by Lauren Rowe
“Who are you?”
Dad chuckles. “I’ve already wasted enough time in my life. If this brush with death taught me anything, it’s to seize the day.”
My heart squeezes at the earnest look on my father’s face. “I’m really happy for you, Dad.”
“I’m really happy for me, too.” He glances out the window of the diner toward the parking lot, and his face lights up. “Speak of the angel. Bethany’s here. And it looks like she brought Austin, too.”
I follow Dad’s gaze just in time to see a blue sedan pulling into a parking spot.
“Come on, Aidy,” Dad says. He rises from his chair, a smile on his face. “Come outside and meet my new family.”
I glance at the clock and my stomach clenches. “I’ll be right there. Just need to make a quick phone call first.”
Chapter Twenty
Aiden
Friday, 11:06 a.m.
After parking Savvy’s car, I make my way on foot toward an area that seems like the heart of UNLV’s campus. But, of course, it’s just a guess, since I’ve never been to UNLV, let alone any college campus. I wander aimlessly through swarms of students for a few minutes and finally slip inside a building marked as Administration. Seems like a good place to start. Ten minutes and heaps of Southern charm later, I’m quietly sliding into a chair in the back row of a classroom, watching the professor write a string of numbers and symbols onto a white board underneath the phrase “Central Limit Theorem.” The professor’s back is turned as he writes, but even without seeing his face, I know I’m in the right place. The dude’s got Savvy’s exact hair. Plus, something in the way he moves reminds me of Savvy, too. Bingo.
Finally, the guy turns around to address the class, and my heart stops. Yup. That’s most definitely Savvy’s father. Professor Raymond Valentine. The man who shattered my little chicken girl’s heart.
“So what do you think?” Savvy’s father asks the class. “Which version is superior? The Lyapunov version or the Lindeberg one?”
A student in the front row says something I can’t understand—something about the “sum of lots of little random pieces behaving like the standard ‘bell-shaped curve.’” And then a second student pipes in by saying, “But the Lindeberg condition can’t be replaced by a still weaker one because Feller proved that it’s not only a sufficient condition for the conclusion of the theorem to hold but also a necessary condition.”
What the hell? That flew so far above my head, it might as well have been hooked to a jet engine.
“Excellent,” Savvy’s father says. He makes an adjustment to the string of notations on the whiteboard, and everyone in the class reacts like he just started throwing out free bags of weed. And it suddenly occurs to me Savvy must be more than just book smart. She must be a literal genius if even half this shit makes sense to her.
Fifteen minutes later, Savvy’s father wraps up class, and all around me, students begin packing up their backpacks. I watch and wait as Savvy’s father gathers his stuff and finally walks up the aisle toward me, heading toward the exit to my left.
“Hi, Professor Valentine,” I say as he approaches. I move into the aisle in front of him to stop his progress. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
“You’ll have to come to office hours later this afternoon,” he says. “I’ve got a department meeting.”
“It’s about Savvy.”
Boom. I’ve got his full attention. “Savvy sent you?”
“No. She doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Is she okay? Is something wrong?”
“Savvy’s fine. Physically, anyway. Can we go somewhere to talk privately?”
Savvy’s father looks distressed. “Follow me.”
I follow him to a small office on the second floor of the building and take the seat he offers me. I say, “I came because I’ve been spending a lot of time with your daughter lately, and I know for a fact she really misses you.”
“Savvy told you that?”
“Not with words. But she wears the ring you gave her for her sixteenth birthday. That little ruby heart? She said it’s her most-prized possession.”
Anguish grips the man’s face. “Savvy told me never to contact her again. She said if she wants to see me, she knows where to find me. I’ve respected her wishes because I’ve already hurt her enough. But I think about her every day.” He pulls a set of keys out of his pocket to reveal a smiling photo of Savvy on his key ring. “I look at this every single day. All I want to do is pick up the phone to call her, but she was very clear with me she wanted me to leave her alone.”
I roll my eyes. “Savvy didn’t tell you to leave her alone because she actually wanted you to leave her alone. At least, not forever. Yeah, she might have wanted some space in the beginning. But what she really wanted—or, at least, what she clearly wants now—is for you to try to win her over. She wants to know she’s got the kind of father who loves her so much, he’d slay any dragon to win her back.”
Savvy’s father presses his lips together. He hangs his head. “I never meant to hurt Savvy. If I could rewind time and do things differently, I would.” He lifts his head and looks at me with pained, glistening eyes. “I know I must seem like a monster to you, based on what Savvy told you. But please believe me; the situation with Savvy’s mother wasn’t nearly as black and white as it seemed to Savvy. Savvy doesn’t know this, of course, but her mother and I hadn’t been intimate in years when I met Susannah, and we’d both agreed to—”
“Stop,” I say, putting my hand up. “Please. I don’t have a lot of time. I came here for one reason only: to tell you Savvy is in town until Sunday morning for her high school reunion.”
Emotion washes over his face.
“She’s here, man,” I say. “It’s time to pull your head out of your ass and contact her. She’s got a daddy-sized hole in her heart. It’s a hole only you can fill, unfortunately. Only you.”
“You think she’ll agree to see me?”
“No. I don’t, actually. Which is why you’re going to show up unannounced. I think it’s fifty-fifty she’ll slam the door in your face, to be honest, but you owe it to her to try. Even if she slams the door in your face, then at least she’ll know you cared enough to try. Fight for her, man. That’s all she wants. She wants to feel wanted. She wants to feel loved.”
“I do love Savvy. With all my heart. How could I not? To know Savvy is to love her.” He half-smiles. “But you obviously already know that. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know that.”
I feel my face flush crimson. “Yeah, she’s the best.”
“I just hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me. I didn’t mean to fall in love with Susannah. I wanted to be in love with Savvy’s mother, Greta. But I wasn’t. Greta got pregnant with Savvy when we were very young and—”
“Like I said, it’s none of my business. Believe me, I’m not in any position to judge you or anyone else, Professor. I just came to tell you Savvy is staying at the Bellagio.”
“What room number?”
“Twenty-one forty-seven. If she’s in the room tonight at seven, could you come then?”
“I’ll be there. Seven sharp.”
“Good.” I get up and head toward the door. “See you then.”
“Hey,” he says behind me, stopping my movement. “You never told me your name.”
“Aiden.”
“Thank you, Aiden. Savvy is lucky to have a boyfriend who loves her as much as you so obviously do.”
My cheeks flushing, I nod. “See you tonight.” With that, I swing open the door and march down the hallway.
Chapter Twenty-One
Savannah
Friday, 12:07 p.m.
As I pace back and forth in my hotel room, my hair wet from my shower, I glance at the clock on the nightstand for the fourteenth time in seven minutes. Well, there’s no denying it now. Aiden isn’t coming back. He most definitely reported for duty with the birthday girl. So much for my brilliant plan o
f insisting he take my car this morning. Was he so mortified at the thought of telling me about his decision that he decided to drop off my keys at the front desk downstairs? Will a hotel staffer come knocking at my door any minute, my keys in hand?
I glance at the clock again, despite not wanting to do it, and my heart pangs sharply. 12:08. Should I call him? Aiden and I never exchanged cell numbers. We’ve been attached at the hip since the moment we laid eyes on each other, so why would we think to swap numbers? But there was a phone number associated with his name when I ran that background check on him. Should I use it? What would I even say to him if I called, besides, Hey, Aiden, where’s my freaking car? I suppose I could tell him that, ten minutes after he left this morning, I had an epiphany that rocked my world—an idea about how to get his guitar back. But if I revealed that to him, wouldn’t that come off like nothing but a pathetic ploy to buy his affection?
I rub my forehead, still pacing around my room. No, I can’t call him. If he didn’t come back to me on his own, I don’t want him. If he didn’t come back, it’s because he’s decided he values his guitar more than he values pursuing a potential relationship with me. And I can’t blame him, really. We barely know each other, after all. This intense connection we’re having can’t possibly be real, can it? Plus, if I were to call him and tell him my idea, and he were to come back to me solely because I’ve possibly figured out a way to get his guitar back, then how would that make me feel? Like shit, that’s how. No, thanks.
I glance at the clock again. 12:12.
And it’s not like I can guarantee my big idea will work. I need time to figure out a whole bunch of stuff before I’ll know for sure. Am I willing to call Aiden now and beg him to leave a sure thing—the birthday girl—and then find out tomorrow my big idea went bust?
Plus, I’m not sure if I’m willing to pursue my idea for Aiden, anyway—not if he’s not certain about his feelings for me. My idea is illegal, after all. Am I willing to go out on a limb for a guy who doesn’t want me for me? No, I’m not. I mean, yeah, I know Aiden wants me. A guy can’t fake the kind of passion Aiden has shown me. But if he’s not coming back, then he clearly doesn’t want me more than he wants that guitar. And I’m not going to subject myself to potential legal exposure, no matter how small, for a guy who doesn’t want me as desperately and passionately as I want him.
12:16.
Okay, now I’m really wondering where the hell he is. He’s got my car, after all. Oh, shit. Did Aiden steal my freaking car? I clutch my chest at the thought. Is he halfway to LA right now in my car, laughing about how stupid I was to hand him my keys? I gasp. Is Aiden going to sell my car in LA and use the money to buy back his guitar? My heart lurches. He wouldn’t do that, would he? Oh, Savvy. Stupid, stupid Savvy.
I open my laptop and run a search and easily discover my SUV is worth about twenty-seven-thousand bucks on the used market. Holy shit. Was Aiden playing me all along? Was he brazenly charming my stupid, gullible ass this whole time with the goal of getting me to hand over my keys? No, no, no. I simply won’t believe it. If Aiden wanted to steal my car, he could have done it twenty times before this morning. Plus, come on. There’s no way Aiden was faking his chemistry with me just to steal my car. I have to believe he’s made arrangements to get my car keys back to me. Unless…
I gasp. Is Aiden hurt? Did the bad guys at the motel beat him…or worse? Panic floods me. Aiden. Okay, that’s it. I’m calling him.
My hands shaking, I grab my laptop, navigate into Aiden’s background check report, and call the phone number listed at the top. Immediately, an automated outgoing message begins—a computerized voice that tells me the number I’ve reached and then instructs me to leave a message at the beep.
I grip the phone with white knuckles and, at the sound of the beep, ramble the following pathetic message: “Hi. This message is for Aiden MacAllister. I don’t know if this is the right number for him. This is Savvy. Aiden, please, if you get this, call me. I’m worried something happened to you. I’m worried you’re hurt. Please call or text to let me know you’re okay. And, by the way, if you are okay, then, hey, motherfucker! Where’s my car?” My tone is playful, but saying the words out loud brings tears to my eyes. I whisper, “Aiden, did you steal my car? Did you report for duty with Regina? Are you dead?” I blink and tears squirt down my cheeks. “If you went to the birthday girl’s room at noon,” I say, my stomach churning. “If I’m truly never going to see you again, Aiden, then, please…” I take a deep breath. “Just know that….” I swallow hard again. “The past forty-eight hours have been the best of my life.” I press my lips together, trying not to lose it. “If you’re not coming back, then leave my car keys at the front desk, okay? Because I’d like to head back to LA today, as soon as possible. But, either way, even if you’re stealing my car right now and laughing your ass off at what an idiot I am, then at least text me to tell me you’re alive so I won’t worry about you. I’d rather be angry at you than worry you’re lying dead in a ditch.” I take a deep breath, fighting not to break down into pitiful sobs. “Goodbye, Aiden. I hope you’re okay.” I disconnect the call and lower my head…and break down into racking, pitiful sobs…just as my phone pings with an incoming text.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Savannah
My heart leaping, I check the screen on my phone, irrationally thinking the incoming text is somehow from Aiden, even though I know he doesn’t have my phone number. But, nope. It’s a text from Kyle.
Bad news, Savage. I’m not gonna make it to LV.
Just found out I have to babysit a band in NYC
on Sat. night. The drummer and lead singer want
to kill each other, and that’s not a figure of speech,
so my boss asked me to hang with them backstage
to make sure nobody pulls a knife. Consolation
prize? I’ll for sure be in LA next month and I PROMISE to see you then. Be sure to tell Mason
C to fuck off for me at the reunion. I’m sorry
I won’t be there to do it myself. Forgive me!
I love youuuu! XOXOXO
My chest still heaving with sobs after my voicemail to Aiden, I tap out a reply to Kyle.
All is forgiven, my darling dearest.
Duty calls. But I won’t be telling Mason
C to fuck off because I’m not going to the
reunion. Heading back to LA today. My
give-a-shitter done broke. Can’t wait to
see you next month. Love you, tooooo.
XOXO
I press send, drop my phone onto the mattress next to me, and hang my head. And when my gaze lands on my hands in my lap and onto my ruby ring, despair gives way to a torrent of rage and hurt and rejection. I leap off the bed, yank the cursed ring off my finger, and hurl it across the room with a loud howl. Goddamnit! I’m done getting my heart trampled!
I crumple onto the edge of the bed and cover my face with my hands. Why, oh why, did I let myself get so attached to Aiden? He flat-out told me he’d tell me goodbye. He was clear he’d do anything he had to do when he got to Vegas. So why did I think, even for a second, Aiden would forego a sure-fire way to get his guitar back in order to pursue the possibility that our connection might turn out to be the real deal?
I lift my head, my eyes wide with an epiphany. Aiden didn’t come back to me because he doesn’t believe we’d work out in the end…because he thinks I’m too good for him. So why should he lose his beloved guitar for a girl he’s sure he won’t wind up with? It makes perfect sense. Which means I shouldn’t take any of this personally. He’s just not equipped to believe in fairytales.
All of a sudden, I want nothing more than to help Aiden get his fairytale, even if I won’t be there to witness it. Assuming he’s not lying in a ditch right now, that is. Gah. No, I can’t think that way. I have to believe he’s alive and well and simply decided to go to Regina’s room because he couldn’t allow himself to believe in miracles.
Well, guess
what? I don’t need Aiden to believe in us, for me to believe in him.
I grab my laptop, navigate to YouTube, copy the links to my three favorite Aiden Jameson videos, and paste them into a text message to Kyle.
Heyyyy! Forgot to tell you: I met an
amazing musician the other day, right
after my hike. Check out the links for
Aiden Jameson. He’s the grandson of Mac MacAllister, a legendary session musician
from Nashville. Super talented and VERY
easy on the eyes. He plays guitar and piano
and sings and writes songs. Swoon! He does
session work in LA, so keep him in mind if
you hear of an opportunity. Pleeeeease take a
look at these links! You’ll be glad you did!
XOXOXO
I press send on my text, toss my phone onto the bed, and stare at the wall for a long moment, my heart aching. But when I happen to glance at the clock again—and realize it’s now absolutely, positively, irrefutably one thousand percent certain I’ll never see Aiden again as long as I live, I put my hands over my face and let loose with a sob from the depths of my soul…just as the door to the room swings open, and Aiden bursts into the room.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aiden
The instant I see Savvy crying on the bed, I know she didn’t get the voicemail I left for her on the room phone—and a quick glance at the desk confirms as much: the little red light on the phone is blinking.
“Savvy,” I say, barreling to her and taking her into my arms. “Baby.”
She throws her arms around me and crumples against my chest and wails.