by Melissa West
Except when I was with Aidan.
My thoughts went to the weekend we’d spent at his apartment. Of dancing to “Sweet Home Alabama,” him spinning me all around, my body buzzing with such intense happiness that I hardly recognized the feeling. And now him here, in my world, everything feeling so perfect that I didn’t want us to leave, to return to the complications of our situation. To have the conversation I knew we needed to have.
Sitting down on my bed, already in fresh pajamas, I heard a soft knock on the door to the bathroom we shared. I walked over and opened it, expecting a joke about getting our naughty on, but the expression on his face made my smile disappear. “What’s wrong?”
He reached out to take my hand, gliding our fingers together, watching the way they fit. My small hands into his larger ones. “My father had a heart attack.”
“Oh my God. Do you need to fly out? Make a call? What can we do?”
He shook his head and started into my room, lying back on my bed without asking, and despite the situation, I thought of the first time I’d been in his apartment. How he’d noted my helping myself to the refrigerator. It was nice that he felt equally comfortable with me.
“Nothing,” he said finally. “His assistant left me a message. She said he’s all right, it’s just…”
“Aidan?” He peered over at me, his eyes full of anguish. “It’s okay to care about him.”
“He has never once in his life given a damn about me. Didn’t even bother to come to the hospital or funeral when Mom died. So why should I care about him?”
I sat down beside him and ran my fingers through his hair, then over his forehead, soothing the tension in his brow. “It’s not whether you should. You do. He’s your father, good or bad, and your caring for him doesn’t make you weak. It makes you strong.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
We fell into silence then, him staring at the ceiling, me staring at him, before he patted the space beside him and said, “Lie with me.”
“But your dad. Do you want to—”
“Please…just lie with me.”
Doing as he asked, I lay down beside him, nestling my head under his chin, wishing I knew what he was thinking. Wishing he would talk about it. But sometimes we needed to sort out our thoughts in silence, the quiet giving way to understanding in a way words never could.
“I’m here,” I said. He nodded once and then we settled against each other, our eyelids closing somewhere along the way, our bodies tangled together as we drifted into a peaceful sleep.
Chapter Twenty
The sounds of complete and utter chaos startled me awake. I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand and groaned. Seven a.m.
And so it began.
My aunts would arrive soon, bringing with them stress and noise, driving Mom to drink. I needed to get up to help, but instead, I snuggled into Aidan, burying my face in his chest, telling myself I’d get up in five minutes. With any luck, maybe they hadn’t arrived.
Thanksgiving never used to be this stressful. Or maybe that was just childhood ignorance, and it had always been stressful for Mom. She used to cook the full meal, and everyone came over about an hour before to “help,” which really meant to watch her cook while they talked. But then Dad died, and everything in our lives broke a little. That first Thanksgiving was the hardest, and being from a huge family like ours made it even harder. Mom sat in a corner throughout the whole thing, my aunts busily making the Thanksgiving meal. She didn’t cry, but she didn’t speak either, which for my mom was worse than crying. It meant she was too lost to do anything, to talk—to feel. But then the second year came, and the third, then she met Eric, and though a part of me resented her for moving on, the rest of me was just happy to see life in her eyes again.
I had just leaned over to give Aidan a quick kiss before slipping into the shower when a sudden pounding on my bedroom door made me freeze midmotion. Hesitating, I stared at the door. Maybe I could ignore it and they’d just—
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
“Cammie, I know you’re awake, and if you aren’t, you should be. We have an emergency.”
I recognized the deep Southern drawl of Anna Beth, the eldest of my cousins, and had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Her idea of an emergency could be anything from a broken nail to a house fire. I opened the door just as her fist rose to pound again. She was dressed in a khaki corduroy skirt and button-down blouse, with simple brown ballet flats. I ran a mental check of my pajamas—an old Rolling Stones T-shirt that was so big it hung off one shoulder and bright pink flannel pants. Awesome.
“What can I do for you, Anna Beth?”
Her eyes narrowed, then drifted beyond me to my bed, her lips curved into a catlike grin. “I see I’m interrupting something. I can just tell your mama that you’re busy. She was needing you downstairs, but clearly—”
“It’s fine, I just need to take a quick shower, and I’ll—”
Anna Beth cleared her throat and smiled sweetly. “If you had gotten up and dressed like every other adult in this house, you would already be showered. As it sits, she asked for you to come downstairs. Now.”
I gritted my teeth together to keep from spitting out a sarcastic response. Anna Beth might not be my favorite cousin, but she was family, and there was a certain protocol for dealing with family. Even the annoying ones who made you want to double-check the bloodline to ensure you were indeed related. “Fine,” I said with a sigh. “Lead the way.”
I followed Anna Beth down the stairs and into the kitchen, where sure enough, there was an emergency. It looked like flour had waged war on our kitchen, on the counters, on the walls, everywhere. Mom’s hands shook as she peered around at the mess.
“Cammie…” Her voice rattled.
“It’s all right, Mom. I’ve got it.” My eyes scanned around for a broom and dustpan and landed on a tiny boy in the corner, so covered in flour I couldn’t make out which one of my cousins he belonged to. “It’s all right,” I repeated to him this time. “Go find your mom and get cleaned up, okay?”
He nodded and took off like I’d just freed him from jail, and I went to work cleaning up the flour blizzard that had struck our kitchen.
“How am I am going to make the cobbler without flour?” Mom asked, her hands on her hips.
“I’ll go to the store. No big deal.”
Her eyes watered. “See, this is why I need you home. You fix things. No one around here knows how to fix anything.”
I laughed. “Mom. I’m just cleaning up. It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal. If you weren’t here, we’d all be staring at this mess, wringing our hands, wondering what to do.”
“It’s fine, really. I almost have this cleaned up, then you can go back to cooking, and I’ll head to the store. All right?”
She pulled me into a hug and began to sob. “Mom. Please. It’s okay.”
Finally, Eric came in and took Mom out of my arms and told me where to find his keys. I wanted to get showered up, but Mom was already so upset. I didn’t want to cause another meltdown by taking too long, and I had no idea how long the cobbler would take to cook. So instead, I darted upstairs and changed my pajama pants for jeans and tossed my hair into a ponytail, then raced back down to find Aidan standing beside the front door, freshly showered and wearing dark jeans and an ivory pullover that set off the golden tones in his skin so perfectly he looked like an angel sent down to guide me through the crazy. Or at least drive me to the store.
“We have an emergency.”
“I heard,” he said, brushing flour from the tip of my nose. “Where do you need me?” he asked, now for the second time, making my heart warm.
I reached for his hand. “Right with me.”
Parking outside the closest grocery store, I bolted inside with Aidan without thinking to check my reflection in the mirror. But it was Thanksgiving Day, and the store was only open until noon. No one would be out. Hopefully. Els
e Pastor Wilkins might call my parents and claim I needed an intervention. We rushed inside and separated, Aidan saying he wanted to grab some Advil while I found the flour. I began reading the aisle headers in search of it when I heard my name called from behind.
Crap.
I spun around, prepared to give a quick hello-I’m-in-a-hurry sort of greeting, when my gaze locked on the one person I’d prayed I wouldn’t see. Blaine.
My mouth gaped as my brain searched for a reply. He looked exactly like I remembered. Wavy brown hair, deep green eyes, the sort of smile of orthodontists’ dreams. I glanced down at my wrinkled jeans and Rolling Stones T-shirt. Dear God, this wasn’t happening.
“Hey,” I managed to say, because the only other option was to run from the store, but then I wouldn’t have the damn flour, and this horror would all be for nothing.
He smiled, his gaze drifting down my clothes before returning to my face. “I’m guessing you’re at home for Thanksgiving?”
“Guilty.” I tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a strangled cough. Just then a brunette walked up to him, her eyes drifting from me to Blaine in question.
“Oh, sorry. Kristin, this is Cameron.”
Ah, Kristin. The fiancée. We were only broken up for six months before I was replaced. Three months later they were engaged. It was like something out of a cheesy romantic comedy. Or a horror film.
She looked at me, and then realization hit her and her smile turned tight. “Right. It’s nice to meet you.” She took in my outfit as Blaine had and I could tell it took effort for her to keep from grimacing. Well, there went the last bit of my dignity.
“Got it!”
I spun as Aidan came out of the aisle, flour in one hand, Advil in the other. “Hey! Aidan! This is Blaine and Kristin!” Why was I speaking in shrill? There should be rules against this kind of encounter. Like check-ins at the entrance. No ex-boyfriends allowed.
Aidan looked quizzically at me, then reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
We stood in awkward silence for a beat, rocking on our heels, no one sure of what to say next, when finally I tapped the flour. “Um, we have a flour situation back at the house, so we better…” I motioned toward the register, and Blaine nodded.
“Right. Of course. Well…it was nice seeing you.”
I took him in once more. “You, too.”
“Ex?” Aidan asked as we slipped back into the car and started back to my house.
I nodded. “The ex. Four years together.”
Aidan went quiet.
“He broke it off senior year, then nine months later he and Kristin were together and engaged.”
“So they were together before?”
Shrugging, I went on. “Maybe. He’s a good guy, though. I don’t think he would have cheated. Who knows. I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
“Do you still love him?”
The question caught me off guard. Aidan and I never talked about our romantic pasts. I had no idea if he’d ever had a serious girlfriend, though with his issues with his father I doubted it.
“I’m not sure I ever did, which was maybe part of the problem. We didn’t love each other. Not like you should to make a relationship work. Certainly not enough for marriage.”
“What about before him?”
I swallowed, thinking back to high school. “Kyle Black. We were together a year. He played football and I cheered. It was very high school.”
We stopped at a traffic light and he looked over, his expression unreadable. “You’ve only ever had serious relationships?”
I shrugged again. “I like the idea of forever.” At this I met his gaze, unwilling to be ashamed of what I wanted in life. Whatever we were didn’t change my hopes for my future. But I had to ask. “You’ve never had one?”
The light turned green. “I’ve never wanted one.”
“Right.”
A part of me wanted to ask more, see if he’d ever met someone who tested his resolve. Tell him he was nothing like his father, surely he was his mother made over, but how could I say any of those things? I knew I walked a dangerous line here, my mind and my heart arguing over how to handle this relationship, and I knew somewhere deep in the shadows of my heart I thought I could change his mind. This, us, could change his mind.
Likely, a hundred girls before me had thought the very same thing, and I wondered how many hearts he’d broken along the way, him never offering anything but the truth, the foolish girl hoping for things he would never give.
What was I thinking, inviting him? Bringing a guy home was serious stuff, not something you did with someone who blatantly said he didn’t want a future. I thought of Mom and Eric, how much they both seemed to like him, and how hard it would be to explain why he would never show up here again. Drawing a long breath, I stared out my window, my heart heavy.
I never should have invited Aidan home.
…
The Thanksgiving meal at my house was like a choreographed dance—plates brought out, then silver, then platters of food, and before long we were all seated at one of six tables decorated around the house. Mom introduced Aidan to the family with pride. They smiled and nodded and asked the normal questions, but otherwise, Thanksgiving flowed like always, and a part of me wondered what it would be like if I lived here. The idea had once been repulsive to me, but now…I didn’t know. I found myself missing home.
After eating dessert, we all went outside, and the men threw around a football with the kids, while the women watched with glasses of tea or wine.
“He’s very nice,” Mom said from beside me. It was the second time she’d complimented him, and I couldn’t help feeling a surge of relief. I had hoped my family would see Aidan the way I saw him, that they would push aside that controlled persona he put out and see him for the caring, sweet, intelligent man that he was inside. That my mom, the person I cared about most, liked Aidan meant the world to me.
I watched Aidan fake a tackle and fall to the ground as three of my cousins’ children jumped on him, screaming with delight. “He is,” I said finally, wishing every Thanksgiving could be like this.
“Maybe he could join us for Christmas, too?”
My back went rigid. Christmas. I didn’t allow myself to think that far ahead when it came to Aidan and me. I liked being with him too much to think ahead.
I opened my mouth to tell her he had to work, when she called out, “Aidan?”
“Mom, no. Let me—”
“Nonsense.”
He jogged over, his hair sticking out in a thousand directions, bits of grass and leaves mixed in like he’d rolled around all day in the yard. I picked out a leaf, smiling.
“Nice.”
“Oh, you like that, do you? We have a volunteer!”
Then he scooped me up and carried me across the yard, holding me down as the kids covered me in leaves. Finally, he released me and helped me to my feet, plucking leaves from my hair as he laughed. Then his eyes met mine and he leaned down to kiss me, ignoring my family. Like it was just the two of us under the clear blue sky.
We walked back to the patio, my thoughts muddled, my chest warm. I’d completely forgotten about what Mom wanted to ask him until Aidan said, “Sorry, Lorelei. What were you saying?”
Her grin spread. “I wanted to invite you to spend Christmas with us.”
He hesitated as his gaze drifted from Mom to me. “Oh…I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“No intrusion at all. We would love to have you.”
My throat constricted as Aidan flashed her a tight smile. “Sure. Count me in.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Aidan closed the door to his apartment the next day, set my bag on the couch, and turned around to face me. We’d barely spoken on the plane, and now that we were alone, I felt the full weight of the tension that had been building between us. Why did I take this chance? Why didn’t I realize how much I would love seeing him there, surrounded by my family, a part of my world? I wanted to make him fee
l a part of something over the holiday, but instead I pushed him too far. Too soon.
“Aidan—”
“Listen, I had a really great time with your family. With you.” Then he focused his attention on me, and in his eyes I saw all the doubts I’d felt being confirmed. “But I can’t do Christmas with your family. Thanksgiving was hard enough. And please don’t misunderstand. I wanted to be there. I wanted to see and experience your family. But at the end of the day, we can’t invest in each other’s lives in that way. We’re not a couple.”
Anger and sadness hit me all at once. “I know damn well what we are. We’re fun and easy, but nothing about this is serious. Any day now, we’ll end things and go back to our own lives, nothing missed. Am I right?”
“It’s how it has to be.”
“But why? Why can’t we change the rules?”
He sighed loudly, then started for the kitchen, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and took a long pull from it, before setting it down roughly on his counter and spinning around to face me. “It always goes this way, you know? Every single time, yet I never learn.”
The anger coiling around in my belly sparked into barely contained rage. “Are you…did you just…?” My head shook as I tried to focus my thoughts, but all I could think about was the Aidan I’d been with over the holiday and how very different this Aidan seemed from him. “You’re scared. You know something’s happening between us and you don’t want to face it, so you’d rather shut it down than give it a shot.”
“I’m not shutting it down. I want to be with you. I want this—” he motioned between us—“to continue for as long as you’re willing to tolerate me. But you’ve changed the play without discussing it with me. Little by little, we’ve edged into this—” His frustration bubbled over and he tossed his hands into the air. “Whatever the hell this is. And now you want more. And you deserve it. If anybody on this fucking planet deserves it, it’s you. You lost your father and have spent every day since becoming this driven, intelligent, amazing woman who sees what other people miss. You deserve a man who will give you everything. But I’m not that man. I never will be.”