by Chloe Liese
Ren leans forward and pats my knee. “Good. We love you, Aiden.”
A brotherly echo of that wraps around me, making it impossible not to smile back at them. Ryder claps me on the back as Oliver spins in his chair, then sets his feet in my lap.
“Gross, man.” I shove them off. “Too far.”
Oliver howls. “I’m so sore! I just need somewhere to stretch my legs that won’t burn the soles of my feet.”
“The drama,” Viggo says, rolling his eyes, but he traipses over and lifts Oliver’s legs, then spins Ollie until his feet are resting on his thighs. “So, let’s talk strategy.”
I blink at him. “Excuse me?”
The brothers exchange glances before Viggo starts ticking off fingers. “You were bickering in the ocean. Big no-no. You don’t bicker with Freya when she’s pissed. You let her get it all out.”
My left eye twitches. I press a finger to it. “Please. Lecture me more about my wife of nearly ten years.”
“Emphasis on nearly,” he says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
I contemplate how good it would feel to throttle him.
“Next.” Viggo ticks off another finger. “You’re still being an arrogant asshole who can’t be taught. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe just because Freya put up with a certain dynamic for nine years, she was never thrilled about it? Maybe she just wants you to shut your yap and listen to her.”
“Like a teakettle,” Oliver says, as if imparting some deep wisdom, “instead of making it whistle, just lift the lid and let it…steam.”
Ryder snorts.
“I think what Oliver means,” Ren says diplomatically, “is that getting defensive with Freya when she has emotions and thoughts to voice isn’t in your best interest. It’ll backfire. Best to hear her out without arguing point by point.”
“Yeah,” Oliver says. “That.”
Viggo gives his brothers a withering glare. “If I may? As the one guy here who spends a decent amount of time in books that are literally designed for men to understand the female romantic perspective.”
The guys raise their hands.
“Nicholas Sparks has the microphone,” Ryder says.
Viggo exhales deeply and shuts his eyes like he’s trying to talk himself down from violence. His eyes snap open, then lock on me, piercing and pale. “Ollie’s nut-shot seemed to earn you a few points, but clearly we need to work on something else. Something that makes her feel…”
“Loved,” Ren offers. “Loved by you. Is there something special she doesn’t get to do very often? Something meaningful that she hasn’t done in a while, that you could offer as a gesture? It shows her you’re thinking about her and what makes her feel loved, not your idea of showing love.”
I drum my fingers on the armchair. “I took her on an ice cream date, just like our first date. She liked that.”
Viggo nods. “Good, that’s smart. Drawing parallels to when you fell in love. Great. So, how’d it go?”
I deflate. “Oh. Well… Started off strong. Ended really badly.”
Viggo sighs and buries his face in his hands.
“Okay, then it’s too soon for another date,” Ryder says. “She needs a buffer. Something to mentally wipe her RAM.”
“Karaoke?” I offer. “She hasn’t sung in a while.”
They all suck in their breaths.
“Shit,” Ryder exhales. “That’s bad.”
“Definitely bad,” Axel says. “That woman never stops with her damn singing and humming. The humming!” Clearly, this is a grievance from childhood that I don’t understand, because Axel looks like he’s reliving torture. “If she’s not singing, this is serious.”
“You guys are not helping me feel better,” I mutter.
Viggo shakes his head. “Not our job. Our job is to help you not botch this any more than you have. Let’s circle back. I need to know where you are mentally. How’s the book reading going?”
I swallow nervously. “You mean the one you gave me?”
“Yes,” he says, sounding like he’s calling on the patience of a saint. “The book I gave you. The one where the guy’s fucking up epically by compartmentalizing his feelings and expecting his wife’s intimacy in return.”
“Um.” Feeling my cheeks heat slightly, I glance around. “It’s…good. So far.”
Viggo nods. “Go on.”
“What is this, a book report?”
“Easy,” Ryder says. “He’s just trying to help.”
True, but the pressure and expectation that weighed me down the night Viggo hurled the book my way suddenly feels like it’s collapsing my chest.
Of all people, Axel breaks in at the most unexpected time and buys me reprieve. “I’m reading another one of hers, actually.”
Viggo blinks at Axel like he’s short-circuiting. “I’m sorry, you’re what? You actually read it?”
“You keep shoving them in my suitcase every time I visit, what else am I supposed to do, open a romance bookshop in Seattle?” Ax sniffs and picks at his nails. “I started one about a guy who’s a workaholic. Aiden should read that one.”
I narrow my eyes. “Thanks for the brotherly love.”
“Just saying, you’d probably pick up some tips. So far I’ve learned he believes himself incapable of love, but the author’s begun foreshadowing that he says he’s incapable of love because he actually faced a previous painful rejection and thus heads off anyone else having the opportunity to make him feel unlovable again.”
Well, shit. My chest tightens as I try to take a deep breath. Axel’s words bring back the cutting pain I felt when Freya told me to leave, the panic that gripped me when she stormed out of the house not long ago. Isn’t that what everyone feels? Fear of being left? Unloved?
Not everyone’s father left them. Not everyone’s questioned how lovable they are if their own flesh and blood couldn’t be bothered to stick around.
Maybe I will read that book Axel has. After I survive the one I’m reading currently.
Ryder sips from his thermos and frowns in thought. “So how does he learn his lesson? How does he grow? That’s the point of a story, right—how the character evolves?”
“I haven’t read it, but knowing it’s a romance, I’d guess that he learns his lesson as he falls in love,” Ren says, handing Ryder a s’more.
“Hey.” Oliver pouts. “I want a s’more, too.”
Ren smiles. “I’m coming, Ollie.”
“So.” Ryder nudges Axel. “What Ren said, is that what happens?”
“I haven’t gotten that far,” Ax says. “But I imagine it’ll have something to do with a woman showing up and infiltrating his brain until all he does is think about her, worry about her, draw her, dream about her, until he’s miserable and his tidy plans to enjoy a long, uneventful bachelorhood are completely upended.” Axel stares into the fire and mutters darkly, “In other words, rampant chaos ensues.”
A thick, heavy silence hangs between the brothers as they trade glances around Axel.
Until Ren cheerily says, “But at least it’s rampant romantic chaos.”
Viggo blinks at his oldest brother in bewilderment. “Axel. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m chucking that book in the fire,” Ax grumbles.
“Excuse me!” Viggo bellows.
“No,” Axel says, more to himself than anyone else. “I’ll give it to Aiden. That’s a better call. He needs it.”
“Sounds like you need it,” Ryder mutters.
Axel says nothing as he stares into the fire.
Then Viggo’s attention is back on me. “Well. We got all the emotion Ax is willing to part with for the month. So, back to you, Aiden.”
“I’m going to be honest, I’m not too far in.”
“Read. It,” Viggo says. “Because so far, you’re not inspiring my optimism.”
Oliver crunches on his fresh s’more. “Freya’s low. Like, really low. What’d you do before you guys left? She’s worse than she was at the restauran
t.”
Shame slithers through my veins. I rub my forehead. “I fucked up.”
“No shit,” Ryder says around his own s’more. “But how?”
“For the love of God, no graphic details,” Axel warns.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m exhausted from how active we’ve been for the past twelve hours, being forced into weird bonding shit all day with them, or because after talking to this many people this long, my filter’s simply shot, but I blurt the truth. “I was pretty well into seducing her. Then my phone blew up, and I took the message.”
Their jaws drop.
Oliver squirms. “Ew. I don’t want to picture that. Ew. Ew.”
Viggo smacks him upside the head. “Get out of middle school, Oliver. Jesus.”
“You took a phone call,” Ren says, horror painting his face, “while you were… Christ, Aiden! That’s—”
“Horrible,” Ryder says, blinking at me in disbelief.
Axel shakes his head, his mouth a grim slash of disapproval.
“I said I was sorry,” I mutter miserably. “Many times.”
“Yeah,” Viggo sighs, rubbing his temples. “So, sorry isn’t going to fix that one, and you know it. Women need to be shown they’re desirable. You made her feel like second best. You put her in an incredibly vulnerable position, and then you abandoned her.”
“I didn’t abandon her,” I say defensively. “Freya knows I find her desirable.”
“How?” Ren asks. “Not by what you did. And that’s what counts.”
He’s right. I just have no idea what else to do except not do it again.
“Seriously,” Viggo says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Why are we telling you this, when you literally helped me plan my first date, when you gave Ren the courage to ask his high school crush to senior prom? What happened to you? You’re thirty-six years old. You’ve given all of us insight into romantic gestures and dating.”
“Not me,” Axel points out, like this is a badge of honor.
I glare at him.
“Aiden’s expertise is seduction,” Ryder explains. “He could charm the panties off a nun. That’s what he taught us. Groveling, however, is not in his repertoire.”
Viggo rounds on me, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Wait.” He leans in. “Holy shit. You’ve never groveled.”
My cheeks heat.
“How?” Oliver asks. “How have you never groveled?”
“Because before Freya, no one was worth groveling for,” I mumble.
Ryder bats his eyelashes. “Awww.”
“I’m going to punch you in the dick,” I tell him.
Viggo ignores us. “Okay. You need to grovel. Legitimately grovel. I can’t believe I’m honestly spending my Hawaiian vacation saving your sorry ass.”
“I didn’t ask for your help! In fact, I remember explicitly saying just a few weeks ago how much I didn’t want your help. Yet, here we are.”
“Focus,” Viggo says, clapping his hands and disregarding me. “First things first. From now on, Aiden, your phone does not stay in the same room as Freya when you’re—” He shudders. “When you’re together like that.”
“But, with my work—”
“Aiden,” Ren says, leaning, elbows on knees. “I think we all understand better now how pressing your work is for you at the moment. We didn’t get that before, and I can only imagine that trying to develop whatever this business venture is, while your marriage is strained is…well, a lot. Too much. So, for now, you’re going to have to make a choice: devote your energy to making it up to Freya or keep trying to hedge your bets, dividing your time.”
“And I think we’ve seen how well that’s been going,” Ryder says, raising his eyebrows.
Axel shifts and peers at me. “You have a partner in this, don’t you? That guy who was blowing up your phone at Ren’s. Why can’t he cover for you for a week?”
My legs start bouncing nervously. Theoretically, Dan could. But…what if he messed up something while I was off the grid? What if everything I’ve worked for is ruined?
“If you trust this guy enough to collaborate,” Ryder says like he’s read my thoughts, “you would think you’d trust him not to implode your work while you’re unavailable for a few days. In fact, I seem to remember this very rationale being used in a highly manipulative situation when you were Willa’s and my professor.”
“Wait, what?” Oliver asks.
Ryder shakes his head at me. “He said business partners need to be tight, trusting, and on the same page, then used that to force Willa and me into a team-building outing, also known as ‘the waterfall hike that shall live in infamy.’ I had blue balls for fucking months after that.”
Ren frowns. “But wasn’t that a good day? Didn’t you realize you were falling for her after that trip?”
Ryder gives Ren a sidelong glance. “Yes,” he says slowly. “But that’s not my point.”
“Why don’t you get to that, then,” Axel says flatly, rubbing his eyes like he’s about done with this circus. That would make two of us.
“My point,” Ryder says tersely, “was that Aiden preaches the gospel of trusting business partnerships, and unless he wants to expose himself as a giant fucking hypocrite, he better take his own advice, trust his partner, and focus the rest of this vacation on his crumbling marriage instead of micromanaging the business venture he’s working on.”
“Damn,” Oliver says.
I hate that he’s right. I clutch my phone in my pocket.
Viggo’s gaze tracks my movement, then narrows. His fingers drum on his sides. “Okay. So we’re agreed. Aiden needs to lose the phone. Grovel to Freya. And keep reading that romance,” he says directly to me. “Think long and hard about what she’s trying to get through your thick skull.”
“Long and hard.” Oliver smirks. “And thick. Heh. That’s the perk of a romance novel, all right.”
Ren coughs as his cheeks pink. Ryder snorts.
“Wait, what?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”
Ax sighs. “Book boners, dude.”
“Book what?”
A book? Could make me hard? What is this sorcery?
Viggo douses the fire. “You’ll see, Aiden. Just keep reading, and you’ll see.”
Ryder swears suddenly, staring at his phone.
“What?” we all ask.
He flattens his phone against his chest and clears his throat, a hint of pink on his cheeks above his beard. “Nothing. I mean, it’s something, but none of you are seeing it.”
Ren wrinkles his nose. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re so naïve,” Viggo says. “She sent him a nudie.”
Ryder neither confirms nor denies. “The women are getting massages,” he says, fingers tapping his phone. “Then grabbing drinks and a late dinner. I think we should clean up, then get ready to crash a ladies’ night out.”
I groan. I’m so damn tired, the thought of going out sounds miserable. Bright lights, crowded space, loud music…
Wait.
A lightbulb goes off, and I dive for my phone.
“What are you doing?” Oliver asks.
My internet search turns up two places with karaoke, but only one with a live band. Freya will love it. I AirDrop it to Ryder’s phone, and his eyebrows lift as he opens his browser. “Look at you, Aiden.”
I can picture it. The smile on her face when she sings, the way her cheeks flush and her skin glows and she just comes alive. Even if I’m only a fly on the wall, out of her sight watching her sing, seeing her happy will be enough.
Viggo cranes and reads my phone. “Karaoke? You’re sending them there?” He pats my cheek. “See, you’re not entirely hopeless.”
I shove off his hand. “Thanks a lot.”
“Telling Willa now,” Ryder says, thumbs flying. “She’ll make sure they get there.”
Ren sets a hand on my shoulder in reassurance. “You’ve got this. Time for grand gesture number one.”
They all smile
my way. Then I realize what they’re suggesting.
I am not singing in front of an entire restaurant. I have a decent voice. I can play guitar okay. But I am not making an ass out of myself in front of a hundred strangers.
“Guys. No.”
Viggo grabs me by the front of the shirt and hoists me up. “Groveling, Aiden. Yes.”
16
Freya
Playlist: “Rolling In The Deep,” The Ukuleles
An ungodly groan rolls out of Willa through her face cushion on the massage table.
“Hey,” Frankie grumbles. “Some of us like getting massaged without your animal noises.”
Willa laughs. “Sorry. I’m. So. Sore. I can’t help it.”
“Get Ryder to give you massages,” I tell her.
“Heh.” Willa sighs audibly as her massage therapist glides his hands up her oil-slicked back. “Ryder’s why I’m so sore.”
Now it’s my turn to groan.
Frankie cackles. “If I could high-five you right now, I would.”
“I want a new room,” Ziggy mumbles into her face cushion. “A quiet one. And could you please do it harder?” she asks her therapist. “Just brutalize my muscles, and then hands off when you switch things. Light touch is uncomfortable for me.”
Her therapist nods. “Absolutely.”
I have a tiny moment of pride in Ziggy because I couldn’t see her having done that just a few months ago. But now she’s getting more confident in voicing her sensory needs, whether it’s how to be touched in a massage or explaining what she needs for a group outing to work for her.
“Whereas you?” Frankie says to her therapist.
The therapist working her shoulders smiles wryly, as if there’s some shared joke between the two of them. “Keep my hands off your hips,” he says, “or be prepared for some involuntary blasphemous swearing.”
Frankie sighs in contentment as he slides his hands up her neck. “You’re the best.”
“How’s yours feeling?” my therapist asks gently.
“Fine, thank you,” I tell her. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, please.”
After finishing our evening massages, we shower off and slip into comfy sundresses, then catch an Uber to a late dinner and drinks. Mellow and relaxed, I’m looking forward to winding down with authentic Hawaiian food and a good cocktail, enjoying a beachfront view.