by R. J. Lewis
My nostrils flare. “You’re a drunk. You wreak of that poison. Clean yourself up before you even think about fighting for what you care for.”
I step out of the bedroom, surveying the tiny apartment. There’s chaos out here too. My shoes crunch as I step over broken glass and shattered plates. I pause, staring at the tiny living space, at the couch with a blanket and pillow set up. I pull the blanket off and bring it to my nose. Ivy’s scent is imprinted in it.
I swallow hard.
He had her sleep on this sad looking couch this entire time?
I can hear the idiot’s sobs in the bedroom, and I know he’s not going to disappear from her life just yet. He needs that push.
Dropping the blanket, I return to the bedroom and shut the door.
Nineteen
Ivy
We wait in the car, and it feels like forever before Aidan slips in next to me. He has a stern look on his face as he raps the window with his knuckles and says, “My place, Gaston.”
The car begins to move. I stare at the entrance of the apartment building I’ve called home for two years. I expect Derek to burst out any second, but he doesn’t. When it’s out of view, it feels surreal.
I keep looking out the window, clutching my purse tight. I don’t know what to say. I’m shaking from adrenaline and I’m embarrassed of the scene Aidan walked in on. I can’t even look at him.
I can’t believe all of that happened.
I can’t believe I put myself back in that situation again.
Why didn’t I leave sooner? What was I waiting for?
There’s such an immediate relief being out. I built the hurdle in my head until it felt impossible, but now the weight is falling from around me. I can’t believe how instant this feeling is, kind of like I’m not being squeezed so tight anymore. I take a deep breath and I don’t feel like it’s sitting heavy in my chest.
I’m out. It’s finally over. I won’t go back.
I should be crying, shouldn’t I? But I don’t feel any tears coming. The relief is putting me on a high, but I keep waiting for any kind of pain to settle in. I don’t even feel numb.
Thankfully, Aidan spares me conversation. My eyes are pinned on the darkening streets, but I’m hyperaware of his presence. I feel him next to me. I sense his stares and I hear his light movements.
After fifteen minutes, we’re driving through a very exclusive part of the city. The apartment buildings are sleek and new. We pull into an underground parking lot and Aidan’s driver parks in a reserved parking spot. As we step out, I see Aidan’s blue sportscar parked next to the car. My eyes drag to the car beside that one as well. It’s another high-end car. Yellow this time, and one you see in a magazine. Is that…a Lamborghini? Even in my cloudy state, I’m pretty tongue tied. This parking space is all Aidan’s, and he has like ten cars. Those two cars are the only modern ones. The ones in the back are old fashioned and custom.
I remember the conversation we had on the flight.
“You built these?” I ask, looking over at him.
He’s already staring at me, his face still solemn. He doesn’t look at the cars I’m referring to. I feel my skin prickle at the intensity of his gaze.
“Yeah,” he finally says.
I hold the purse straps harder as an awkward silence follows. He turns away from me and begins walking.
“Now you follow,” the driver, Gaston, says.
I look at him quickly. He’s an older man, dressed in a black suit, standing by the opened door of the car like he’s about to jump back in. He’s hiding a smile as he studies me.
“Right,” I mutter. “Thank you for the ride.”
He gives me a quick wave and climbs back into the car. I get my legs to move and follow Aidan to an elevator. He’s already pressed the button and has his hands in his pockets, waiting. The elevator opens and we step inside. He scans a key card on the panel and the doors shut.
Unfortunately, there’s no reprieve from his attention. There are mirrors on every wall. I try not to meet his eye, but a couple times I find myself glancing at him. He looks so calm, hair impeccable – hair I am responsible for giving him, and wow, it fills me with pride just looking at how well it suits him. My eyes trail his body. He’s in a dark grey tailored suit, but it doesn’t look as pressed to perfection as normal. I worry he’s had a stressful day and I’ve inconvenienced the shit out of him.
Aidan’s staring at me and he isn’t hiding it. He’s watching my face closely. I can’t figure out his mood.
The elevator ride is quick. The doors open and I feel caught off guard as we walk straight out and into his home. My legs pause and I glance back at the elevator and then around me. I’m in a large marble entrance room of his apartment…or apartment mansion…or penthouse?
“Cool,” I whisper.
Aidan hears my remark and smirks at me. “Take a look around. I’ll get us something to drink.”
He walks straight into a giant, modern kitchen and rummages around in a pantry room that seems to go on for miles.
I follow his advice and take a stroll. The entire place is open concept. There’s a huge living room with giant floor to ceiling windows. The couches look modern and white, it doesn’t look like anyone’s sat in them ever. He doesn’t have a television. It makes me do a double take. I’m so unused to that. Instead, he’s got built in bookshelves that are deep and loaded with books. They’re even labelled by genre: History, Economics, Politics. No fiction books, though.
“That’s gotta change,” I mutter to myself.
Next to the room is what I can only describe as half a wall. I walk around it and there’s a huge dining room. All of it once again looks like it’s never been touched. There’s a modern gas fireplace built into the half wall, feet from the dining table. I run my fingers along the marble table, glancing briefly at the full basket of fresh fruit in the center. Does he even eat that, or does it die slowly in the basket?
I walk around the table and stop at the floor to ceiling window here, boasting the most stellar view of the entertainment district. There’s a dreamy vibe standing here at night, looking down at all the lights.
So cool.
“There’s a balcony in the living room, if you want to step out for a better look,” Aidan says from behind me.
I turn around. He’s leaning against the half-wall, right over the fireplace, arms crossed. He’s got a soft expression now, like he really isn’t bothered by me after all.
“I’ll check it out,” I tell him. “Your place is nice, Aidan, and I haven’t seen half of it.”
His smile is short and doesn’t meet his eye. “Thanks.”
I’m confused by his mood. I can’t get to the bottom of it. I’m paranoid it’s to do with me, so I do what I do best. I apologize for being an inconvenience.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, and it comes out in a rush. “I had no idea Derek would call you…God, I heard him shouting at you and…”
Aidan doesn’t respond. He just watches me, waiting for more.
I squeeze the purse straps tight. “He found out about you, and he took the phone off me, saw your name and then locked himself up in the bathroom. He must have gone through our conversation. Anyway, I don’t know why you came. I’m sorry if you were concerned. I was okay. You really didn’t need to do that.”
Aidan’s face changes now. His jaw tightens. “You think you were okay?”
“It was just another fight.”
“That was the norm?”
Yes. I hesitate. Then I reiterate, “I’m sorry you felt like you had to come. I don’t mean to be a bother. I…wasn’t going to stay there, just so you know. I was getting ready to leave.”
“Where were you planning to go?”
“To Ana’s.”
“Is she expecting you right now?”
“I uh…I didn’t get that far.”
I’m not making sense, I think. I wonder if he thinks I would have stayed, and that I’m talking bullshit. I want to explain that De
rek was forcing me in the bedroom, but that would sound even worse and…
I let out a shaky sigh and look down at my hands, finally admitting, “You rescued me, Aidan. I…I don’t know how long it would have taken me to get past Derek, to be brutally honest, alright? I…feel like a huge bother, is all. I’m embarrassed by what you saw, that I let it get to that point. I was trying to end it again because he was suddenly wanting to take me out on our anniversary. He said we could make this work, and I kept telling him no. It got ugly fast. I think I’m to blame, too. I should have…done it differently, maybe. I should have known he’d go back to the drink, and…I don’t know…”
I’m rambling, but my heart is hurting.
Tears prick my eyes, but I do everything in my power to keep them from falling. Instead, I swallow down the ache in my throat and stand there, waiting for a response. I can’t cry. I’m also responsible for how the evening went. There were so many things I could have done differently. Ana was right. I should have made an escape plan and taken off. My stupid empathy for Derek kept me rooted in a toxic situation. Actually…I don’t know why I stayed as long as I did. I’m so confused with myself.
When I will myself to look back at Aidan, he’s watching me, unreadable still. My eyes aren’t burning anymore, and I’m composed.
Softly, he asks, “You hungry?”
I don’t feel hungry just because of everything that’s happened, but I need a break from Aidan’s intensity. I nod. “Yeah, you?”
“Come.”
He leads me back to the kitchen and motions for me to sit down on a stool around the island. I sit down, setting the purse down on the ground next to my feet. I watch as he throws his suit jacket off and tosses it around the stool on the other side of the island from me. Then he loosens his tie with one hand, and with the other he’s opening the fridge and pulling out containers. He sets them all down on the island, one after the other until there’s at least ten. He fetches two wine glasses from the cupboard and grabs a wine bottle on the counter he must have already pulled out of the pantry from before.
“Open them all up,” he says, setting down plates and forks. “Let’s see what’s for dinner.”
I give him a weird look as I start to open the containers. “You don’t know what’s inside them?”
He shakes his head and slides into the stool across from me. “My chef comes in here, makes the food, packs them away and leaves. I’m sure she asks me what I want, but I don’t remember ever answering.”
I crack a smile. “She never fucks up?”
He smiles back as he opens the wine bottle and starts pouring it into our glasses. “Not yet.”
I can see why immediately after I’ve opened a few containers. The food smells divine. I feel bad for Aidan’s chef because she obviously can’t be certain what he’s in the mood for, so she has an assortment of meals. Chicken breast, some cut up steak, salad, mashed potato. The list goes on. There’s even hummus, and I can’t help but lick my lips.
Oh, to have a chef. I muse.
Aidan watches me, looking amused as I start to dish out some of the food on my plate with the fork he’s given me. I’m being dainty. I put on tiny amounts because I don’t want to just raid his food and, admittedly, because it’s poor manners. When it’s Aidan’s turn, he shovels giant mountains of food…onto my plate. My eyes widen. My lips spread into a giant grin. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Don’t eat like a bird,” he answers, turning his attention now to his plate. “Can’t stand that shit.”
“What shit?”
“Every woman I’ve dined with has to eat like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like they’re ten pounds. I want you fed and full.”
My face warms at his attentiveness. “I’m just trying to be a lady with manners, Mr West.”
His body stills for a beat. It seems to affect him when I call him by his last name. I like it. Regardless, he lets out a loud laugh, raising his brows now. “Who are you fooling?”
I laugh.
This beautiful man is so close I can touch him, but my stomach is growling now and I’m too busy staring at the food. I eat, all etiquette lost. Ana would be so disgusted by me right now. I haven’t eaten since lunch, though. I’m starving now that I've calmed down and the wine is making my head swim.
“This is so good,” I groan. “Like, insanely good.”
He chuckles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I think I want your chef.”
“You can have her.”
“I can’t afford her.”
He’s studying me. “I can.”
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Rub it in.”
“I meant I’ll have her cook for you if you want. You just need to tell her what you like.”
He’s actually offering.
My chews slow. “No, Aidan, it’s okay. I can cook for myself.”
“You any good in the kitchen?”
“When I want to be, yeah.”
He nods slowly, liking that. “Cook for me sometime.”
I smile. “Okay, but you gotta let me know what you want.”
He smiles back, and my heart jumps. “I don’t care, Ivy. Just a good old fashioned home-made meal will do.”
I eye him strangely now. “Haven’t had a good one in a while?”
His smile is wistful now. “Not for years.”
I don’t know why, but I’m sensing Aidan is…lonely. Which is insane to even consider because look at him and who he is! The man is loaded, can have anyone here at the snap of his fingers, and yet… his home looks like it was picked out of a magazine. It’s clinical and void of any sort of personality. I look around at the containers, at the restaurant quality food we’re eating. He wants a meal with a human touch. I kind of feel like I’m looking past the curtain right now. Aidan on the surface is mostly unreadable, but the way he’s looking at me now, I sense vulnerability.
“I will make you a good old-fashioned lasagna, Mr West,” I promise, grinning at him. “But you can’t make fun of it. I’m a messy presenter. It won’t be Gordon Ramsey on a plate, okay?”
His face remains soft as he looks back at me. He doesn’t smile wide or feed into the humor I’m trying to infuse.
“Okay, Ivy,” he says quietly.
I look down at the food, pretending to be interested now in these award-winning steak cuts, but I’m actually nervous as hell. Aidan’s attention is making me feel self-conscious. I keep feeling like something is about to happen, but it doesn’t, and I’m lingering just before the edge.
I drink some more.
At some point, I ask him, “You mind if I have my Spotify on?”
“Your what?”
I hold back a laugh. “Music.”
“Go for it, Ivy.”
He’s taking bites, but his attention is on me as I grab the shattered phone from my purse and scroll through my playlist. It’s hard because the screen is cracked to shit, but at least it’s working. God bless Samsungs. I scooped it up quickly on my way out of the apartment without checking it. I purposely avoid the social apps. What if Derek messaged me? I don’t need that negativity. I have no desire to even see what messages are lurking there. No, instead I turn off my data and focus on dinner and music.
I need something good. Something fun. Something that will alleviate this intense dinner with Aidan West. I put on Dance Monkey and set the phone down next to my plate. This is an immediate mood lifter.
As the song plays, Aidan eyes me, his amused expression growing. I’m eating like an animal; my pretty bangle is clanging audibly against the shitty ones. I’m pretty sure my make-up is ruined and my hair…god, what does my hair look like after a day of stressfully raking my fingers through it?
“What are you looking at?” I ask him playfully, catching his eye.
He doesn't blink. "You."
I try not to shake.
“For the occasion, this is the most what-the-fuck song, Ivy,” he adds.
I laugh. “
If I was any happier, I’d actually be dancing to it.”
“Be happier,” he tells me, and he’s not being playful at all.
He’s serious.
“I can’t dance right now,” I tell him. “I sort of had a bad day.”
“Why are you so full of shit?”
I feign a look of shock. “I’m not.”
“Baby, you’re swaying to the song already.”
My heart hiccups in my chest. “The song is ending anyway.”
“Put it on again and dance for me.”
My face is so red. I regret putting on music now. “I’m embarrassed to dance in front of you.”
“Why?”
I give him a look. “Because it’s…you. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself.”
He’s not eating. He’s smiling softly at me, the stubbornness in him present as he tells me, “You danced with me the night we went out.”
“That was different. We danced together.”
“I’ll dance with you then.”
I just stare at him as the song starts up again. Stupid auto-play.
Aidan doesn’t wait for my response this time. He gets up – and my heart jumps and then quickens – and rounds the island. He offers me his hand, staring down at me now with that loosened tie, that sexy as fuck haircut I gave him, those eyes playful and serious at the same time, those lips still curved in a soft smile.
I take his hand and slide off the stool. I’m surprised by his lead. He takes my hands and wraps them around the back of his neck and then his hands are on my hips.
“Be a fool,” he tells me in the most seductive tone. “I like it, Ivy.”
My hips sway to the song, and my eyes are pinned on the bottom half of his face. I can’t look him in the eyes. My cheeks are burning hot, and if it wasn’t for that wine, I would have been stiff as a board. But I feel a little looser. My head is swimming in a good way. Aidan’s touch is light, but I feel his desire. He’s watching me and wanting me. There’s something primal about his yearning. It fills me with confidence. I know you’re not meant to have someone be responsible for making you feel self-worth, but he makes me feel worthy of his company. It’s flattering and it gives me a boost I didn’t expect I needed, like…maybe I’m not as much of a nobody as I led myself to believe I was. Maybe I’m capable of more.