by Chloe Liese
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Ugh,” Ziggy says. “I can’t stand half-wet clothes. Be right back.”
“Don’t worry about it, Zigs,” Frankie says. “We’ll take it from here.”
Ziggy shrugs. “Don’t have to tell me twice. I have a book calling my name.”
Turning back to the water, I focus on the dishes, rinsing them, then handing them to Willa. When I glance up, she’s smiling at me, drying a bowl. But she doesn’t say anything.
“Well?” Mom asks, coming back from the bathroom. “Can I help?”
“Get outta here,” I tell her as Frankie hands me another plate scraped clean of food.
Mom smiles as she presses a kiss to my cheek. Then she wanders out to the porch and slips onto Dad’s lap. I turn back to the dishes, my thoughts wandering.
But then the door shuts again behind us and I glance over my shoulder. “Aiden,” I say quietly.
He smiles, setting his beer on the counter. “Ladies, go ahead and relax. I’ll finish these up.”
Willa and Frankie make noises of protest until Aiden all but shoos them out, demonstrating the quiet yet intimidating way he has that I’ve seen on the rare times I could sneak in and watch him lecture. Soon, they’re outside, joining the growing noise of my family, and we’re left alone in the quiet.
That is, until the parrot catcalls him. He glares at her over his shoulder. “Behave yourself.”
Esmerelda ruffles her feathers, then turns away on her stand.
I bite my lip. “You’re the only one she does it to.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he mutters, wiping down the counter, which is covered with water. “That’s not all she says, either.”
“Really?”
His cheeks pink. “She’s got a mouth on her, let’s leave it at that.”
Setting the towel aside, Aiden steps up next to me, heat pouring off of him. He smells even more ocean-water wonderful than normal. I squeeze the sponge beneath the dishwater to rein myself in, so I don’t bury my nose in his shirt and huff him.
“When I told them to go relax, I meant you, too,” he says quietly, peering down at me.
I meet his eyes, so vivid blue against the tan of his skin. I feel about to fall into them and never surface. “I know.” I nudge his hip. “You shouldn’t be here. You helped cook.”
“I needed a break,” he says, rolling his sleeves higher. “I love your brothers, but damn, can they talk.”
Oh, Lord. The sleeve rolling. The forearms. Veins. Tendons. It’s all my catnip. I shut my eyes, so I don’t get any more flustered than I am.
“Freya, I think the plate is clean.”
“Hm?” My eyes snap open. “Yep. Right.”
Aiden smiles softly. “You okay?”
“Totally.” I nod. I’m so far from okay. I’m a top, whirring with so many emotional facets, they’re one wild blur. I feel dizzy and hot, about to spin out of control.
“Here.” Aiden’s hands wrap around my waist, making air rush out of me. Gently, he guides me to the right. “I’ll take a turn washing. You dry, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Quietly, we stand, side by side, washing dishes. Our elbows bump. Aiden’s hands brush mine when he hands me each plate. On the last platter, we almost drop it between us, but Aiden catches it, steadying it in my grip.
“Sorry,” he says, meeting my eyes. “I was distracted.”
“That’s okay,” I tell him hoarsely. “Me too.”
Aiden stares down at the water, pulling the plug. “Did you know you were humming?”
I freeze, halfway done drying the plate. “I was?”
Aiden nods, smiling faintly as he steps closer. “You were.”
And somehow, I know we both know what it means. This tiny thing that I’ve always done, that drifted away when we were at our lowest, has found its way back. I realize, to him, to me…it’s not just humming. It’s hope.
“Forgot these!” Viggo says, bounding in with a fresh pile of glasses and dessert plates, then dumping them in the half-drained sink. “Man, that sucks that someone forgot to run the dishwasher earlier. Happy washing!”
I give Viggo the stink eye as he strolls out, whistling cheerfully.
Aiden turns on the water again and adds more soap. “Personally, I’m not too broken up about staying in here with you, enjoying the quiet, but you can go out if you want.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll stay.” Peering up at him, I feel us lean, closer…closer… Aiden’s eyes flick to my mouth, and then he closes the distance and presses one deep kiss to my lips.
When he pulls away, we both turn back to our task, side by side. The water runs. Aiden scrubs. Quietly, I rinse and dry. Then my hum returns, steadier, louder.
As Aiden wipes down the sink and the water drains in a slow, lazy spiral, it dawns on me—
Somewhere along the way, he started humming, too.
20
Aiden
Playlist: “Heaven,” Brandi Carlile
“Where are we?” Freya asks.
“See for yourself.” I uncover her eyes, watching them widen and adjust to the darkness. She peers around, quiet, taking in our surroundings.
“What is this?”
“Dinner,” I tell her.
Freya glances up at me. “This is not just dinner.”
I smile and shrug. “Well, no.”
She narrows her eyes playfully. “Is this more grand-gesturing and groveling?”
“Is it working?”
Turning toward the picnic spread on the sand, tiny tea lights in lanterns circling it and hibiscus flowers strewn across the blanket, she sighs dreamily. “Yes.”
“Good. Then, yes. I am an unabashed grand-gesturing groveler.”
Her laugh is bright, and the sound makes every hair on my body stand on end. I set my hand on her back, guiding her toward the blanket.
“Why did we drive here?” she asks. “Couldn’t we have just done this outside the house?”
I give her a look. “You honestly think we would have had a moment’s peace there? Your brothers would have built suggestive sand sculptures, then serenaded us with every Disney song that precedes the couple’s first kiss.”
Freya laughs so hard she snorts. “It’s like you know them or something.”
“Oh, do I. More than I ever thought I would, after Brother Bonding Day.”
Freya smiles up at me as she lowers to the blanket and stretches out her legs. “You said it was good, being with them. But a long day?”
I follow, and slip behind her, bracing Freya inside my legs. “Lean back,” I whisper against her ear. She hesitates, then glances over her shoulder, meeting my eyes. I run a hand along her shoulder, down to her fingertips.
Slowly, she relaxes inside my arms, then sets her hands on my thighs.
I press a kiss to the soft skin behind her ear, then reach and scoop up the first dish, popping off the lid. Spearing a piece of fish, I bring it to her mouth. Freya takes a bite, then settles in against my chest, nestling her head beneath my chin. It feels so good, so right, holding her how I used to, feeling her lean into me and sigh contentedly.
“Brother Bonding Day was fun,” I tell her, answering her earlier question. “And exhausting. There’s a difference between twenty-six and thirty-six. I’m not in shape like I once was. Haven’t made time for exercise.”
Freya glances back. “Do you miss it?”
“I miss soccer most.”
She nods. “Me, too.”
“Would you…” I clear my throat, setting down the first container, then opening another. “Would you want to play with me on a co-ed team again? It would need to be once I get everything up and running on the app, if this investor comes through, but—”
“Yes,” she says, her hand landing warm over mine. She squeezes gently, then tangles her fingers with mine. “Whenever you’re ready. I’d like that. But there’s no rush. I’ll probably start back up with my old women’s league, too.”
I smile down at her. “I’m glad. That league always made you happy. Seemed like a good time.” Offering her a new taste of food, I watch Freya’s soft mouth slide over the fork. My skin feels hot, too tight, and I lean into the feeling—longing, hunger. It’s been so long since I could savor her, that I could savor wanting her.
“Aiden,” she says. “This is all so good. Where did you get it?”
“A restaurant nearby. There’s a Blue Hawaiian, too.” I open the cooler next to me. “Here.” Pulling out the to-go Mason jar, I add a straw, a tiny tiki umbrella, then last but not least, a pink hibiscus flower. Then I set it to her lips. “Voila.”
“Fancy. Thank you.” She takes a long sip and smiles. “Where’s yours?”
I lift a seltzer, knocking it with her glass. “Yours truly is driving.”
Humming to herself, Freya gently takes the fork, tasting from each container that’s left. She stabs a piece of fish and turns in my arms, lifting it to my mouth. “Try it.”
Emotion tightens my chest as I stare at her, so quick to share what brings her joy. It’s so Freya. So absolutely her.
Her expression falters. “What is it?”
I grasp her wrist, before she can lower it. “I just…the look on your face. I’ve missed it.” She tips her head, searching my expression. “Happiness.”
Her eyes fill and she quickly wipes the tears away as they spill over. “Sorry,” she whispers.
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Freya.” I wrap an arm around her and press a kiss to the crown of her head. “So very sorry.”
For long quiet moments, she lets me hold her as I kiss her tears away. When I loosen my grip, she gives me a watery smile, then peers out at our picnic. “This is…so lovely, Aiden. Thank you.”
“Thank you for trusting me when I told you to shut your eyes and drove you across the island.”
She laughs faintly and sips her cocktail. “Of course I trusted you.”
Cupping her cheek, I give her one soft kiss. “I don’t take your trust for granted. The past few months, they haven’t made trust easy. They haven’t made any of this easy. I’m sorry for that.”
Peering down, Freya traces a finger through the sand along the edge of our blanket. “Ziggy said something yesterday that stuck with me.”
“What was that?”
She wrinkles her forehead in thought. “She said it’s easy to tell someone they should be open about when they’re hurting, but it’s hard to do that when your pain feels shameful, or…daunting. It got me thinking about how scary failure is for you. How costly it was when you were young. Failure for you and failure for me mean very different things. I wanted you to act how I act when faced with risk, to trust me with those fears. But in the past, in your life, when you’ve felt threatened or vulnerable, you turned to yourself, to survive. Rather than remembering that, I took it personally.”
My heart thuds against my ribs. I slide my palm against hers and grip her hand. “I’m glad failure doesn’t mean for you what it means for me, Freya.”
She meets my eyes, blinking away fresh tears. “I wish you hadn’t grown up like that, Aiden. I hate it.”
“I know. But it’s done. And now look what we have. Look at all that’s before us.” I press a kiss to her temple. “I’d go through it a thousand times.”
“Why?” she asks.
“Because it was part of what led me to you. You’re worth all of that.”
She drops her forehead to my chest, rolling it back and forth as she wraps her arms around my waist. “I wish I’d understood. I pulled away when I felt like you’d pulled away, instead of coming after you. I should have.”
“You were hurting, Freya,” I say quietly. “You shouldn’t have had to chase me down.”
A heavy silence holds between us, but for the sound of an ocean breeze whooshing through palm leaves, threatening our tiny lights in their lanterns.
“Still. We’ll both do better,” Freya says resolutely. She lifts a pinkie as I pull her closer. “Promise?”
I curve my pinkie around hers and kiss where our fingers meet. “Promise.”
“I’m so full,” I groan.
Freya sighs contentedly. “Me, too. That was incredible.”
We lie on the blanket, staring up at the night sky, glittering with stars. “I can’t get over how clear the sky is here,” she says quietly. “How much you can see. It’s stunning.”
I peer down at her, the breathtaking beauty of her face—that long straight nose sparkling with its silver hoop, the sharp line of her cheekbones that I’ve traced with my finger countless times, those soft, full lips pursed in thought. “It is,” I tell her. “Stunning.”
Glancing up, she realizes I’m staring at her. A soft blush pinks her cheeks.
“It reminds me of our honeymoon,” I tell her.
She smiles faintly. “I loved our honeymoon.”
“Oh, me too.” I can’t stop the grin that tugs at my mouth.
Freya swats me halfheartedly on the stomach and wraps her arm tighter around my waist. “Wipe that self-satisfied smirk off of your face, Aiden MacCormack.”
I laugh. “Freya, allow a man to glory in happy memories of how deeply he enjoyed his wife being a nudist for a week on a secluded beach.”
“Oh God,” she mutters, thumping her forehead softly against my chest. “I was so horny.”
“Because you made us wait weeks before the wedding.”
“I wanted our wedding night to be special!” she says.
My fingertips whisper along her arm, reveling in the satin softness of her skin. “It was.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes search mine as her hand settles over my heart. “It really was.”
“And you sang.”
She tips her head, confusion tightening her features. “What?”
“On our honeymoon. You sang constantly. You sang in the shower, in the ocean, in bed, over breakfast, wrapped in my arms. I loved that…that I knew, by how you sang and what you sang…I loved that it told me what you felt. That so often it told me you were happy.”
Freya’s eyes shine, wet with unshed tears, sparkling like the stars reflected in them. “I loved when you played guitar,” she says. “It felt how you talk about my singing—like it showed me feelings you didn’t always say, it showed me your happiness with us, together. Sitting in the backyard, making music together…those are some of my best memories.”
My heart twists at her bittersweet words, the beauty of remembering simpler times.
“That’s why it was so emotional,” she says. “When you played and sang the other night at karaoke.”
I smile down at her. “I know what you mean. That’s how I felt, watching you sing, too.”
“You saw me?” She bites her lip. “I wasn’t sure if you were there yet when I was up at the mic.”
“I was.” Tucking a pale blonde wave behind her ear, I trace the curve of her jaw with my thumb, gentling her delicate skin. “It gave me chills. You looked so alive, Freya. Like something inside you that I hadn’t seen in so long was burning bright again. Such unbridled joy.”
She exhales roughly and palms away a tear that slips out. “That’s how I felt.”
“That’s how I always want you to feel.”
Nestling in, Freya drapes her leg over mine. I pull her close and savor the feel of her lush body tucked against mine. “That’s what I want for you, too,” she whispers. “For both of us.”
I glance up at the sky, drinking in its dark, beautiful vastness. “When we go home, I want to do that again. Sit outside, make music.”
Freya sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. “I’d like that, too.”
Tearing my gaze from the stars, I nuzzle her hair and breathe her in, a whisper of lemons and cut grass, the sweetness of the flower she stuck in her hair. “We’ll quit our jobs. Start a band.”
She laughs, knowing how completely unserious I’m being. “You’d never.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t. Maybe in my next life.�
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“You’d never abandon your students,” she says. “You love them too much. Just like I love my patients.”
I press a kiss to her hair. “I know. They’re headaches sometimes, but mostly they’re just young people trying to find their way, and I like that I get to help them. I remember how hard it was. I empathize with that.”
Her smoky laugh jumps out. “Unless they’re D-1 athletes.”
“Entitled little shits.”
Freya peers up at me, searching my eyes. “But you’ve learned your lesson, after you messed with Willa, haven’t you, Aiden Christopher?”
I smile at her guiltily. “Yes. That was not my finest moment.”
She shakes her head. “You’re lucky they turned out happy together.”
“Oh. About that. I have a confession.”
“What kind of confession?” she asks warily.
“The kind of confession that I’m only confessing because I think it’s outside the statute of wifely-wrath limitations.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “That so?”
I fight a blush. “So, when your brother and Willa were my students and I sent them on that team-building outing?”
“Yes,” she says slowly. “The one I gave you hell for.”
“That one, yep. Well, I gave them a questionnaire they had to use that day, too. It borrowed a bit from corporate workshop material that I had, but it also relied heavily on…couples bonding questions, too.”
Freya bites her lips, very clearly trying not to laugh. “What were you thinking?”
“You didn’t see them pining over each other in my classroom. They just needed a little nudge.”
“A little nudge.”
“Freya, I saw it. They were so perfect for each other. And the thought that a few communication barriers and crappy attitudes could keep them from ever realizing that…” I sigh, feeling the real weight of my words. “I couldn’t take the thought of them missing the love of their lifetime. Because I have that. And I can’t imagine a world without her.”
Her eyes soften. “Aiden.” She wraps her arms tighter around me.
I squeeze her back and kiss her temple, soaking up the feel of her in my arms. Then I pull away and sit up. “C’mon.”