes and saw him holding two white pills in front of me. I opened my mouth and he placed the aspirin on my tongue and tipped the water glass to my lips. I tilted my head back, swallowing the water and pills in one big gulp.
“I thought you’d be gone,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
He let out a deep sigh. “I wouldn’t have just left without talking to you first.”
Oh. “So you still intend to leave, just not until after you’ve talked to me.”
He sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. “Fuck, this is complicated, Ashlyn.”
“What’s so complicated? You either want to be here with me, or you want to go with her. Simple.”
“That’s what’s crazy. I don’t have any emotional connection to Logan.”
“You have her fucking name tattooed on your arm!” I shouted.
He pulled me by my upper arms until I was pressed up against him on the sofa. “I don’t even know her,” he growled.
My heart pounded in my chest. I swallowed and looked longingly at his mouth.
He released my arms, separating us, and our connection. “But she holds the key to my past.”
I suddenly felt more sober. “So…you need to go to her and figure all this out.”
“Ashlyn,” he growled, frustrated by my tone. “You’ve been….you are everything to me. But you deserve more. If I could figure out who I am, stop having nightmares every night, get my life together…I have to try.”
I nodded. I couldn’t deny him that chance, even if it would rip my heart from my chest to see him go.
“When are you leaving?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away, but even in the darkened room, I could see him frowning.
“Stay tonight. Don’t leave me tonight,” I whispered, shuffling to get closer and climbing onto his lap. I guess I was the needy puppy now.
“Ashlyn,” his tone was frustrated, but he didn’t push me away.
“Please,” I begged. It seemed to work on him before.
He rearranged my body so that I was straddling him. “We shouldn’t,” he breathed against my lips. “There’s too much to figure out right now…”
I didn’t care that he was right. In that moment, I didn’t even care that he’d probably be leaving in the morning. I needed him. I was blinded by my lust for him.
I kissed him harder than ever before, thrusting my tongue inside his mouth, biting his bottom lip to pull him towards me and nibbling his tongue when it met mine. It was partly the vodka I’d consumed, and partly my unadulterated hunger for him.
He didn’t hold back. His hands roamed under my shirt and his fingertips danced across my ribs, and over my bra.
I ran my fingers through his hair and over the stubble on his jaw. I wanted to memorize every detail. The roughness of his jaw, the scent of his light, yet spicy aftershave, the way he made my stomach dance with butterflies when he kissed me.
I worked my hands under his shirt, loving the feel of his solid stomach, rippled with taut muscles. I had the strange urge to acknowledge our twin tattoos. I ran my fingers across his ribs, gripping the skin there as if to remind him. He let out a grunt.
My numb fingers quickly cooperated to unbutton his jeans. I worked my hand inside his boxers, feeling his hardened shaft and released a groan myself.
I tugged his jeans lower on his hips, exposing him to my caresses. He rocked against my hands, taking all the pleasure he could.
He lifted my top over my head and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor. I sat on his lap, in just my bra and jeans and looked at him in the moonlight. This was possibly my last time to see him like this, but I couldn’t think about that right now or I would cry.
A sense of urgency struck me, and I began unbuttoning my jeans. I rose from his lap and thrust them down over my hips. His eyes followed my movements, watching my striptease. I pulled my undies down next, and deposited them on the floor with my jeans. I perched over him and he tugged me to him with his hands firmly on my ass.
I landed squarely on his lap with his cock pressing against me. I ground against him, moaning. I wanted to feel him fill me up and own me, even if it was only for tonight.
I moved from his lap again, this time perching on my knees to take him into my mouth. His cock caused my jaw to stretch to capacity, and I opened wider, willing him deeper. Tonight he was mine.
I licked and sucked his swollen head with enthusiasm, planting soft kisses against him.
He grunted and pushed his hips forward to meet my eager mouth. Each time he entered my mouth, I moaned around his thick shaft, and felt myself growing wet.
After several minutes, he pulled me up from my knees and back up to his lips. He began kissing me and bumping against my entrance with his cock. “I want to fuck you, Ashlyn,” he murmured.
I groaned and helped him position himself so he began to slide into me. “Oh, Logan,” I moaned.
He stiffened. “Aiden,” he reminded me.
Oh, shit. I’d just called out her name. It instantly killed my libido, and I lifted myself off him.
“This is too strange, isn’t it?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I found my panties on the floor and pulled them up my legs as if to prove my point. Yes, this was fucking weird.
He lifted his hips to slide his boxers and pants back into place and then stood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I know,” I mumbled, while tears filled my eyes. “Just go. Go do what you need to do.”
He kissed my forehead, and then was gone. Just as quickly as he’d come into my life, he left. I curled against the couch and sobbed.
Chapter Twenty
The next month passed by in an agonizing charade of classes, research papers, and Liz’s tough-love seminars only to fall into my empty bed each night to cry myself to sleep. I’d refused to change the sheets that still smelled like him.
I should have been ecstatic about my paper on amnesia being featured in next month’s Psychology Matters, but I was too torn up over losing Aiden. I found myself wishing, not for the first time, that I was the one with amnesia. Forgetting all the painful memories and dumping them into oblivion would be damn nice. Sadly life was a cruel bastard, and so, of course, I didn’t miraculously forget the pain.
I didn’t forget the feeling of him climbing into bed late at night after painting and curling his body around mine, or the sleepy way he’d wake me up with kisses ag
ainst the back of my neck in the morning. I didn’t even forget the scent of his shaving cream in the steamy bathroom after his shower, since like a masochist who loves pain, I began buying the same brand he had and using it to shave my legs.
In other small ways, I’d learned how to live with the aching hole in my heart. The first step had been getting rid of all those damn paintings of Logan. Those found a nice home in the dumpster behind my building. I considered having an exorcism and burning them, but I couldn’t bring myself to so blatantly destroy something he had created. I had also finally asked Liz to take in Tom since seeing him pawing at the door was a daily reminder of how domestic my life had become with Aiden. Liz had agreed and her cats now completely outnumbered her at three to one.
The sudden disappearance of Aiden from my life had caused feelings from long ago to resurface. My mom had been ripped from my life when I was six years old due to a car accident, and I found myself calling my dad more often than before, just to say hello or check on him. He might never be the man I wanted him to be, but he was still my dad, and I loved him.
My phone buzzed against the dining room table. Liz had insisted that tonight was my reintroduction into the wild, and I knew I couldn’t ignore her any longer. I lifted various stacks of paper in an attempt to locate the device. I checked the caller ID, but it wasn’t a number I recognized. I set the phone back down and continued working, hoping to finish my email to the master’s student upset about her grade on Clancy’s midterm before Liz called saying she was here to pick me up.
After clicking send on the email, I went to change. It was now securely fall in Chicago and last weekend I’d unpacked all my sweaters and scarves from the linen box under my bed. I pulled on a pair of dark-washed jeans, and a fitted gray knit sweater. I knew Liz would complain, but whatever. If I was being forced to go out tonight, I was going to be comfortable. I pulled on my brown boots on over the skinny jeans.