The Nanny

BERKLEYROMANCE
PublishedbyBerkley
AnimprintofPenguinRandomHouseLLC
penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright?2023byLanaFerguson
ExcerptfromTheFakeMatecopyright?2023byLanaFerguson
PenguinRandomHousesupportscopyright.Copyrightfuelscreativity,encouragesdiversevoices,promotesfreespeech,andcreatesavibrantculture.Thankyouforbuyinganauthorizededitionofthisbookandforcomplyingwithcopyrightlawsbynotreproducing,scanning,ordistributinganypartofitinanyformwithoutpermission.YouaresupportingwritersandallowingPenguinRandomHousetocontinuetopublishbooksforeveryreader.
BERKLEYandtheBERKLEYandBcolophonareregisteredtrademarksofPenguinRandomHouseLLC.
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Names:Ferguson,Lana,author.
Title:Thenanny/LanaFerguson.
Description:Firstedition.|NewYork:BerkleyRomance,2023.
Identifiers:LCCN2022038780(print)|LCCN2022038781(ebook)|ISBN9780593549353(tradepaperback)|ISBN9780593549360(ebook)
Subjects:LCGFT:Romancefiction.|Novels.
Classification:LCCPS3606.E72555M372023(print)|LCCPS3606.E72555(ebook)|DDC813/.6—dc23/eng/20220818
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2022038780
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2022038781
FirstEdition:April2023
CoverdesignbyRitaFrangie
CoverillustrationbyMonikaRoe
BookdesignbyAlissaTheodor,adaptedforebookbyKellyBrennan
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
pid_prh_6.0_143149737_c0_r0CONTENTS
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
ExcerptfromTheFakeMate
AbouttheAuthorTomysweetmother,whoonceaskedme:“Wouldn’tyouratherwritechildren’sbooksinstead?”ItoldmyselfIwouldn’tbenervous.
Theycan’tactuallyseeme,sowhyismyheartpoundingsohard?
Iadjustmycameraforthefourthtime,checkingtheanglebeforeIassessmyoutfitagain.It’sacutebra,andtheunderwearmatch—whatcomesnextisnothingthatIhaven’tdoneathousandtimesbefore.
It’sjustthatnow,I’llbedoingitforunseenviewersforpay.
Itakeadeepbreath,remindingmyselfthatIneedthemoney.Thatit’smybody,andI’mtakingownershipofit.EverythingthatIdofromthispointonwardismychoice,andI’mincompletecontrol.
Thatthoughtmakesmefeelbrave.
Itakeadeepbreath.Icheckmywig.Iadjustmymask.
Icandothis.
Istartthecamera.
CHAPTER1Cassie
I’mgoingtobehomeless.”
IhearWandacluckinghertongueallthewayfromherkitchen(which,incidentally,isn’tthatfarawayinaseven-hundred-square-footapartment),andwhenIraisemyfacefromtheagedvelvetofhercouch,Icanseehershakingaspatulaatme.“Nopityparties,”shetellsme.“Youaren’tgonnabehomeless.Youcantakethecouchifneedbe.”
Imakeafaceattheaforementionedvelvetcouch,glancingfromittothepileofnewspapersattheendofittothetelevisionthatdefiestimebyrefusingtodieinsideitswoodenshell.“Icouldn’t…impose,”Isaytentatively,notwantingtohurtherfeelings.“I’llfiguresomethingout.”
Inmythirdyearofgradschoolforoccupationaltherapy—losingmyjobasatherapyassistantatthechildren’shospitalwasnotpartoftheplan.I’vebarelybeenmakingrentwiththesalarytheyweregivingme,andnowthatthey’vehadtodownsize,myeventinierapartmentacrossthehallfromWanda’splaceislookingmoreandmorelikeitwillbeathingofthepastverysoon.
“Nonsense,”Wandaargues.“Youknowyou’rewelcomehere.”
Iblowoneauburncurlawayfrommyface,pushingupfromthecouchcushionstoasittingposition.I’veknownWandaSimmonsforaboutsixyearsnow;ImetherwhensheinvitedmeinforteaafterIlockedmyselfoutoftheapartmentmyfirstweekhere.Aseventy-two-year-oldwomanasmybestfriendwasn’texactlyonmylistofthingstoaccomplishhere,butshemightbemoreinterestingthanIam,soIguessthere’sthat.
“Wanda,”Isigh.“Iloveyou.Youknowthat,but…youhaveonebathroomandnoWi-Fi.Itwouldneverworkoutbetweenus.”
“It’stheagedifference,isn’tit,”shepouts.
“Absolutelynot.Youwillalwaysbetheonlywomanforme.”
“I’mjustsaying.Theoptionisthere.”
“Andwhatareyougoingtodowhenyoubringhomeyourbingomen,andI’msittinghereonyourcouch?”
“Oh,wewon’tbotheryou.We’llgotothebedroom.”
Igrimace.“Iamallforyougettingyours,butIabsolutelydon’twanttobeontheothersideoftheseverythinwallsforit.”
Wandachucklesasshestirsthesauceforhermeatballs.“Youcouldalwaysgobacktodoingthoseboobycams.”
Igroan.“Pleasedon’tcallthemboobycams.”
“What?It’sacamera.Youshowyourboobies.Yougetpaid.”
Iletmyfacefallbackagainsthercouch.IsortofregrettellingWandaaboutmy…historywithOnlyFans,butIhadn’tquiteanticipatedthatshewouldbeabletohandlehertequilabetterthanIdidthenightIbareditall.NotthatI’mashamedofit,byanymeans.Itwasgoodmoney.TakingcashfrompeoplelookingtogettheirrocksoffwasaneasydecisionwhenfacedwithaloomingtuitionbillthatIcouldn’tbegintopayforotherwise.Imean,goodtitsshouldreallyearntheirkeep.IthinkMargaretThatchersaidthatonce.
“YouknowIcan’t,”Isigh.“Ideletedmywholeaccount.Allmysubsaregone.Itwouldtakemeanothertwoyearstobuildthembackup.”
Besides,Ilearnedmylessonthefirsttimearound.AtleastIkeptthatparttomyself.
“Thenwhatareyougoingtodo?Haveyoubeenlookingforanotherjob?”
“Tryingto,”Igrumble,scrollingthroughthesamehelpwantedadsonmyphonethathavemostlynotpannedout.“Whyputouthelpwantedadsiftheyaren’tgoingtogetbackwithyou?”
“Toomanypeopleinthiscity,”Wandatuts.“Youknow,whenImovedhere,youcouldactuallywalkdownthestreetandrecognizefolks.Nowit’slikeabeehiveoutthere.Alwaysbuzzing.Didyouknowtheyhaveadamnedgrocerystoreyoudon’tevenuseyourcardin?Justwalkinandwalkout.ThoughtIwasstealingthewholetime.’Boutgavemeheartpalpitations.”
“Yes,wetalkedaboutthenewFreshstore,remember?Ihelpedyousetupyouraccount.”
“Oh,yeah.Nextthingyouknow,they’llbeflyinggroceriesrighttoyourdoor.”
“Wanda,Ihatetobreakittoyou,buttheyalreadyare.”
“Nokidding?Hmm.Youshouldsetthatuptoo.Savemeadamnedwalk.”
“Iguessyou’renotsoopposedtothefutureafterall.”
“Yeah,yeah.WhataboutthedineronFifth?”
“Theywon’tletmeoffformyon-campuslabs.”
“Youknow,Salwassayinghecouldusesomehelpwith—”
“Iamnotworkingatthedeli,”Itellherfirmly.“Salistoohandsy.”
“Ialwayssortoflikedthatabouthim,”Wandalaughs.
“Aren’tyoutoooldtobethishorny?”
“I’mold,Cassie,”shesnorts.“Notdead.”
“Seriously,Idon’tknowwhatIamgoingtodo,”Igroan.
“Checktheadsagain.Maybeyoumissedsomething.”
“I’vecheckedthemadozentimes,”Ihuff.
WandaisstillgrousingatmefromthekitchenasIporeoverthehelpwantedsectionagainregardless,thinkingthatifIscanitenoughtimes,somemiracleadwilljumpoutatmethatIdidn’tnoticebefore.Howcanitbesohardtofindajobthatwillletmedomyschoolworkatnightandbeoffeveryotherweekendformyon-campuscourses?Imean,thisisSanDiego,notSantaBarbara.There’sgottobesomethingthatIcan—
“Oh,shit,”Isaysuddenly.
Wandastepsoutofthekitchen,spatulainhand.“What?”
“Wanted:full-timelive-innannyposition.Experiencewithchildrenisamust.Freeroomandboard.Seriousinquiriesonly.”
Wandahumphs.“Youdon’twanttobestucktakingcareofsomeoneelse’s—”
“Entrysalary…Holyshit.”
“Isitgood?”
IlookupatWandawithanopenmouth,andwhenItellherwhatthey’reoffering,WandasaysawordsheusuallyonlyreservesforwhentheLakerslose.Sheblowsoutabreathafterward,pattingatherneatwhitecurlsinthatflusteredwayofhers.“Iguessyou’dbestbecallingthemthen.”
—
Ihadn’texpectedAidenReidtogetbacktomeasquicklyashedidafterIemailedhim,andIcertainlyhadn’texpectedhimtoseemsoeager,insettingadateforaninterview.Andspeakingofdate,Idefinitelyhadn’texpectedhimtoaskmetomeethimatoneoftheposhestrestaurantsinthecity—oneIcannotaffordtoeatatandonethatIamprettysureIamtoounderdressedtoevenbein.Isthishowrichpeopleholdinterviews?IdoubtSalatthedinerwouldbetreatingmetoafive-starrestauranttogetmetosliceturkeyforhimwhileheaccidentallybrusheshishandacrossmyass.
Still,I’veputonmyfavoriteblacksheathdress,theonethatIworetomycollegegraduation,andIhopeitmakesmeseemalotmoreputtogetherthanIfeelrightnow.SinceIamnowunderthesuspicionthatthefamilyIamtryingtonannyforismorewell-offthanIfirstthought,I’mthinkingalittlefalseconfidencewilldomeaworldofgood.
Imean,Ilovekids.AndIlearnedworkingatthechildren’shospitalthatthey’rethetargetdemographicofmyterriblejokes,sothat’saplus.Besides,theentirereasonthatIampursuingacareerinoccupationaltherapyistotrytobethatpersonwhoisthereforchildrenwhennooneelseseemstobe—sowiththatinmind,thisjobshouldbeapieceofcake,right?
That’swhatIkeeptellingmyself.
IswearthehostesscansmellmyvanillabodysprayfromTarget,andshesomehowknowsthismeansIcan’taffordtheappetizershere,butshepastesonasmile,muchtohercredit,andleadsmetoatableafterIgivehermywould-beemployer’sname.Isthiswhatitfeelsliketohavepull?Itakeaseatinthesilk-coveredchair,feelinglikeafishoutofwateramidthelitcandlesandtheelegantmusic.Hell,I’mafraidtoputmyelbowsonthetable.
AwaitercomesbytoaskifIwanttostartwithanyappetizers,andsincethehostesswiththejudgyeyeswasabsolutelyright—IaskforwaterinsteadwhileIwait.IsipitasIwaitforthisAidenguytoshowup(seemskindofrudetobelatetoyourowninterview),tryingtolooklikeItotallyeatatplaceslikethisallthetime.
TherestaurantitselfisthenicestI’veeverbeenin.I’veneverseensomanycrystalcenterpiecesinmyentirelife,andWandawouldlosehershitifshesawthepricesonthemenu.Ican’twaittotellherlaterandwatchhereyesbugoutofherhead.
“Excuseme,”someonesays.
Thedeepvoicemurmuredsocloselytomyearnearlymakesmechokeonmywater,abitdribblingovermybottomlipanddownmychinasIcoughthroughit.Ipressthebackofmyhandtheretotrytowipeitaway,noticingbighandsinmynow-blurredvisionasafacecomesintoview.
Holy.Hell.
Mybrainshort-circuitsforafewseconds,tryingtomakesenseofthesuddenappearanceofalargemanwiththickchestnuthairthat’spushedawayfromhisforeheadandstrongjawandstrongercheekbones,andishismouthsofterlookingthanmine?He’stalltoo.Notthesortoftallthatmakesyouthinkheplaysbasketballorsomething(althoughhetotallycould,ifhewantedto),butthekindoftallthatmakesyouwanttoaskhimtograbsomethingoffthetopshelfforyoujustsoyoucanwatchthewayhisshouldersmoveunderhisshirt.Irealizethisthoughtprocessmakeslittlesense,butallIknowisIamfivesevenwithtitsworthpayingfor,anassbuiltonsquatsandanemotionalconnectionwithbread,andthismanmakesmefeeltiny.
Andifthesethingsaren’tenoughtoleavemedumbfounded(whichIam,Imean,I’mliterallydroolingsparklingwater)—hiseyeswoulddothetrick.I’veheardofheterochromia;attheveryleastI’mprettysuremybiologyprofessormentioneditinpassingwhenIwasanundergrad,butIhaveneveractuallyseenitinperson.Hiseyesareaclashofonebrownandonegreen,thecolorsnotbrightbutsubtle,likewarmteaandseawaterthatarehardtolookawayfrom.
IrealizethatthisisexactlywhatI’mdoing.Staringatthepoorguy.
“I’msorry,”Isputter.“Sortofcaughtmeoffguard.”
Igrabthenapkintostartpattingatmychin,noticingnowthatthemaniswearingawhitechefcoatwithamatchingaprontiedaroundhiswaist.
“Oh,”Istartagain.“Iwasn’tgoingtoorderanythingyet,Iwaswaitingforsomeone.”
“Right.”Heflashesarowofperfectteeththatmyorthodontistwouldbeecstaticover,lookingalmostlikeheregretshavingwalkeduptothetable.OrmaybeI’mprojecting.“Ithinkyou’rewaitingforme.AreyouCassie?”
“I—”Ohno.No,no,no.IdidnotspitwaterallovermyselfinfrontoftheguyI’mtryingtogettohireme.“AreyouMr.Reid?”
Hemakesaface.“Aiden,please.Mr.Reidmakesmefeelold.”
Whichheisn’t.Idon’tthink.Imean,he’solderthanmebutnotold.Hecan’tbeanyolderthanthirty,I’dwager.I’mstillsortofgawkingathim.“Right,”Isay,tryingtocollectmyselfasIpushawayfromthetableandextendmyhandawkwardly.“I’mCassie.CassieEvans.”
Hismouthquirksatmyextendedhand,makingmeimmediatelyregretholdingitoutlikeI’mdoinganoff-BroadwayrenditionoftheTinManinTheWizardofOz,butthere’snotakingitbacknow.HeshakesitinwhatIcanonlyassumeisanattempttobenice,gesturingbacktomyseatandwaitingformetositbeforehetakestheoneacrossfromme.
Iclearmythroat,tryingtoforgetthataminuteagoIalmostspitwateronthehottestmanalivewhoIverymuchwanttopaymearidiculousamountofmoneytowatchhiskid.Hiskid,Iremindmyself.Thisisajobinterview.WhichmakesittotallyinappropriatethatI’mstillthinkingabouthismassivehands.Handsthatmyhindbrainactuallynoticesaren’tsportingaringofanykind.
Cutitout,brain.
Ishouldstopstaringathishands,inanycase.Eveniftheyarelargeenoughtomakeagirlmentallycalculatewhenherlastdatewas.
“So,”Itryawkwardly.“You’reacook.”Igroan,instantlyregrettingmychoiceofwords.“Sorry.Imeanachef.You’reachef.Right?”
Miraculously,hedoesn’tcalltohavemeremovedbutsmilesinstead.“Yeah.Icookhere.”
Oh,blesshimforhumoringme.
“That’s…awesome.Reallyawesome.”InodappreciativelyasIglancearoundusattheglitteringchandeliersandthepianoplayersomewherebehindus.“It’sasnazzyplace.”
“Itis,”heagrees.“I’vebeentheexecutivechefhereforafewyearsnow.”
“Nokidding?Fancy.”
“Fancy,”heechoes,lookingamused.“Right.Sorrytoaskyoutomeetmeatwork.I’vebeen,ah…well.It’sbeencrazylately.”
“It’snobigdeal.Ithoughtitwasweirdtodooneofthesethingsoverdinner,especiallyataplacelikethis,butIfigured…”ItmighthavebeenniceifithaddawnedonmebeforeIhadstartedsputteringmynonsense,butnevertheless,itdoeshitme.Theimplicationsofwhathe’ssaid.Mymouthsnapsshutasheatfloodsmyface,andIduckwithembarrassmentasIcovermyeyes.“OhmyGod.Thisisn’tadinnerinterview.Youwantedtotalktomeonyourbreak.”
“Ishouldhave…beenmoreclearinmyemail.”
OhGod.He’stryingtodefendme.Someoneburyme.
“I’munbelievable.”
“No,no,”hetries.“It’sfine.”
“God,I’manidiot.Iworethisdumbdress,and—”
“It’saverynicedress.”
“YouprobablythinkI’mbonkers—”
“Really,Idon’t.”
“Icanbesodensesometimes,I’msorry.”
Hestilllooksamused.Likehe’sfindingmymentalbreakdownfunny.Idon’tknowifthatmakesthingsbetterorworse.
“Youcanordersomething,”heoffers.“Ifyouwant.Idon’tmind.”
“Um,thankyou,butImightneedtogothrowupnow.Ishouldseemyselfout,right?Thisisalreadyadisaster.”
“Wait,no.”HeholdsoutahandasImovetostand.“Don’tdothat.”
Istoptryingtoslinkaway.Surelyhecan’tstillbeconsideringme,canhe?Maybehe’sbonkerstoo.“Youstillwanttointerviewme?”
“Tobehonest,”hesighs,“noonehasappliedwithanythingnearyourcredentials.CPRtraining,abachelor’sinoccupationaltherapywithaminorinpsychology?Imean,yourlastjobwasatachildren’shospital.AndtheyhadnothingbutgoodthingstosayaboutyoutherewhenIcheckedyourreferences.Italmostsoundedliketheyhatedtoletyougo.”
“Yeah,Iwasprettybummedwhentheydid,”Iadmit.“Therewasafundingissue,unfortunately.Ilovedthework.”
“Well,”helaughs,“I’mhopingtheirlossismygain.Icouldn’tbelieveitwhenyousentmeyourrésumé.”
“Butnowthatyou’vemetme,you’rebeginningtothinkIforgedit,right?”
Hesortoflaughs,hismouthbarelyopeningashecastshiseyesdownatthetable,likehe’safraidofmakingmethinkhe’slaughingatme,whichwouldbewellwithinhisrights,consideringthisawfulfirstmeeting.
“No,”hesays.“Idon’tthinkyouforgedit.Though,Iamcuriouswhyyou’relookingatanannypositionwithyourbackground?”
Isinkbackdownintomychair,heavingasighasIleanoverthetable.“CanIbetotallyhonestwithyou?”
“I’dpreferit,”hesays,leaninginandlookingintrigued.
“I’minmylastyearofthegraduateprogramforOT,andlikeIsaidinmyemail,Igotletgofrommyjobduetodownsizing.Rentinthiscityisridiculous,andhonestly,Ineedthemoney.Andevenmorehonestly,thefreeroomandboardisn’tanythingtoturnmynoseupateither.Itwouldbegreattonothavetoworryaboutthatontopofeverythingelse.”
“Right.Aboutthat.”Hefrownsthen,andIassumethisisthepartwherehetellsmethatheactuallycan’tallowaspittinglunaticlikemeanywherenearhiskid.“Itisalive-inposition,butfulldisclosure…it’sjustmeandmydaughter.Youwouldhaveyourownroom,ofcourse,practicallyyourownfloor,even—fullprivacy,andallthat,but…Iwanttobecompletelytransparentwithyouincasethatmakesyouuncomfortable.”
Twenty-fiveyearsold,andthefirsttimeIlivewithagood-lookingguyisinafull-onUptownGirlsscenario.I’mdyingtoaskabouttheotherparentinthissituation,ifonlytosquashmymentaldrooling,butmybrainisscreamingthatthisisthewrongmove.Still,he’sgotagoodjobandanicesmileanddoesn’tgivemetotalmurderervibes.
Ipasteonmymostprofessionalsmile.“Idon’tthinkthatwillbeaproblem.However,inthespiritofbeingtransparent…I’minahybridprogramatSt.Augustine’soverinSanMarcos.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Itmeansthatmostofmycourseworkisonline,whichIhavebeentakingcareofatnightafterwork,buttwoweekendsamonthIhavetoattendon-campusclasses.Ittakeslongerthantheusualprogram,butsinceI’vebeenpayingmyownway,itmakesworkingeasier.MostofthejobsIhavebeenapplyingtohaven’tbeenabletoworkwithmeonmyschedule,though,whichissortofadealbreaker.”Ichuffalaugh.“Itseemsthatyou’retheonlyonewhothinksmycredentialsareimpressive.Diners,dives,anddepartmentstores?Notsomuch.”
Aidenfrowns,thinking.“Iwon’tpretendthatIgethomeatareasonablehoureverynight.Myjobisstressful—that’sactuallyanunderstatement.Myjobisanightmaresometimes.Ihavemostmorningsoff,andsometimesIdon’thavetogoinuntiltheafternoons…butmynightscangetlate.Doyouthinkitwouldbeaproblem?Sophienormallygetsintobedbynine.I’msurethataslongasshe’sfedandreadyforbed,youcouldworkonyourschoolwork.”
“Sophie?Yourdaughter?”
Aidensmilesanewkindofsmile,onethatfeelswarmandproud,butitclasheswiththeflashofsadnessthatsparksinhiseyes.“Yes.She’s…reallygreat.She’snine,butsheseemssomucholderthanthat.She’stoodamnedsmartforherowngood.”
“Littlegirlsusuallyare,”Ilaugh,thinkingofmyself.“AndtheweekendsthatIhaveschool?Icouldbehomebylateafternoon.SoIcanstillcoverdinner,surely.”
Aidenconsidersthis.“Icanmakeitwork.Imean,Ihavesofar,anyway.Ifworsecomestoworst,maybeyoucouldpickheruphereonthosedays?Shecouldplayherlittlegamesystemintheofficewhileshewaits.She’s,ah,usedtothatbynow,unfortunately.”
“Andyourdaughter?Issheokaywithallofthis?Thenannysituation?”
Aidennodsthoughtfully.“She’shadthembefore.Nonehavereally…fitthough.I…CanIbehonestwithyouagain?”
“Ipreferit,”Itellhim,echoinghisearliersentiment.
Aidenlaughsagain,andIdeterminethatIamgoingtohavetomakeitapointnottomakehimlaughveryoftenformyownsanity’ssake,ifI’mgoingtobelivingwithhim.It’saverynicelaugh,okay?“Ijust…Ineedsomehelp,Cassie,ifI’mbeingblunt.I’mdoingthisallalone,andit’smuchharderthanIthoughtitwouldbe.Ormaybeit’sexactlyashardasIthoughtitwouldbe.Idon’tknow.Sophiecanbevery…strongwilled,andthat’smadeitdifficulttofindsomeonewhoiswillingtostickaround.I’vebeenlookingforareplacementforthelastnannyforweeks,becauseIwantedtofindthebestfitforSophie,andabsolutelynoonehasappliedforthejobthathasbeenhalfasqualifiedasyou.It’sbeenweeksofjugglingschedules,andatthispoint,I’mdesperate.”
“That’s…veryhonest.”
“Youcanrunawayscreamingatanytime.”
Strangely,Ihavenodesiretodothat.Somethingaboutthistired-soundingmanwithhisprettyeyesandhisstomach-flutteringlaughmakesitkindofhardtosaynotohim.Nottomention,thereisstilltheridiculousamountofmoneyhe’soffering.
“So,howwouldthisgo?IfIsayyes.”
“Well,I’dloveforyoutostartassoonasyoucan,”hetellsme.“MaybeyoucouldcomebythisSaturday?IcouldintroduceyoutoSophieandshowyouthehouse.Whereyou’dbestayingandallthat…Ifyoutakethejob,thatis.”
I’dbesillynotto,right?Imean,whenisanythingelsethisgoodgoingtocomealong?Sure,it’sdaunting,theideaofbeingdirectlyresponsibleforsomeone’skid,nottomentionlivingintheirhouse…especiallythisguy’shouse…Still.Idon’tthinkit’sanofferIcanactuallyaffordtorefuseinmyposition.
“Okay.”
InoddownatthetableasIcometoadecision,meetingAiden’seyesandonceagainstickingoutmyhandacrossthespaceinathoughtlesswaythatIimmediatelyregret.
Seriously,whydoIkeepdoingthat?
Thankfully,Aidensighswithrelief,takingmyhandagainandenvelopingitinhismuchlargerone.“Soyouwantthejob?”
“Aslongasyouwantme,”IsaywithwhatIhopeisconfidence.
Itrynottothinkaboutthewayhiseyeswidenwithmyweirdphrasing;itwon’tdotoregretmynervouswordvomitnow.ThankGodhe’ssodesperate.
AndI’mdefinitelynotthinkingabouthowhishandswallowsmine.Chatwith@alacarte
@alacarte
sentyoua$20tip
Ilovethewayyoucome.
CHAPTER2Cassie
BythetimeSaturdayrollsaround,AidenandIhavealreadyhammeredoutmyscheduleandthespecificsofmysalary.Inthattime,I’vebeenabletoconvincemyselfthatthisisgoingtobeagreatgig,evenifonlytoeasethenervesoflivingunderahotguy’sroofandhopinghiskiddoesn’thateme.AssureasIamaboutmynewcareerpath,however,Wandaisnotsoconvinced.TheentiretimeIhavespentfinishingupbaggingmyclothesonthemorningI’msupposedtoheadtoAiden’s(aneasytask,giventhatthereissolittleI’vecollectedovertheyearsthatI’vedeemedworthsavingoutsideoftheessentials),Wandahastakenituponherselftointerviewmeaboutmyinterview,grillingmeforeverydetailaboutthemysteriousmanI’llbelivingwithallwilly-nilly.(Herwords,notmine.)
“Whatifhedoesn’tevenhaveadaughter?”
Irollmyeyes.“Hehasadaughter.”
“Itcouldallbesomeelaborateschemetolureyoutohishousesohecanlockyouinhisbasement.”
“Helivesinatownhouse,”Itellher.“Idon’teventhinktheyhavebasements.”
I’mnotentirelysureaboutthat,seeingasI’veneverbeeninone,butWandadoesn’thavetoknowthat.
“Weneedtothinkofsomesortofcodeword.”
Ipausefromshovingsocksintomyovernightbag.“Codeword?”
“Right.”Wandanodsthoughtfullyfrommycouch/bed(allhailthefuton).“Incasehewon’tletyouspeakfreely.”
“HowmanyLifetimemovieshaveyoubeenwatching?”
“Youwon’tthinkit’sveryfunnywhenhe’sfeedingyoubabyfoodandmakingyouplaydress-up.”
Ilaughatthat.“Youknowthat’sactuallyakink,right?”
“You’rekidding.”
Hershockedexpressionmakesmelaughharder.“Peoplepaygoodmoneytofeedcutegirlsbabyfoodandplaydress-up.”
“Hotdamn.”Wandashakesherhead.“WherewasthatwhenIwasyounger?Couldhavesavedmealotofshiftsatthelibrary.”
“Youlovedworkingatthelibrary,”Iremindher.
“I’dhaveloveditahellofalotmoreifsomeonehadpaidmetogetnakedinit.”
“Inanotherlife,”Ichuckle,“youwouldhaveruledtheentirecamgirlscene.”
“Anddon’tyouforgetit,”shetuts.
EvenasIthrowthelastoftheclothesfrommyclosetintoabag,Ifeelhereyeswatchingmefromacrosstheroom.IwaituntilthesackisfullandtiedoffbeforeIgivehermyattention.“What?”
“Ijustwantyoutobecareful,”shesaysalittlemoregently.“Therearealotofweirdosoutthere.”
“I’mgoingtobefine,”Iassureher,pretendingthatherconcerndoesn’tmakemewanttosmile.Shemaybecantankerousninetypercentofthetime,butWandacaresaboutmemorethanmyownmothereverbotheredto.“Ipromise.It’sgoodmoney,andhewasincrediblynice.IscopedhisFacebook,too,andhehasadaughter.”Aprettyonetoo.Seriously,thegenesinthisfamily.“Besides,ifthevibeisbad,Icanleave,okay?”
“Youkidsandyourvibes,”shegrumbles.“WhenIwasyourage,wedidn’thavevibes,wehadinstinct.”
“Yourealizeit’spracticallythesamething,right?Also,youcouldstopgripingandhelpmepacksomething.”
Wandacrossesherarms.“Gottarestmyback.Gotabingomatchtonight.”
Idon’taskforelaboration,notwantingtoknowifsheneedstorestforbingoorforwhoevershewillinevitablybringhomeafter.SheandFredWythersgotintoafightlastweek,soIimaginehe’sontheouts.
“Aren’tyoutheonealwayssayingthatyou’reold,notdead?”Shegivesmethefinger,andIlaugh.“Hey,didyouknowthemiddlefingeristhefastestgrowingnail?”
“Oh,tohellwithyourdamnSnapplefacts.”
IbitebackmysmileasIgivemyattentionbacktopacking.Whenthetinyspaceispackedawayinvariousboxesandbags,Inodappreciativelyatajobwelldone,thinkingthattheplacelooksbiggersomehowwhenit’smostlyemptylikethis.Thefurniturestays,seeingasitwasherewhenIgothere.Plus,Iwon’tneeditsinceIgetmyownfurnishedroomatAiden’splace.
There’sonlyatinyflapofbutterflywingsinmystomachwhenIamremindedthatIwillbeunderthesameroofasAidenReid.
“Ithinkthatjustaboutdoesit,”ItellWanda.
“Iguessso.”Wandaeyesthescatteredbagsonthefloor.“Ijustknowthey’regoingtoletaweirdocomeinhereafteryou.”
“Maybeitwillbeyoursoulmate.”
Wandasnorts.“Don’tneedoneofthose.”
Youhavetoadmireherindependence,that’sforsure.
Wandahasneversettleddowninherlonglife,asfarasIknow,alwaysbouncingfromonemantothenext.Shemakesitseemfun,don’tgetmewrong,butsurelyithastobelonelysometimes.Iliketothinkthatthetwoofusneededeachotherequallyasmuchwhenwestumbledintoeachother’slives.Shebecameanunlikelysurrogatemomandbestfriendallrolledintoone,adoptingmeintoherlifeandtreatingmelikethekidsheneverhad.I’mnotentirelysurethatIknewwhatrealaffectionlookedlikebeforeImether.
“Andyou’resurethisisagoodidea?Youcouldstilldotheboobycams.”
Iconsiderthat,knowingthatWandalikestolivevicariouslythroughmyOnlyFansendeavors(seriously,thiswomanmissedhertruecalling),anditwouldbeeasymoneyifIcouldbuildafollowingagain,butIcan’tbringmyselfto.Notafterwhathappened.
“I’msure.”Inod,mostlyformyself.“Youcantellmeyou’regoingtomissme,youknow.”
“Missyou?”Shesnortsasshepatsmeontheshoulder.“Youdon’tcomevisit,I’llcomelookingforyourass.”
Ipullherintoahug,breathinginthefamiliarscentofherWhiteDiamondsperfumeandabitoftalcumpowderunderneaththatI’vealwaysfoundstrangelycomforting.“It’sgoingtobegreat.You’llsee.”
Wandastilllooksunconvincedwhenshepullsaway,andasIstarttopileupwhat’sleftofmythingsinpreparationforthemovingservicethatwillbringtherestofmythingstomorrow,IdomybesttoseemasconfidentaboutthewholethingasI’mpretendingtobe.
—
Aiden’stownhouseislocatedinagatedcommunity,aquietresidentialareaofthree-storyhomesliningthestreet.Aiden’sinparticularhasacutelittleyard,linedwithablockwallandclosedoffwithanirongate.MyoldToyotaparkedinfrontlooksoutofplaceamidtherowsandrowsofshiny-lookingtownhousesbuttobefair,sodoI.IcheckthehousenumberonemoretimeinmyemailsasIunlatchthegate,feelingonlyalittlenervousasIapproachthefrontdoor.
IpullthestrapofmyovernightbagtighteragainstmyshoulderwhenIfinallysummonthecouragetoringthedoorbell,havingpackedonlytheessentialstogetmethroughthenightuntileverythingelsegetsheretomorrow.Suddenlyit’shittingmethatIwillbelivingwithvirtualstrangers,andwhatifAidenissomekindofweirdo?
God.
ItrytofishmyphoneoutofmypockettoletWandaknowI’vemadeit,managingtopullithalfwayoutbeforemybagslipsfrommyshoulderandontotheground,theonlyhalf-zippedopeningallowingforsomeofmystufftospilloutontotheporch.Idroptomykneestostartscoopingthescattereditemsbackin,thinkingthatthisisthelastthingIneed,formynewbosstofindmepickingupmyunderwearoutsidehisfrontdoor.
“Fuck,fuck,fuck.”
Andbecausetheuniverseisaficklebitch,thisisexactlyhowAidenReidfindsme.Inthemiddleofapersonalfiasco,cursingonhisporchandholdingmyunderwear.Butthenagain,judgingbythesplotchesofflourcoveringhisblack(fitted,it’sveryfitted)T-shirtandmatchingblackapronandevenhigheronhischeeks,nottomentionthesticky…somethingthatisdrippingdownthefrontofhispants(lessfitted,butnolessdistracting),Ithinkmaybethistimewe’reeven.
“Areyou”—myeyestakeinhisdisheveledappearance—“okay?”
Hiseyesflickfrommystill-crouchedformtotheheart-patterned,neon-greenunderwearinmyhandtomyface.“Areyouokay?”
“Oh.”ThebackofmyneckheatsasIhastilyshovemyunderwearbackintomybag,pullingthestrapovermyshoulderasIstandbackup.“I’mfine.Justhadanaccident.”I’mactivelychoosingnottothinkabouthowAidenjustsawmyunderwear,pointingatthegooponhispants.“Itlookslikeyouhadonetoo.”
Aidenmakesahelplessface,andthequietsighthatescapeshimmakesmystomachdosomethingfunny.
“Yeah.”Helooksdownatthemessonhisshirtbeforegivingmeasheepishgrin.“Doyou…”Hebiteshislip.Imustn’tdwellonthis.“Doyouhappentoknowanythingaboutpancakes?”
“Pancakes?”
Aidenjerkshisheadinanod,gesturingtothestaircasebehindhim.“Comeonup.”
Ifollowhimoutoftheentrywayandupthestairstothesecondlevel,thetopofthestairsspillingoutintowhatseemstobethemainlivingareaandkitchen.Irecognizealittlegirlatthecounterinthekitchenasweapproach,herhairthesameshadeasAiden’sandhermouthpressedintoafullpout.ShelooksterserthanshedidonAiden’sFacebook.IalsonoticethatthemessonAiden’sshirtandpantsextendstothekitchenfloorandhalfofthecountertop.
“We,ah…wantedtodosomethingniceforyou,”Aidentellsme.“Foryourfirstdayhere.”
“Dadwantedto,”thelittlegirlgrousesfromherplaceatthecounter,justloudenoughformetocatchit.
Aidenshootsherasternlook.Itlooksgoodonhim.Imustn’tdwellonthiseither.“Wethoughtyoumightlikepancakes,but,ah…Thisisembarrassing.”
“Youseemtobehavingsometrouble,”Ipointoutwithamusement.“I’veneverseensuchamessoverpancakes.”
Aidenlooksathisfeetlikeachildwho’sbrokenhismother’svaseandisreluctanttotellher.“Idroppedthebowlofbatter.It’sadisasterinhere.”
“Ican”—Iletmyeyessweepdownthefrontofhimagain,forpurelyinvestigativepurposes,ofcourse—“seethat.”
“I’m…notverygoodatmakingpancakes,”headmits,almostlikeitpainshim.
Icockmyhead.“Aren’tyouachef?”
“Therearenopancakesonmymenu.”Hismouthdoessomethingthatisdangerouslyclosetoapout,anditshouldn’tworkforamanhissize,butitweirdlydoes.“Sophiesaysshedoesn’tlikethem,butI’mprettysureshejustdoesn’tlikemine,soit’spersonalnow.Iwastryinganewrecipe,but…”Hegesturestothemess.“Obviously,itdidn’tturnoutthewayIhoped.”
Iflashhimagrin,realizinghereallydoesneedsomehelp.“Whew,boy.”
IdropmybagbythestairsasItakeinthespace.Thekitchenissleekandmodernwithblackcabinetsandagraymarblecountertop—everythingyoumightexpectfromanupscalehouseinthispartoftown.Thetilesareasimilarshadeofgray,maybelighter,goingallthewaytotheedgeoftheopenlivingroomjustbeyondwhereitblendsintosoft-lookinggraycarpetthatrestsunderblackleatherfurniture.
I’mgatheringAidenisn’tverybigoncolorhere.
“Thisisaniceplace,”Itellhim.“Ilikewhatyou’vedonewiththe,ah…colorscheme.”
IpeekbacktofindAidenfrowning.“I…likeblack.”
“Iwouldhaveabsolutelyneverguessed,”Itease.Itdawnsonmethathe’sstillcoveredingoo.“Right.Pancakes.”Iscanthekitchen,searching.“Doyouhaveanotherapron?”
Aidenrushestoatall,slimcabinetjustbesidetheblackstainlesssteelfridgetopullouta(surprise)blackapron.Ithrowitovermyhead,reachingbehindmetotiethestringsasIflashasmiletowardthegirl,whoisstillsilentlysizingmeupatthecounter.
“YoumustbeSophie,”Itry.“I’mCassie.”
“You’remynewnanny,”shesayswithonlyahintofbitterness.
“Iam.Iheardyou’vehadafew.”
“Onlyfour,”shemutters.
“Howoldareyou,Sophie?”
“Nine.”
“Wow.You’repracticallygrownup.Idoubtyouevenneedananny.”
“That’swhatIsaid,”shehuffs.“Icantakecareofmyself.”
“Ofcourse.”Inodseriouslybeforeleaninginclosertolowermyvoice.“Betweenyouandme…Ijustneededsomecompany.Idon’thavemanyfriends.Practicallyhadtobegyourdadtogivemethejob,youknow?”
Sophielookssuspicious,herlipspressedtogetherforagoodnumberofmomentsbeforeshefinallycastshereyesdowntothecountertop.“Idon’thavealotoffriendseither.”
“Well…wecouldbefriends.Maybe?Whatdoyouthink?”
Sophielooksmeupanddown,seemingtoconsider.“You’repretty,”shesaysfinally.
“Notasprettyasyou,”Igush.“Lookatthosefreckles!”
Sophienarrowshereyes.“Frecklesaren’tpretty.”
“You’reright,”IsighasIpropmyfistsonmyhips.“They’regorgeous.”
Sophierollshereyes,butthere’sabitofasmileathermouthasshedoesit.Inoticeshedoesn’thavethesameconditionasherdad,buthereyesarethesamesoftgreenofhisrighteye,complementingtheprettyshadeofherhair.She’sadorablenow,butIcanalreadytellshe’sgoingtobearealknockoutwhenshegetsolder.Seriously,thegenes
“Right,”Isayagain.“Solet’scleanupyourfirstattempt,shallwe?”
Aidenstilllooksutterlydumbfounded,likehestillcan’tbelievehecouldhavemessedupsuchauniversallyknownthingathislevelofculinaryprowess,butsilentlytrudgestothatsameslimcabinettopulloutabroomandawetmop.
“Sorry,”hetellsme.“Wereallydidwanttotryanddosomethingnice.”
Ishrug,pullingtheelasticfrommywristandreachingtotieupmyhair.“It’sfine.SophieandIhavegotthis,right?”
“WhydoIhavetohelp?”
“IneedacapableassistantifI’mgoingtomakepancakes,”Isayseriously.“Youlookliketheperfectgirlforthejob.”
Shestilldoesn’tlooklikeshetrustsmeverymuch,butherdesireforpancakesmustexceedherwarinessofme,andshetentativelyhopsfromthebarstooltocautiouslycrossthekitchentostandbesideme.“Iguessso.”
Sheabsolutelydoesn’tsmile.
Ilikeheralready.
—
Thesecondattemptatpancakesgoesmuchsmootherthanthefirst,themessclearedawayandoneverylargechef(butnotpancakemaker)andhislittleminimehummingaroundsyrupandcake.
“Thesearesogood,”Sophiegushes.“Dadnevergetsthemright.They’realwaystoomushy.”
“Oh,soyoudolikethem,”Aidensnorts.Helooksdownatthepancakeslikethey’veoffendedhim.“Ishouldbuyanactualmixer.”
Ismilearoundmyfork.“Howdoyounotownamixer?”
“Idon’tbakealot.”
“Clearly,”Isaywithagrin.“Youknowtheyhaveaboxmix.”
“Aboxmixgoesagainsteveryfiberofmybeing,”Aidenscoffs.
Ikeepmyexpressionserious,pointingtothesoakingdishesinhissinkwithmyfork.“Yes.Clearlythisisbetter.”
“Cassiehastomakeallthepancakesfromnowon,”Sophiesaysmatter-of-factly.
Aidensharesagratefullookwithme,andittakesalotofeffortonmypartnottoletmygazelingerontheclashingbrightnessofhiseyes.
“Ithinkforthesafetyofyourdad’skitchen,that’sbest,”Ideadpan.
Aidenstiflesalaugh.“Everyone’sacritic.”
Whentheplatesareemptyandtheforksareclatteringagainstthem,Sophiepatsherbellywithasatisfiedsound,acontentlittlesmileonherface.“You’reallright,Iguess,”shetellsme,quicklymaskinghersmileintoamoresternexpression.“Butyoucan’tcomeintomyroom.”
“Iwouldn’tdreamofit,”Iassureher.“Youcancomeintomine,though,ifyouwant.Ihaveboardgamescomingwithmystufftomorrow.”IlookbackoveratAiden.“Whereismyroom,bytheway?”
“Oh.Yeah.Ofcourse.”Heslidesfromthebarstool,pullinghisapronoverhisheadasthemusclesinhisbicepsrollandflexagainstthefittedcottonofhissleeves.It’snotsomethingI’veeverfoundmyselfnoticingonaman,bicepsagainstsleeves.“It’sbackdownstairs.Icanshowyou…?”
“Awesome.”Ihopdownfrommyownstool,grabbingthebagIleftbythestairsandslingingitovermyshoulder.“Leadtheway.”
“Sothewholefirstfloorwillbeyours,”Aidentellsmewhenwe’renearthebottomlanding.“Thebedroomhasanattachedbath,andthere’saTVinthere,soyoushouldhaveeverythingyouneed,butyoucanjustaskifthere’ssomethingelseIneedtogetyou.”
AidengesturestothedoorrightofftheentrywaysothatIcanopenit,andbeyondisaroomnearlybiggerthanmyentireapartment.Thequeen-sizedfour-posteriscoveredwiththick,gray(shocker)bedding;thechestofdrawersandendtablesareasleekblackthatmatchestherestofthehousedecor.Igapearoundtheroominawe,tryingtothinkbacktoatimewhenI’vesleptinabedthisnice.Ifever.
“Ifyouwanttochangesomething,”Aidensaysquietlybehindme,“wecan—”
“It’sperfect.Seriously,thisisnicerthanmywholeapartment.”
IhearAidensighinrelief.“Good.Iwantyoutobecomfortablehere.”
“Reallystruckoutinthenannydepartment,huh?”
“Youhavenoidea.”Aidenleansagainstthedoorframe.“She’sbeenthroughalot.Ithinkthat’swhysheactsoutsometimes.I’malwaystryingmybesttogethertoopenupandtalkaboutit,butshe’s…”Hebreathesinthroughhisnosejusttoblowitouthismouth,shakinghishead.“It’slikewespeakadifferentlanguage,sometimes.”
“Didsomething…”Idropmybagtothecarpet,reachingtoscratchatmyneckawkwardly.“IhopeI’mnotoverstepping,butIthoughtIshould…JustsoIdon’tsaysomethinginsensitivebyaccident,youknow.Sophie’smother…isshe…?”
Hedoesn’tanswerforamoment,chewingathislipasiftryingtodecidehowtobroachthesubject.Iknowtherehastobeastory,andIhateaskingonmyveryfirstday,butIhatethethoughtofaccidentallyputtingmyfootinmymouthatsomepointbecauseIdon’tknowevenmore.
“Shepassedaway,”Aidensaysfinally,halfwhispering.“Almostayearago.Stroke.”
“OhGod.”Ihadexpectedabaddivorceorsomething.Notthat.“That’sterrible.I’mreallysorryforyourloss.”
“Itwas…sudden.Noneofusexpectedit.Shewassoyoung,afterall.”Aidensighs,runninghisfingersthroughhishair.“Shewasgreat,”hetellsme.“Anamazingmom.ShewasalotbetteratthisthanIeverwas.I’mstillfiguringouthowtodothiswithouther.”
Isuddenlyfeelsomuchworseaboutallmylingeringthoughtsofhiscatcher’smitthands,voluntaryornot.“Ireallyamsorry,”Isaylamely.“Howlongwereyoumarried?”
Aiden’seyebrowsscrunchtogether.“What?Oh.No.Weweren’t.Weweren’teventogether.”Imustlookconfused.ThatmustbewhyAidenchoosestoclarify.“Sophiewas…ah,unexpected.RebeccaandImetatapartyduringoursenioryearincollegeandwereseeingeachothercasuallyforalittlewhile.WhenRebeccafoundoutshewaspregnant,weattemptedanactualrelationship,butitwasprettyclearearlyonthatitwasnevergoingtoworkoutbetweenus.Wedidourbesttoco-parentassmoothlyaswecouldthough.ForSophie’ssake.”
“Oh.”Ilookdownatmyshoes,stillfeelingawkward.“I’msureit’sbeenroughforSophie.”
“Ithas,”Aidenagrees.“Sorryfordumpingthisonyou.Ithoughtitmighthelpyouunderstandherbetter.Ifyouknew.”
“No,I’mgladyoutoldme,”Isayhonestly.“Thankyou.”
“Truthbetold,Icouldhavebeentheremoretheselastfewyears.WhenIwaspromotedtoexecutivechefeverythinggotsohectic,andI…Ididn’tmakethetimeIshouldhaveforher.I’mpayingforitnow.”
IfeelatwingeofsympathyforSophiethen,knowingexactlywhatit’sliketocomesecondtoaparent’scareer.Still.Aidenseemstobetryingnow,atleast.
“Imean…it’snevertoolate,though,right?”Itryforanencouragingsmile.“She’sstillsoyoung.You’llfigureitout.”
Aidengivesmeasimilarlysoftsmile.“Ihopeyou’reright.”
ThebigroomseemssmallernowthatI’mjuststandingtherelikeanidiot,smilingattheprettymaninmydoorway,andIfinallyhavetopulltheolddistractedlookaroundtheroom,pretendingtoadmirethepaintingof…oh.Isthatsmoke?Abstractsmoke?Ireallyhavetosneaksomecolorintothishouse.
“Okay.”Aidenmustsensemyawkwardenergy,sincehechoosesrightnowtopushawayfromthedoorframe.“Well.I’ll…letyouunpackthen.”
“Idon’thavemuch,”Iadmit.“Therestiscomingtomorrow.”
“Right.Well.Icanfinishshowingyouaroundwhenyou’redone.Thelivingareaisallonthesecondfloor.MineandSophie’sroomsareonthethird.”
“Cool,”Isay.
Whyisthatcool?WhydidIsaythatitwas?Dopeopleevensaycoolanymore?
“I’llleaveyoutoitthen,”Aidensays.
Idon’tbreatheuntilhe’soutofsight,cursingundermybreathatmyveryuncoolbehavior,actinglikeI’veneverseenahotguybefore.Butthenagain,Iactuallyhaven’teverlivedwithahotguybefore.Especiallynotonewhoattempts(andfails,butit’ssortofcute)atpancakesandworriesabouthowtoconnectwithhiskid.
It’sajob,Iremindmyself.It’sjustajob.
IbetAiden’sbeddingisblacktoo.
NotthatI’mthinkingaboutit.It’sthefirstgiftanyone’seversentme.
Thepackagingissleek,butit’swhat’sinsidethatreallygrabsmyattention.
ThetoyisbiggerthananythingI’veusedbefore,andIgulpjustpullingitoutofthebox.CanIeventakesomethingthisbig?Ipickupthenotethatcamewithit,astrangethrillcoursingthroughmeasIconsiderthefactthatonemanouttherewantstowatchmeusethis.Thathe’soutthereimaginingitrightnow.
Ican’twaittowatchyouusethis.—A
CHAPTER3Cassie
Ifinishputtingmystuffawayandheadbackupstairsafterthepancakedebacle,findingAidensittinginthelivingroomandreadinganewspaper,withSophienowheretobefound.Iassumeshe’supintheroomI’mnotallowedin.He’schangedhisshirttoacleanone(stillblack,butadifferentshadeofblack,ifthat’spossible,soIguesspointstohim),butIamnotcomplainingaboutthemonochromatictoneofhisgraysweatswiththewaytheyfithim.HishairislessstyledthanitwasthenightImethim,mussedandcurlingathistempleslikehesimplytoweleditdryaftershoweringoffallthebatterfromearlier.Itmakeshimlookevenyoungerthanhenormallydoes.
Helooksupfromthepaperwhenhenoticesmeawkwardlylingeringatthetopofthestairs,foldingthepagesandgivingmealittlesmile.“Allsettled?”
“Yeah.”Icrossmyarms,feelingstrange.TheideathatIactuallyliveherenowissortofcrashingdownonmeallatonce.“Theroomisgreat.”
“I’mglad.Makesuretotellmeifyouneedanything.Icantakecareofwhateveryouneed.”
Ohboy.
Inlieuofanswering,Imovetothearmchairacrossfromthecouchhe’ssittingon,pullingmylegsuptotuckthembeneathme.I’mactuallygratefulforhiscasualattire,makingmefeelbetteraboutmyleggingsandlongtee.Imean,Iknowhedidn’tmentionauniformoranything,butstill.
Butdamnifthosesweatpantsaren’tdistracting.
Inodtowardthepaperhe’sstillperusing.“Anythinginterestinginthere?”
“Notreally,”hesayswithashrug.“Imainlygetthemforthecrosswords.”
Whyisthatcute?
“Didyouknowthatsomeonegoodatcrosswordsiscalledacruciverbalist?”
Helowersthepapertocockaneyebrowatme.“Howonearthdoyouknowthat?”
“IreaditonaSnapplelid,”Isay.“It’swhereIgeteightypercentofmyknowledgefrom.”
“YoumustdrinkalotofSnapple.”
“Oh,tons.IbetIbleedpeachteaatthispoint.”
Aidensmiles,shakinghishead.“AnyotherinterestingfactsIshouldknow?”
“Humansareslightlytallerinthemorningthanatnight.”
Hisbrowwrinkles.“Thatcan’tbetrue.”
“Ittotallyis.”
“Idon’tknowaboutthat,”helaughs.
“Ibetyou’llmeasureyourselfnowtocheckthough.”
“Hmm.”Heconsidersthiswithaguiltyexpression.“IpleadtheFifth.”
He’sstillsmilingasheturnsanotherpage,andItapmyfingersagainstmythigh.“So…nocookingtonight?”
“I’llhavetogoinlater.Beforethedinnerservice.”Hecutshiseyesatme.“Iwantedtomakesuretobeherewhenyouarrivedthough.”
“Iappreciateit.”
There’sabitofanawkwardsilencethen.Theproductoftwonearstrangersnowcohabitating,I’msure.
“So…”IshiftabitinthechairsoIcanlooksomewhereotherthanAiden’sface,whichisalsoprettydistracting.“DowethinkSophiewillputdirtinmybedtonight,orwillsheletmegetafalsesenseofsecuritybeforeshegoesfullHomeAloneonme?”
Aidenlaughsagain,andI’mremindedofhowniceofasounditis.“Maybeyoucheckthetopsofthedoorsbeforeyouopenthem,justtobesafe.”
“AtleastIgetmyownbathroom,”Ipointout.“MaybeIcankeepabettereyeonmyshampoososhedoesn’tputNairinit.”
“Theworstshemightdoisleavehertowelsonthefloor,”Aidengrouses,alldad-like.“Youbuythegirlatowelrack,andshedropsitrightnexttoit.Don’tevengetmestartedonhershoesonthebedroomfloor.”
“Notowelsonmybathroomfloor,”Isayseriously.“Gotit.”
“Oh.”Heactuallylooksmildlyembarrassed.“No.It’syourroom.Don’tlistentome,I’mjust…”
“Neatfreak?”
“Iwouldn’tsaythat,”hemumbles.“Ilikethingsintheirplace.”
It’sweirdlycutethathe’stryingtopretendheisn’tatotalcontrolfreakwhenit’swrittenalloverhisface.
“Gotcha.”Ikeepmyexpressioneven.“Sothisisprobablyabadtimetotellyouaboutmycollectivenetworkofantfarmsthen?”Aidenlookshorrified,andIcan’thelpbutburstintolaughter.“Kidding.”
“Hilarious.”
Moresilence.Ihatesilence.Italwaysmakesmefeelanxious.Idecidetochangethesubject.“ItmustbeahugeadjustmentforSophie.Thisyear.”
“It’sbeentoughforsure.”Helaysthepaperdownbesidehimonthecouch.“Theywereclose.Imean,I’msureyouknowwhatit’slike,thewholemother-daughterbondingthing.”
Itrytosmile,butit’sforced.“Notreally.”
“Oh.Shit.I’msorry.Didshe…?”
“She’salive,don’tworry.”Ilaughbitterly.“Myparentsweren’teverthenurturingtype.Ihaven’tspokentothemin…alongtime.”
“I’msorry,”hesaysagain.“That’sterrible.”
“Itiswhatitis.Iguessyoucan’tfaultthemforbeingterribleparentswhentheyneverwantedtobeparentsinthefirstplace.”
“Imean,youcan,”heargues.“Asamostlysubparparentmyself,I’mtheexpertonthesubject.”
Igrin.“Idon’tthinkyou’reasubparparent.Imean.You’rehere.You’relookingoutforher.That’salreadyhalfthebattle.”
“Right.”Aiden’seyessuddenlygainafarawaylook.“I’mtrying.”
“That’sallakidwants,tobehonest.Theyjustwantyoutotryyourbest.”
Aiden’smouthdoesthisthing,notquiteasmilebutsortof,andhiseyesflicktomeetmine,thesoftgreenandbrownhardtolookawayfrom.“Iappreciatethat.”
“So,weshouldgooverwhatyouneedfrommealittlemore,”Isay,changingthesubjectagain.
Aiden’seyebrowsraise.“WhatIneedfromyou?”
Ohshit.Didthatsoundweird?Itdidn’tsoundweirdinmyhead.“Iknowthebasicshere,andyougavemeyourscheduleandSophie’sallergies,butdoesshehaveanyafter-schoolclubs?AnysoccerpracticesIneedtoknowabout?Whataboutanapprovedlistofemergencynumbersofrelativesorsomethinglikethat?Idon’twanttoletinaweirdopretendingtobeheruncleorsomething.”
“Oh.”AidenwatchesasIuntuckmylegs,followingthewayIletmyfeetfalltothefloor,hisgazethoughtful.“Shehasn’tjoinedanyclubsyet.It’sanewschoolyear,afterall,andshe’sstillsettling.NoweirdunclesthatIknowof.Myparentsliveacrosscountry,soweonlyreallyseethemaroundholidays.Rebeccahasasister,Iris,soshemightbearoundfromtimetotimetoseeSophie.Icanleaveyouthenumbertotherestaurant,andofcourseweshouldexchangenumbers.”
“Numbers?”
“It’snotreallypracticaltokeepemailingeachotherforever,”hepointsout.“Sincewe’relivingtogetherandall.”
Hejusthadtoremindme.
I’mlivingwiththisgorgeousman.Notthatthereisanyreasontobesoflusteredbythereminder,sinceit’sallcontractual.It’snotlikeitmatters,anyway.It’scompletelyirrelevanthowniceAidenistolookat,sinceI’mthenanny,andheisabsolutely,positivelyoff-limits.Imightalmostlaughatthisentirelineofthought;Aidenissuccessfulandgood-lookingandwayoutofmyleague.He’sprobablybringinghomedatesontheregular.
OhGod.Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.Isincerelyhopeit’snotsomethingIhavetofindoutanytimesoon.
“Right,”Imanage.“Numbers.Givemeyourphone,andI’llsendmyselfatext.”
Aidenliftshishipsfromthecouchtodiginhispocketforhiscellphone,andIdon’tthinkthatIneedtoelaborateonwhythismoveonahotguyingraysweatshasmeavertingmyeyes.Hehandsmehisphone,andIimmediatelynoticehiswallpaperofhimandasmilingSophieatwhatlookstobeapark.Thewindisrufflingtheirhair,andSophie’ssmileiswideandbrightandslightlysnaggletoothedhere,oneofherincisorsstillgrowingin.
“Thisisanicepicture,”InoteasIpulluphistexts.
“Itwasagoodday.”Aidensmilesfondly.“Itwasn’tverylongafter,um…afterRebecca.”
“Sorry,”Isay,afraidI’vetouchedonasorespot.“Ididn’tmeanto—”
“No,no.Seriously.It’sfine.ItwasthefirsttimeIcanrememberSophiesmilinglikethat.Afterithappened.Iliketorememberit.”
“Igetit,”Ianswerquietly.“It’sagreatphoto.”
“Thankyou.”
Ishootmyselfatext,feelingmyphonevibrateinmypocket,thenIhandAiden’sbacktohim.“Alldone.I’llbesuretotextyouifIburnthehousedown.”
“Iappreciatethat,”Aidenlaughs.
Ishrug.“Ifigureit’scommoncourtesy.”
“Ofcourse.”
Heopenshismouthtosaymoreasfootstepscomethuddingdownthestairs,aflashofchestnuthairinmyperipheralasSophielandsatthebottom.
“Dad,thebatteriesinmyremotearelow,”shehuffs.“Dowehaveanymore?”
Aidencloseshismouth,whateverhe’dbeenabouttosaydyingonhistongueashestandsfromthecouchtowalktowardthekitchen.“They’reinthedrawerbythesink,”hetellsher.“Letmegetthemforyou.”
IturnmyheadtonoticeSophieeyeingme.“Areyougoingtomakelunch?”
“Thatdepends,”Isaysmoothly.“Areyougoingtohelpme?”
“Isn’tityourjobtofeedme?”
Ipressmylipstogether,noddingasifI’mconsidering.“Itmightbe.ButyouknowIholdallthepowerwhenitcomestodecidingifyou’regettingborschtorpizza,right?”
“Whatisborscht?”
“It’sbeetsoup,essentially,”Aidentossesoverhisshoulder,stillsearchingforbatteries.“It’sverygood.Kindofsourthough.It’sgoodwithsmetana.”
“Ew.Shecan’tfeedmethat,canshe?”
Aidenturnstoleanagainstthecounter,holdingthebatterieshe’sfoundandshruggingashegivesSophieanalooflook.“She’sthebosswhenI’mnothere.”
Sophieturnstonarrowhereyes,frowningatmeasIgivehermysweetestgrin.“Fine,”sherelents.“I’llhelp.Butnobeets.”
Shetakesthebatteriesherdadisofferingasshetrudgesbackupthestairs,andAidensmilesatmefromthekitchen,lookingamused.“You’regoingtogiveherarunforhermoney,aren’tyou?”
“That’stheplan,”Iassurehim.“Untilyouguysgetridofme.”
Aiden’ssmilehitcheswider.“Youmightbetheonlypersoninthiscitywhohasarealshotathandlingmydaughter,”hesays.“Idon’tthinkIcanletyouleave,sorry.”
Iknowhe’sjoking,butitstilldoessomethingfunnytomyinsides.
“So,”Isay,pushingoutofthearmchairandclappingmyhandstogetherasIraisemyvoicefordramaticeffect.“Wheredoyoukeepthebeetsinthisplace?”
“Nobeets!”Sophie’svoicecallsfromupthestairs.
Aidencovershismouthwithhishandtohidehislaugh.
—
TherestofmystuffcomesSundayafternoonafterAidenhasalreadyleftforwork,andIspendsometimeputtingitaway,givingtheenigmaticlittlegirlwhoisdeterminednottogettooclosetomeamomenttobreathebeforeIgoupstairsandstarttryingtomakeherlikeme.Myattemptssofarhavebeenmetwithalukewarmreceptionatbest.
“Ithinkshemighthateme,”ItellWanda,usingmyshouldertoholdthephonetomyearasIhangupmyjeans.“ButI’mprettysureit’smoreaboutprinciplethanmeasaperson,soI’mnottakingitpersonally.”
“It’sallthosepreteenhormones,”Wandamuses.
Iwrinklemynose.“She’sonlynine.”
“Well,maybeit’sapersonalchoicetobedifficultthen,Idon’tknow.”
“I’mstillastranger,”Ilaugh.“Ithinkwecancuthersomeslack.Besides,I’mtotallygoingtowinherover.Justwait.”
“I’llbet,”Wandachuckles.“Howisthehouse?Isthereabasement?Hasheaskedyoutowearadiaperyet?”
“Thehouseisamazing.Myroommightbebiggerthanmyentireapartment.Noevidenceofabasementthough.Also,it’smoreofapaddedunderwearsituation,andheaskednicely,so…”
“Oneofthesedaysyou’regoingtogivemeaheartattackwithyournonsense,andwho’llbelaughingthen?”
“Well,notyou,presumably.”
“Oh,haha.Sowhatdoyouthinkofthefamily?”
“Sophieiscuteasabutton.Stubbornashellthough.Icantellshe’sgoingtobeatoughnuttocrack.”
“Andthedad?”
“Aidenis…”Istillwithmyhandonahanger,consideringhowbesttodescribehim.“He’sreallynice.YoucantellhelovesSophie,andheseemsdeterminedtomakesureI’mcomfortablehere.Soundslikethey’vehadsomebadluckinthenannydepartmentlately.”
“They’reprobablyallinthebasement.”
“Well,atleastI’llhavecompanywhenhethrowsmedownthere.”
“Youlaughnow,butdon’tcomecryingtomewhenhebringsoutthezipties.”
Wowthatshouldn’tsoundhalfwayappealing.Itellmyselfit’sanaturalreactiontosomeonewholookslikehedoes,andthatitwillgetbetterthemoreIgetusedtohim.Surely.
Idefinitelycan’ttellWandathatAidenishot.She’llbecompletelyinsufferableaboutit,I’msure.
“They’reperfectlynicepeople,andthisisaperfectlynicehouse,andIamperfectlysafe.Ipromise.”
“Yeah,well.Youmakesureyoukeepthattrackerthinggoingonyourphone.”
“We’resharinglocations.Idon’thavetoturniton.”
“Well,aslongasIcanfindyouwhenhethrowsyouinthebasement.”
“Yes,Iloveyoutoo.”
“Yeah,yeah.”
“Howwasbingo?”
“Iwonasucculent.”
“Butyouhaveablackthumb.”
Shescoffs.“It’sacactus!Youdon’tevenhavetodoanythingwithit.”
“No,youdefinitelyhavetowaterit.”
“No,youdon’t.Theymaketheirownwater.”
Ishakemyhead,thinkingaboutthatpoorplantthatisabsolutelygoingtodie.
“Justthrowsomewateroniteveryonceinawhile,”Iinsist.“Humorme.”
“Oh,whatever.”
“I’dbetterletyougo,”Itellher.“I’mdoneunpacking,soit’stimetogoandtrytotamethecutelittlebeast.”
“Thetrickistonotshowanyfear.”
Ismileintothereceiver.“Noted.”
“Callmetomorrow.”
“Iwill,Iwill.”
WesayourgoodbyesbeforeIstowmyphoneinmypocket,takingonelastglancearoundtheroomandnoddinginsatisfaction.Istillcan’tgetoverhowbigitis.Icouldpracticallyopenadancestudiooneithersideofthebed.IfigureI’veaffordedSophieaboutasmuchspaceasIcanmanageatthispoint,andIgivemyselfapeptalkbeforeIleavemybedroominanattempttocoaxheroutofherroom.
It’smyfirsttimegoingupstairs,sincelastnightsheclaimedshehadhomeworkandsequesteredherselfinherroom.Iknockonherbedroomdoor,carefulnottostepinsideevenaftersheanswers,peekingmyheadaroundthedoorinstead.
“Hey.Morehomework?”
ShepausesherSwitchtofrownupatme.“Ifinishedit.”
“Oh,that’sgood.”
“Didyouneedsomething?”
Iknowshe’stryingtobeabrat,butshe’ssocuteitstillsortofmakesmewanttosmile.“Oh,nothingmuch.IhavethishugebowlofpopcorndownstairsandallthreeShrekmoviesonBlu-ray.”
Hernosewrinkles.“What’sShrek?”
“You’veneverseenShrek?”
“No.”
“Sophie.It’saculturalphenomenon.Anepiclovestory.Acomicmasterpiece.Ican’tingoodconscienceallowyoutocontinuethroughlifewithouthavingseenit.”
“Itsoundsweird.”
Ipushherdooropenatadwider,leaningagainsttheframe.“Thereareprincessesinit.”
“I’mtoooldforprincesses,”shesaysstoically.
“Well,whenwe’redonewecanvisittheretirementhome.”
Herlipspurse.“You’renotgonnaleavemealone,areyou.”
“Notachance,doll.”Ibeam.
Shelooksannoyedtheentirewalkdownthestairs,andthenbegrudging,whenshesettlesontothecouchinthelivingroom,butInoticethatshedoesn’thesitatetograbafistfulofpopcorn,evenifshemunchesonitwithalittlemoreaggressionthanneeded.
“WhyisitcalledShrek?”
IpushplayastheDreamWorkslogoglidesacrossthescreen.“Becausethat’shisname.”
“That’saweirdname.”
“Well,he’sanogre.So.”
“Ew.Ithoughtyousaidthiswasaboutprincesses?”
“No,Isaidithadprincesses.”
Shemakesafaceastheopeningscenestarts.“Whatisthisweirdsong?”
“OhmyGod,Sophie.IwillnotletyousitthereandslanderSmashMouth.”
“Isthatoldpeople’smusic?”
Ipullmypopcornbowlawayfromherextendedhand.“Ma’am,doyouwanttoloseyourpopcornprivileges?”
“Fine,”shehuffs.“Iguessit’sokay.”
HerbarrageofquestionscontinuesupuntilDonkey’sproclamationsaboutstayinguplateandswappingstories,finallylaughingwhenShrekkickshimoutofthehouseandmakeshimpout.Igiveheralook,andsheimmediatelytriestomaskherglee.“Iguessit’skindoffunny.”
“JustwaituntilyoumeetLordFarquaad,”Isay.
Shelookslikeshe’dratherpulloutherhairthanadmitshe’senjoyingthemovie,andInoticehereyeingourdwindlingpopcorn.
Igrabthebowl.“Wantmetomakesomemore?We’vegotallnight.Wecantotallyhaveamarathon.”
IcanseethewheelsturninginherheadashereyesdartfromthepopcornbowltotheTVscreen,herobviousdesiretokeepwatchingwarringwithherdeterminationtoremaindisinterestedinthe“enemy”thatishernewnanny.
“Iguessthatsoundscool,”shefinallyconcedes.
IdoasilentvictorydancebehindherbackasIgotothekitchenformorepopcorn.
—
Idon’tknowwhenIfellasleep;Sophiepassedoutsometimeafterdinnerneartheendofthesecondmovie,andIdistinctlyrememberstartingthethird,butwhenI’mawokentothefeelofawarmhandonmyshoulderandawarmermassatmyside,myeyesblinkopentomostlydarkness.Sophiehaswormedherwayagainstmeasshesighssoftlywithsleep,andwhenmyeyesadjusttothedarknessoftheroomlitonlybythesoftglowofthemenuscreenofthethirdShrekmovie,IseeafamiliarfaceloomingovermeasAiden’shandgentlyrousesmeawake.
“Sorry,”hesaysquietly.“Didn’tthinkyou’dwannaspendallnightouthere.”
Isitupstraighter,carefulnottodisturbSophie.“Whattimeisit?”
“Justafternine,”hetellsme.“Iguessyouguysdidn’tfinishyourmovie?”
Istifleayawn.“Ihavebeengivingyourdaughteranimportanteducationonfilmclassics.”
“Clearly,”AidenlaughsasheeyesthemenuscreenstillplayingontheTV.
“Howwaswork?”
“Asurprisinglyslownight,”hesays,comingaroundtheothersideofSophie’ssleepingformtositbesideher.“It’snotoftenIgethomethisearly.”HereachestobrushSophie’shairawayfromherforehead,smiling.“Seemslikeshe’swarmeduptoyoualittlebit.”
“Don’tbefooled,”Itellhimquietly.“It’sliketamingaferalcat.Whenshewakesupagain,she’llbehercutelittlehissingself.”
“Iappreciateyourvalianteffort.”Aiden’seyesmecuriously.“Areyouthinkingofdisappearinginthemiddleofthenightyet?”
“Oh,mygo-bagiscurrentlyhiddenunderthestairs,”Isayseriously.“I’mwaitingforanopening.”
Evenwhenhelooksexhausted,hissmilemakesmyheartstutter.“IguessIshouldgetbetterlocks.”
“HaveItoldyouyetaboutmyfriend’sbasementtheory?”
Hegrimaces.“DoIwanttoknow?”
“Thatdepends.Wheredoyoustandonkidnappingjokes?”
“IthinkthisisagoodtimetomakeitclearthatIdon’tactuallyhaveabasement.”
“Myfriendwouldsaythat’swhatyouwantmetothink,”Ianswergrimly.
Hisansweringlaughquicklymorphsintoayawn,andhereachestorubhiseyes.“I’mgoingtopassoutmid-conversationifI’mnotcareful.”
“Oh,right.Letme—”
IthrowtheblanketI’dgrabbedfromthebackofthearmchairfrommyshoulderswiththeintentionofuntanglingmyselffromSophie,soAidencanputhertobed,onlynoticingafterit’sgonethatthenecklineofmyoversizedT-shirthasslippedovermyshouldertobareagoodbitofskinandbrastrapand—judgingbythecoolair—evenabitofcleavage.Great.AidencoughsasheavertshiseyeswhileIadjustit,andI’mgratefulforthedarknessoftheroomasIpulleverythingbackintoplace.
“Sorry,”Imutter.
Aidensneaksapeektoseeifit’ssafe,shakinghishead.“It’sfine.Ishouldgethertobed.Schooltomorrowandall.”
“Right.Sorry.Ididn’tmeantofallasleep.Shewasgettingintothemovies.”
“It’sfine,”heassuresme.“I’mhappyyougotheroutofherroom.”
“Thanksforwakingmeup,”Itellhim,rubbingmyneck.“I’dhavebeensoreinthemorningifIsleptouthereallnight.”
“Yeah,”heshootsback,gentlyscoopinguphissleepingdaughter.“Ifigureditwouldbebettertoputyoutobed.”
Hestillswhenhe’sstandingagainwithSophieinhisarms,lookingsurprisedathimself.“Imean…Imeantsendyoutobed.”
“Right,”Ianswerdryly,myfaceflushingslightly.“Yeah.Iknowwhatyoumeant.”
“Sorry,I’mtired.”
“Ofcourse.”Irubmyarmawkwardly.“I’msure.”
Helingersthereforamoment,Sophiestilltuckedawayinhisarms,lookingatmelikeheisn’tsurewhattosaynow.Idecidetosaveusboth.
“Anyway…”Iputonasmile.“Seeyouinthemorning?”
“Sure.Goodnight,Cassie.”
Now,Aidenhassaidmynamebefore,duringtheinterview,ifnothingelse,butsomethingabouthearingitinadarkroom,withonlythesoftlightofthetelevisiontouchinghisblackslacksandhisblackT-shirtthathemustwearunderhischefcoat,feelsdifferentsomehow.ItgivesmeaweirdsenseofdéjàvuthatIcan’texplain.LikeI’vehearditbefore.Imustbereallytired.
“Goodnight,Aiden,”Isaybacksoftly,notsurewheremyvoicewent.
Thankfully,asdarkasitis,Iknowhewon’tseetheblushcreepingupmyneckasImovequicklyfromthedentowardthestairs,hearinghisquietfootstepsshufflingintheotherdirectionashecarriesSophietothenextfloor.IpeekbehindmetocatchAiden’sbackashegoesbeforeIheaddowntomyroom,catchingsightofhimleaningtopressakisstoSophie’ssleepingforeheadandfeelingsomethingtugatmyheartforreasonsIcan’texplain.
Hereallyistrying,Ithink.
Ismileallthewaydownthestairs.Chatwith@lovecici
Iwaswonderingifyoudidprivateshows.
Sometimes.I’mstillkindofnewatit.
Howmuch?
It’s$100foratwenty-minuteshow.
Yousent@lovecici
a$100tip
Iwantone,please.
CHAPTER4Aiden
Sophie!”Icallupthestairsforthesecondtime.“We’regoingtobelate!”Ipullmycellphonebacktomyearandcontinuemypacingonthefirstfloor.“Sorry.Tellmewhathappened.”
IhearMarco,mysous-chef,sighontheotherendoftheline.“Alexforgottoputthescallopsinthefridgelastnightafterprep.”
“What?”
“Yeah.They’reruined.”
“You’vegottobefuckingkiddingme.”
“Nope.”Icanhearhimrummagingaroundinthekitchenbackattherestaurant.“AndasfarasIcantell,thatwasourentiresupplyfromthisweek’sdelivery.”
“Whatthefuck.”
“Iknow.We’reoutuntiltheydeliveragainonFriday.”
“Sowehavetotellahundredpeoplethatwefuckedup,andnowwe’reoutofourmostpopularappetizer.”
“Ifitmakesyoufeelanybetter,”Marcosays,“ImadeAlexcallJoeandtellhimhimself.”
Irollmyeyes.JosephCohenismanythings,butahard-assisnotoneofthem.He’llbecomfortingAlexbeforethatconversationisover.Allofthehard-assingatCohen’sislefttome.
Ipullthephoneawayfrommyear,stilllookingformydaughter.“Sophie!”
“DoyouwantmetotakeSophietoschool?”
IstartleasInoticeCassiestandingnearherbedroomdoor.“DidIwakeyouup?”
“Oh,no,”sheassuresme.“I’vebeenup.”Sheeyesmyphoneinmyhand,whereMarcoisstillchatteringaboutsomething.“ButIcantotallytakeher,ifsomethingcameup.”
“Oh.No,I—”IbringthephonetomyearandmurmurtoMarcotogivemeasec.“Iwanttotakeher.We’rehavingamildscallopdisasteratworkthatIhavetodealwith.”
“Oh,okay.Ifyou’resure.”Shegrinsatmethen.“Didyouknowthatascallopcanproduceuptotwomillioneggs?”
Imakeaface.“Snapple?”
“Snapple,”sheanswerswithanod.
Icatchmyselfsmilingdespitewhat’shappeningontheotherendofmyphone.“Goodtoknow.”
“I’llgoseeifIcanrustleupyourdaughter,”Cassiesays,frowningupatthestairs.“Ibetshecan’tfindhershoesagain.”
IcandistantlyhearMarcocallingmyname,butI’mignoringit.“Thanks,”ItellCassie.“Thatwouldbegreat.”
“Don’tsweatit,”shesays,wavingmeoff.
ShestartstoclimbthestairsinsearchofSophie,andIcatchmyselfwatchinghergoforasecondlongerthanImeanto.ItearmyeyesawaywhenIrealizewhatI’mdoing,turningmybacktothestairsandgivingMarcomyfullattentionagain.
“Listen.Calltheserversandhavethemcomeinearlyforastaffmeeting.Wecanmakethemaware,andthey’llhavetoletthetablesknowastheyseatthem.Icangotomorrowmorningtotheseafoodmarketacrosstownandgetenoughtolastuntilthetruckcomesback.”
“Okay.Sure.”Marcoscoffs.“I’mgoingtoletAlexcallthem.Lethimgetbitchedoutbytheservers.”
Thismakesmelaughdespitemygrowingheadache.“Soundslikeaplan.I’llbeinlater.”
“We’llbehere.”
“Right.Bye.”
Ihangupthephone,stowingitinmypocketasIhearfootstepscomingdownthestairs.IturntoseeSophietakingthestairstwoatatime,Cassieclosebehind.Ithrowmyhandsupinquestion.“What’stheholdup?”
Sophiefrowns.“Icouldn’tfindmyshoe!”
IglanceatCassie,whogivesmean“Itoldyouso”look.
“Well,comeon,”Iurgemydaughter.“Thatteacherwiththewhistleisgoingtoyellatmeagainifwe’relate.”
Sophieadjustsherbackpack.“Okay,okay.”
“Thanksforgettingher,”ItellCassie.
“Noproblem,”shesays.Shewavesherhandsinashooingmotionatusboth.“Goon,bothofyou.Canconfirmthewhistleladyisscary.”
ItakeSophie’shandtopullheroutthefrontdoortowardthecar,anddespitewhat’swaitingformeatworktonight,Icatchmyselfsmiling.
—
Whyisn’tCassietakingmetoschool?”
“Ihadtimethismorning.”ImeetSophie’sgazeintherearviewmirror.“Ithoughtwedidn’tlikeCassie?”
Sophiepursesherlips,faceturningtowardthewindowassheshrugs.“She’sokay.”
“Justokay?”
“She’skindofweird.”
“Oh,really?Howso?”
“She’salwaystryingtohangoutwithme,”Sophiehuffs.“Doesn’tshehaveanygrown-upfriends?”
“Maybeshelikesyou,”Isuggest.
Sophietriestolookcasual,butIdon’tmissthewayhereyesdarttothesidetomeetmineagaininthemirror.“Doyouthinkshedoes?”
“Idoubtshe’dkeeptryingtohangoutwithyouifshedidn’t,”Iassureher.“Maybeyoushouldbenicertoher.”
“I’mnicetoher,”Sophiemutters.
“Uh-huh.”
“She’snotaslameasthelastnanny,”Sophiesaysafterwepassanotherblock.
“I’mgladyouthinkso,”Itellher.
Imeanittoo.Aftergoingthroughfournanniesinthelastyear,IwasdamnneardesperatebythetimeCassie’srésuméhadreachedmyinbox.
BringingSophietotherestaurantisfineasanintermediarysolution,butdoingittooregularlyhadstartedtowearonusboth.SoithadfeltlikeanactualmiraclewhenCassieapplied.Ihadbeenpreparedtoofferwhateverittookforhertotakethejob,convincedbyherrésuméalonethatshewastheanswerwe’dbeenlookingfor.
ButthenImether.
Idon’tevenknowwhatIexpected;Ionlygaveathoughttohercredentialsintheshortperiodbetweenansweringheremailandseeingherforthefirsttime,butIcandefinitivelysaythatCassietookmebysurprise.Evenwiththeslightdisasterofourfirstmeeting,ithadbeenhardtopretendthatIwasn’tdistractedbyher.
It’snotappropriateintheslightestformetohavenoticedhowsilkyherauburnhairlooks,orhowpoutyhermouthappears.It’sdefinitelynotacceptablethatmyeyeshaddrunkinthewayherblackdresshuggeddangerouscurvesbeforeIforcefullypackedthosethoughtsaway—andthat’swhatI’vebeendoingeversince.
IhavetoremindmyselfonceadayofallthethingsIshouldn’tbenoticingaboutCassie.Likehowprettyhersmileis,orhowbrightherblueeyesseemtoappearwhenshelaughs,forexample.Ultimately,I’monehundredpercentsurenowthatsheisthebestpersonforthejob,andfindingherattractiveinanycapacityonlyservestopotentiallyfuckupthegoodthingwe’vestartedtofind.SophieismoreimportantthanafewwaywardthoughtsIcannevergivevoiceto.
EveniftheyaresometimeslouderthanI’dlikethemtobe.
“Whathappenedatwork?”
Sophie’svoicepullsmeoutofmyownhead,remindingmeofthescallopfiasco.“Someonenotpayingattention,”Igrumble.“We’regoingtobeoutofapopulardishtonight.Peoplearegoingtocomplain.”
“Whatareyououtof?”
“Scallops.”
Hernosewrinkles.“Ew.Whatisthat?”
“Kindoflikelittleclams.”
“Gross.”
“Well,I’mgladthatyouaren’tputoutbythis,”Ilaugh.
“Cassiesaidshe’sgonnashowmehowtomakeminipizzasfromtortillasfordinner,”Sophiesays.Shetriestolooklikesheisn’texcited,butIcantellit’safront.“Ibetthey’regrosstoo.”
“Soundsprettycooltome.I’msadI’llmissit.”
Sophiepouts.“Iwishyoucouldstayhometonight.”
“I’msorry.”Ifrown,feelinglikeadick.“Ihavetodealwiththegrossscallops.”Ieyeherinthemirror.“It’sgoingtogetevenbusierinthenextfewweeks.We’readdingsomethingstothemenu.”
“Okay,”sheanswersquietly,tryingnottoletherdisappointmentshowasguiltpangsinmychest.
Ourlastyearhasn’tbeeneasy.Attimesit’sbeenadownrightnightmare,andI’vethoughtmorethanoncethatifI’dknownSophieandIwouldenduphere,Imighthavechosenadifferentprofession.IlovewhatIdo,butIhatenotbeingabletospendmoretimewithher.Shepretendsthatitdoesn’tbotherher,myfrequentlatenights,butIknowbetter.There’sjustnothingIcandoaboutitrightnow.
“You’llhavetotellmeallabouttheminipizzastomorrowthough,”Ioffer.
Sophienods.“Okay.”
Inoticeherschoolcomingintoview,signalingwithmyblinkerasIpreparetoturnintothedrop-offline.IknowinthecomingweeksI’llhavefarfeweropportunitiestodriveherlikethis,andthatonlyincreasesmyguilt.Ithinkthat’swhyI’msodesperateforCassieandSophietohititoff.IfIcouldimagineSophiehavingfunandnotholingupinherroom,Imightbeabletonotcompletelyhatemyselfforbeingabsent.
“TellCassieit’smyturntopickamovietonight,”Sophietellsmebeforeshehopsoutofthecar.“Shepickedyesterday.”
She’sstilltryingtolookasifsheisn’tveryinterested.Italmostmakesmelaugh.Mydaughterisalotofthings,buthardtoreadisnotoneofthem.
Igrinather.“I’lldothat.”
—
Idon’tgohomeimmediately;Itakeadvantageoftheextratimethismorningtostopbythegymonmywayback,ifonlytocutdownontheamountoftimeIwillbealoneinthehousewithCassiewithoutSophieasabuffer.I’vefoundduringthislastweekthatalongrunonthetreadmillusuallyhelpsensureIamtootiredtoeventhinkaboutwhateverCassieiswearingorhowshe’sfixedherhair.Shehasahabitofthrowingitintoamessybunontopofherhead,andwhilethere’snothingparticularlyspecialaboutthewayshedoesit,itmakeshernecklooklonger,makesiteasiertonotice.It’sonemorethingIshouldn’tbethinkingabout.
BythetimeIdogetbacktothetownhouse,I’mwornoutandsweatyandingoodneedofashower.Thankfully,it’snearlylunchtime,whichmeanswhenIfinishupeverythingelseIneedtodobeforework,IcanescapetotherestaurantandavoidanydangerousmomentsalonewithSophie’snanny.
ThehouseisquietwhenIstepthroughthefrontdoor.IhangmykeysonthehookbesideitasInoticeCassie’sclosedbedroomdooroffthestairs.Iconsiderstoppingtocheckonher,butdeepdownIknowthere’snorealreasonto,soIwalkpastinsteadtoclimbthestaircase.ImentallygoovermylistofthingstodobeforeIgointoworkinalittlewhile.I’mstillworkingthroughmychecklistinmyheadasIstepoffthelandingtoheadtowardthekitchen.Maybethat’swhyIdon’tnoticeheratfirst.
Icrossthekitchen,openingtherefrigeratordoortolookinsideandnotingseveralthingswearegettinglowon.IguessIneedtoaddatriptothegrocerystoretomylist.IfIcanfindthetimetoday,thatis.
“Icangolater,ifyouwant,”IhearCassiecallfromthelivingroom,startlingme.“Ijusthaveafewmoreassignmentstoworkthrough.”
Istandtherewiththefridgedooropen,distractedmomentarilybymessyauburntressespiledhighonherhead.It’sanactualchoretokeepmyeyesthereandnotletthemdiplower,focusingonherfaceinstead.Whereit’ssafe.
“Ididn’tseeyou,”Itellher.“Sorry.”
Sheshakesherhead,shiftinginthearmchairtomovethelaptopsittingbetweenhercrossedlegs.“You’refine.IhadafewlessonsIthoughtI’dgetaheadonsinceyoutookSophie.Itotallywouldhavetakenher,bytheway.”
“No,no,it’sfine,”Iassureher.“Iwantedto.”
“Anynewsonthescallopsituation?”
IscoffasIshakemyhead.“Tonightisprettymuchshot.I’mhopingtobeabletofindsomemorefortomorrownight,atleast.Ifwehavetomakeittotheendoftheweekwithoutany,peoplewilllosetheirminds.”
“Oh,no,”shesayswithahintofamusementinhervoice.“Aclam-tastrophe.”
Igroanatherterriblejoke,butIcan’thelpbutgrinasIcovermyeyes.“Thatwasawful.”
“That’ssortofwhereIlive,humor-wise.Somewherebetweenawfulandlame.”Cassie’slipscurlinasmile,andthat,too,isdistracting.Atthispointinourlivingarrangement,IjusthopeI’mnotunconsciouslymakingaweirdfacewhenIlookather.“Idon’thavealotlefttodoherethough,”shetellsme.“Icanruntothegrocerystoreifyouwant.Saveyouatrip.”
Iglancebackinthefridge,rememberingmyearliertrainofthoughtbeforeIgrabawaterbottlefromtheinside.“Thatwouldbegreat,actually.Icanleaveyouwithmycreditcard.Justgetwhateveryouguysneed.”
“ItmakessenseanywaysinceI’vebeendoingmostofthecooking,”shepointsout.
Igrimace.“I’msorryaboutthat.”
“What?”Shelooksgenuinelyconfused.“Don’tbe.It’smyjob,right?”
“Yeah,”Ianswer,unscrewingthecaponthewaterwhileIroundthecounter,leaningagainstitasIkeepasafedistancefromthelivingroom.“Right.Sorry.”
Cassielaughsquietly.“Youhaveahabitofapologizingwhenyoudon’thaveto.”
“Sorr—”Ifrown.“Idon’tevenrealizeI’mdoingithalfthetime.”InoticehergazeflickdowntomyT-shirtthatisstillprettydrenchedwithsweat,andIgiveheranapologeticlook.“Ineedashower.”
“Kindof,”shechuckles.“Idon’tknowwhereyoufindtheenergytoworkoutwiththelatenightsyou’vebeenpulling.”
Ishrug.“Yougetusedtoit.Justhavetostealtimewhereyoucan.”
“Couldn’tbeme.”
Inodtowardherlaptop.“Whatareyouworkingon?”
“Nothingfun,”shesighs.“ButIhavetogetitdonebeforemyon-campuslabsthisweekend,andIpromisedSophiewe’dmakeminipizzastonightandwatchamovie.”
“Shetoldme.”Ismile.“Shealsotoldmetotellyouthatit’sherturntopick.”
Cassiesnorts.“Shewouldsaythat.Shetotallytrickedmeintopickingtheoneshewantedlasttime.ThiswillhavetobeourthirdtimewatchingEncantoatthispoint.”
“Encanto?”
Shelooksatmelikethequestionisanoffensiveone.“Really?‘WeDon’tTalkAboutBruno’?”
“Whydon’twetalkaboutBruno?”
“Howhaveyoumissedthis?IfeellikeSophiehassungthissongatleasteightdozentimesinthelastweek.”
“Wait.Isthistheoneaboutawedding?”
“It’scatchyashelliswhatitis.Ihaven’tbeenabletoshowerwithoutthatdamnedsoundtrackmakinganappearance.”
Don’tthinkaboutherintheshower.Justdon’t.
“IguessIneedtowatchthemovie.”
“Oh,don’tworry.She’llcorneryoueventuallyandforceyou.”
Ilaughatherexpression,disgruntledandyetsomehowaffectionate.“Ithinkshelikesyou.”
Cassieperksup.“Youthinkso?”
“Ido.Shelikestoacttough,butIcantellshe’salreadywarmeduptoyou.”
“Shecouldthrowmeaboneandletitshow.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.“Thatwouldbetooeasy.She’sgottomakeyouthinkyouearnedit.”
“She’ssostubborn,”Cassiesays,grinning.“Isortofloveher.”
“Iam…verygladtohearyousaythat.”
“She’sanawesomekid,”Cassiesaysseriously.“It’skindofhardnotto.”
There’sstillatouchofasmileatmymouthasIlookdownatmyfeet.“Sheis.”
IthinkIdreadone-on-oneconversationswithCassiebecausetheyaresoeasy.Sure,therearesometimeslullsorawkwardsilenceswhereIamtryingnottonoticeherinallthewaysIshouldn’tbe—buteverytimeItalktoher,it’salmostasifwe’vebeentalkingforever.
“Imeanttotellyou,”Istart,changingthesubject.“Outsideofthe…clam-tastrophe”—CassiegivesmeanahathatIrollmyeyesat—“workwillbebusierforawhile.”
Herbrowknits.“Oh?”
“Yeah.We’retestingafewnewdishesfortheirpotentialasadditionstothepermanentmenu,andthatalwaysmeansmoretimetoassessanyfeedbackandrefineanydetails.I’llhavetomeetwiththenewsuppliers,andgoovertherecipeswithmysous-chefs…It’susuallyanightmare.”
“Oh.”Shenodsidly.“Igetit.Gottawork,right?”
“Stayinschoolaslongasyoucan,”Ihuff.“It’sshitouthere.”
Cassielaughs.“Ibetthewholesteadypaycheckthingmakesitworthitthough.”
“Onemightarguethat,yes.”
Hersmilereallyis…verypretty.Itusuallytiltsononesidefirst,likeshe’sthinkingaboutit,butthentheotherliftstojoinitasshegrinsinearnest.Itmakesithardnottolookwhenshesmileslikethat.Ishouldlethergetbacktoherschoolwork,Iknowthat;Ishouldturnaroundandheadtomyroomtoshowerandleaveherbe
Iwalktothecouchinstead,settlingintoitasItakeanotherswigfrommywaterbottle.IreasonthatIamjustrestingforasecond.
Don’tmakethingsweird.
“Didyoualwayswanttogointooccupationaltherapy?”
“Mostly,”shesays.“Sincemysophomoreyearofundergrad.Maybeearlier.Themoneyisgood,andtheworkfeelslikesomethingIwouldenjoy.”
“Imean,you’reamazingwithkids…Isthatwhoyouwanttoworkwith?”
“Ithinkso.Itoldyoumyparentsweresortofshitty,right?”
Ithitsmeharderthanitshould,beingremindedofit;maybeit’sbecauseofmyownsituation.“Youdid.”
“Yeah,well.Ikindofliketheideaofbeingthereforkidslikethat.Youknow?Kidsthatdon’tthinktheyhaveanyoneelse.”
EverynewthingIlearnaboutCassiemakestalkingtoherthatmuchmoredangerous.
“Igetit,”Isay,crinklingtheplasticofthewaterbottleasInoddownatmyknees.“It’sgoodmotivation.Plus,itseemslikeyou’vehadalotofpractice,withthechildren’shospital.Youworkedthereforalmostayearright?Whatdidyoudobeforethat?”
Shelookssurprisedbythequestion,astrangeblushathercheeksassheavertshereyes,lookingsuddenlyveryinterestedinherlaptopscreen.“Oh,”shesays.“Randomoddjobs.Nothingnearlyascoolasthehospital.Itriedthewholefull-timestudentthingforabit,Iguess.”
“Ah.”There’ssomethingsortofnervousaboutherbehavior,andIcantellthatwhatevershedid,shemustnotwanttotalkaboutit.Whichisodd,butalsononeofmybusiness,Iguess.Itakeherdodgyreactionasmycuenottopry.“Well.I’msureitwasveryrewarding.Itwillbegoodexperience,too,Iimagine.It’sallveryadmirable.Whatyou’redoing.”
“Makesforalamepersonallifethough,”shelaughs.“Mybestfriendisinherseventies.”
Mybrowfurrows.“Really?”
“Oh,you’dloveWanda,ifyoucangetaroundthefactthatshe’sstillnotentirelyconvincedyoudon’thaveasecretbasement,thatis.”
“Oh,thatfriend.”
Shebeamsbackatme.“She’skindofaworrywart.”
“Ihopeyoubroughtheruptospeedonthebasementsituation.”
“Idid,butshehasn’tentirelyruledoutthepossibilitythatthere’sahiddendooraroundhere.”
“ThemoreIhearaboutWanda,themoreterrifiedIamtomeether,”Isnort.
“Ohyes.Youshouldbeveryafraid.She’sonehundredandthirtypoundsofpureterror.”Shelookspensivethen.“IwouldactuallylovetotakeSophietomeethereventually,ifthat’sokay?Ithinkthey’dreallyhititoff.”
“Idon’tseewhynot,”Isayafterthinkingforamoment.“Sophiewouldlikethat,I’msure.”
“IdefinitelythinkWandawouldgetakickoutofit.Thatis,ifyou’resureyou’reokaywithit.Imean,you’rewelcometocome,ifyou’refree…?”
“Oh,no,that’sokay.I’msureI’llstillbebusy.Letmeknowtheaddressandwhenyou’llbethere.MaybetextmewhenyougetbackhomesoIknowwhereyouguysare.Actually,maybeweshouldturnonlocationsharing,thatwayifanythinghappens—”
Inoticeshe’ssmilingagain,andIshutmymouthquickly.
“Isoundsilly,don’tI.”
“Yousoundlikeyourrun-of-the-millcontrolfreakdad.It’snotabadthing.Icandowhatevermakesyoufeelbest.”
There’snoreasonformetothinktwiceaboutthisstatement;Iknowit’sperfectlyinnocent,butthatdoesn’tstopthestrangesensationfromcoilinginmychest.“Right.Sorry.”
“Apologizingagain,”shechuckles.
“I’msureSophiewouldlovetogetoutofthehouseforabit,”Ireason.“I’msureshe’soverbeingcoopedupherewithmeeverydaythatshewasn’thangingoutattherestaurant.”
“Sophieloveshangingoutwithyou,”Cassieasserts.“Shetalksaboutyouallthetime.”
Mymouthpartsinsurprise.“Really?”
“Literally.Allthetime.Giveyourselfmorecredit.”
Inodslowly,considering.“I…Thanks.”
“JustcallingitlikeIseeit.”
“Shit.”Ifrown.“Thatremindsme—Irisissupposedtobecomingbylater.”
“Iris?”
“Sophie’saunt.Imentionedher,right?”
“Oh.”Shenodsinrecognition.“Right.Iremember.”
“SheaskedtoseeSophie.”
Cassielaughs.“Whydoyoulooksouncertainaboutthat?”
“Irisis…”Isigh.“IsupposeIshouldjusttellyou.Thingscanbetensebetweenussometimes.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah.Shemeanswell,shereallydoes,butshe’salwaysbeensoinvolvedinSophie’slife…Ithinksuddenlynotbeingabletoseeherwhenevershewantsreallyeatsather.She’striedtotalkmeintoajointcustodysituationseveraltimes.”
“Butyou’reherdad,”Cassieanswers.
Inod.“Right.AndI’mhappytoletherseeSophiewhenIcan,butIwantSophietohaveastableenvironment.”
“Thatmakesperfectsense,”Cassiesays,andhearingitfeelsnice,likeIhadn’tevenrealizedhowmuchIneededtohearanotherpersonvalidateit.
“Shecanhaveahabitofbeing…terse.Withthenannies.Inthepast.”
“IsshegoingtogoallWWEonme?”
Thismakesmelaugh.“No,no.Nothinglikethat.IthinkitjustbothersherthatIfeeltheneedtohiresomeoneinthefirstplace.IristhinksIshouldjustleaveSophiewithher.Butagain…thatfeelslikeaslipperyslope.Iwanthertoknowthatthisishome.Ithinksheneedsthatinherliferightnow.”
“Imightbebiased,”Cassiestarts,“because,youknow,you’repayingme”—webothlaugh—“butIreallythinkyou’redoingtherightthing.Kidsneedtofeelliketheyhaveaplacethat’stheirs,youknow?Evenifyou’renothereallofeveryday,Iimagineit’sacomforttoSophietoknowthatyou’llalwayscomehometoher.Ifthatmakessense.”
I’mnoddingdazedly,wonderinghowsomeonewhobarelyknowsuscouldencapsulateeverythingI’vebeenstrivingtodoaftersuchashorttimewithus.“Itdoes,”Isay.“Perfectsense.”
Cassietucksastrandofhairbehindherear.“Don’tworry,”shesayswithagrin.“IcanhandleIris.”
“Good,”Ichuckle.
There’sawkwardsilencethatsettlesonceagainbecauseIdon’tknowwhattosay,thesoftsoundofcrinklingplasticcracklingintheairasIanxiouslysqueezethewaterbottle.AgainItellmyselftogo,toleaveherhereandgoonaboutmybusiness,butI’mstillfindingitdifficulttodoso,notquitereadytobedonetalkingtoher.
“So,yousaidyouhadlabsthisweekend,right?”
“Yeah.Isthatokay?I’llbebackintimetomakeSophiedinner.”
“Oh,ofcourse.Sure.IwasjustgettingitinmyheadsoIwouldn’tforget.”Inodaimlessly.“HowdidyoumeetWanda,anyway?”
Atthispoint,I’mgraspingatstrawstotalktoheralittlelonger.
“Shewasmyneighboratmyoldplace.IgotlockedoutofmyapartmentbackwhenIfirstmovedintothebuilding,andshemademeteawhileIwaitedforthelocksmith.She’sorneryasshit,butIloveher.”Cassiegrinsassheshakesherhead.“Evenifshewasprettyconvincedyoumighthavebeensomesortofcriminalluringmeherewithafakekid.”
Isnort.“WhydoesthatsoundlikesomethingImightworryaboutifSophiewasinyourposition?”
“Don’tworry,Ipromiseyoucan’tbeasparanoidasWanda.”
“Whatarelief,”Ideadpan.
“Seriously,it’ssortofhystericalthatshewouldevenworryaboutmelikethat.She’stheonepickinguprandombingodateseveryotherweeknightandbringingthembackhome.”
“You’rekidding.”
“IwishIwas.ThewomangetsmoreactionthanIeverwill.”
Don’tthinkaboutthatstatement.Justdon’t.
“Shesounds…likeacharacter.”
“She’skindofwild.Honestly,herdatinglifeissortofimpressive.She’salwaystryingtogivemetips,andIsweartoyou,theyarejustasridiculousasyoumightimagine.ThankGodI’mnotworriedaboutitrightnow.”
Don’task.Don’tyoudareask,Aiden.
“So,youdon’tdate?”
Youass.Youutterlydenseass.
Shelookssurprisedbythequestion,andwhywouldn’tshe?It’saninappropriatequestion.Iquicklytrytocorrect.
“Ijustmeant—”Surely,shecantellI’mfloundering.Ihopeitisn’tshowingonmyface.“Irealizedthatweneverdiscussed,ah,howwe’dhandleit.Imean,ofcourseyourdatinglifeisaprivatematter,butitmightconfuseSophieifyouweretobringanyonehere.”Iwanttocrawlintoaholeandnevercomeout.“Imean,maybeifshewasasleep,andyoustayeddownstairs—”
“Oh.”Ittakesheramomentbeforehereyeswidenwithrealization.“Oh.”Shelaughs,whichmakesmefeelslightlylessridiculous,butonlyslightly.“No,no.Don’tworry.It’snotgoingtobeanissue.Idon’texactlyhavealotoftimeforiteither.Schoolkeepsmebusy.Doesn’tleavealotoftimetomeetMr.Right,youknow?”
There’snoreasonforthisnewstopleaseme.Absolutelynone.Ishouldn’tfeelbetterhearingthatshewon’tbebringingsomerandommanintomyhouse,becauseitshouldn’tmattertomeinthefirstplace.
“Sure,”Isayfinally,unabletolookherintheeye.“That’s…understandable.”
Shelaughsagain.“TheonlyboyfriendI’dhavetimeforatthispointwouldhavetobealive-inwillingtogetdownattheweirdesthours.”IthinkIstopbreathing,butonlyforasecond.Iwatchhereyesgowideandhercheeksflusheversoslightlyassheseemstorealizewhatshe’ssaid.“Wow,IdidnotthinkbeforeIspoke.Sorry.IsortoflosethewholefilterthingwhenIgetnervous.”
IknowthelongerIdon’trespondthemoreawkwarditwillbe,butmytonguefeelsgluedtomymouthatthemoment.Ican’tstopwonderingwhyshewouldbenervous.Isitbecauseofme?
Doesn’tmatter.Endthisfuckingconversation.
“Noworries,”Isaytightly.“It’sfine.”
AndI’mgoingtoleavenow,becauseit’sclearIcan’thaveaconversationwithCassietodaywithoutmakingatotalassofmyself,andI’mabouttomakeanexcuseandleavewhenshesays,“Whataboutyou?”
Thisthrowsme,forgettingwhatI’dbeenabouttodo.“Me?”
“Imean,surelysomeonelikeyouisn’thurtingfordates.”
Icanfeelmyselfblinkingdazedlyather.“Someonelike…me.”
“Well,yeah,youknow.”
Iabsolutelydonotknow,soItellherso.“Idon’t.”
Sherollshereyes,makingaslightlyfrustratedsound.“OhmyGod.Obviously,you’regood-looking.Andyou’rethisbigfancychef.”Ifeelmybrowsraise,stillstuckonobviouslyyou’regood-looking.“Imean…doIneedaplacetotakeSophiewhenyoubringsomeonehome,oristheresomesortofsock-on-the-doorpolicy?”
SomethingaboutknowingthatatthisverysecondCassieisthinkingaboutmebeingintimatewithsomeone,eveninthisstrangeoffhandedcapacity…it’snotgood.Whatitdoestome.There’sabsolutelynothingaboutitthatshouldbeexpandedorconsidered.
“Sockonthedoor,”Iechodumblybeforeadrychuckleescapesme.“No,”Itellher.“Youdon’thavetoworryaboutthat.BetweenworkandSophie,ithasn’tbeenanissuefor…awhile.”
Especiallysincemylastattemptwassuchadisaster.
Butthat’sanentirelydifferentstory.
ItellmyselfIamimaginingit,theexpressiononherfacethatalmostlookslikereliefbutisgoneasquicklyasitcomes,knowingthatmynonfunctioningbrainisjustsupplyingwhatitwantstosee.She’sprobablyjusthappyshedoesn’thavetobesubjectedtosomethingawkward,andI’moverherethinkingthingsIshouldn’t.Again.
Icheckmywatch,notactuallylookingatthetime.“I’dbettergoshower.Istillhavesomestufftodobeforework.”
“Okay.”Icatchhernoddingfromthecornerofmyeye,butIstillcan’tbringmyselftolookatherfully.“Ididn’tmeantochatyourearoff,”shecontinues.
Idolookatherthen,becauseIcan’thelpit.“No,no.Youdidn’t.Just…lotstodo.”
“Sure.”
Ipushoffthecouch,givingheranodbeforeIretreatupstairstoleavehertoherschoolwork.Idon’tlookbackatherasIgo,mainlybecauseI’mafraidshe’llseehowmuchIwanttokickmyownass,butInotethatIdon’thearherstarttotypeagainuntilIamnearlyoutofsight.
Don’tmakethingsweird.
Somuchforthat.“Canyouteaseyournipplesforme,Cici?”
God,hisvoice.It’slowandgravelly,butitmakesmefeeltinglyallover.Especiallysinceheseemstoknowexactlywhathewantsmetodo.
Myfingerstweakmynipples,andIcanhearhisbreathhuffagainsthisspeaker.
“Justlikethat.They’resopretty.Ibettheytastefantastic.”
Iwonderidlyifit’ssupposedtofeelthisintimate.Ican’tseehim,andhedoesn’tknowmyrealname.
Noneofthisstopsmefromcomingexactlyhowhetellsmeto.
CHAPTER5Cassie
I’mjustsaying,itcouldbealongcon,”Wandatutsontheotherendofthephonethat’spressedagainstmyear.
Ilaugh,shakingmyheadasIflipSophie’sgrilledcheese.“I’vebeenhereforoveraweek.Ithinkit’ssafetosaytheyaren’tplottingtokidnapme.”
“Youneverknow.”Iheartheclangingofpotsontheotherendoftheline.“Ican’tfindmydamnedsaucepan.”
“Itshouldbeinthecabinettotherightoftheoven.”
“Ialreadylookedth—oh.”
“Toldyou.”
“HowinthehelldoyouknowwheremystuffisbetterthanIdo?”
“Becauseyouhavetheorganizationalskillsofapackratwithamnesia.”
Wandascoffsindignantly.“Suchabully.”
“Yeah,yeah.”
“Whataboutthekid?Issheaterror?”
Iglancepastthekitchenintothelivingroom,whereSophieisloungingonthecouchplayinghervideogames,herlittlebrowfurrowedinconcentrationandhertonguepokingpastherteeth.Itmakesmesmile.
“She’sgreat,”ItellWandaquietly.“Imean,sheissortofaterror,butIkindoflikeit.”
“SoundslikesomeoneelseIknow,”Wandasnorts.“I’mgladshe’sreal.Youknow,IhalfworriedthisAidenfellowmighthavebeenoneofyourbooby-camstalkers.”
“Yeah,”Ichuckle.“Right.Idon’tthinksomeonelikehimneedstovisitsiteslikethat.”
“Oh?Someonelikehim?”
“Imean…I’msurehecouldseetherealthingforfreeanytimehewants.”Ilowermyvoice.“Hedoesn’tlooklikethetypewhowouldhaveanytroublebringingwomenhome.”
“CassieEvans.Areyoutellingmeyournewbossishandsome?”
Ipause,cursingmyself.Shewasn’tsupposedtoknowthatpart.Itrytokeepmyvoicecasual,likeIhaven’tgivenitmuchthought.“Iwouldn’tsaythathe’sunattractive.”
“Oh,Lord.Heis,isn’the?Howhotarewetalking?”
“Idon’tknow.Ihaven’tpaidmuchattention.”
“YouknowIknowwhenyou’relying,right?”
“Fine,”Ihuffwithdefeat.IglanceatSophieasIhalfwhisper,“He’sinsanelyhot,okay?”
“Whew,boy.Youshouldsendmeapicture.”
“Iamabsolutelynotgoingtodothat.Also,wouldyouevenbeabletofigureouthowtoopenitifI’mnotthere?”
“Suchabully,”shemuttersagain.“Youbecareful,youhear?Handsomeguysaretrouble.”
“I’llbesuretoguardmyvirtuecarefully,”Isayseriously.“Buttrustme,there’snochanceitwillbeanissue.He’swayoutofmyleagueonmybestday.”
“Oh,shutup.Youknowyou’realooker.”
“Yeah,yeah.Whataboutyou?Metanyonenewyet?”
IcanhearthesoundofrunningwaterasWandaworksonherowndinner.“Nooneworthmentioning,”shesnorts.“DamnedFred’sbeencallingthough.Can’tseemtogetthehint,thatone.”
“Maybehejustfindsyouirresistible.”
“Well,nooneisarguingthat,”shesaysmatter-of-factly.“ButI’mnotthatlonelyyet.Evenifyoudidleavemehighanddryoverhere.”
“Aw,isthisyourwayoftellingmeyoumissme?”
Shecluckshertongue.“Maybe.Maybenot.”
“Iactuallywanttocomevisitsoon,ifthat’sokay.I’dloveforyoutomeetSophie.Aidenalreadyclearedit,ifyou’reupforit.”
“WellofcourseIwanttomeetthelittlehellion.Ihavetomakesureshe’smakingyouearnthatbigfatsalarytheyluredyouawayfrommewith.”
Iflipthegrilledcheese,laughingagain.“Ofcourse.”
“Bringheroverfordinner,andI’llmakemymeatballs.”
“Youknowthewaytomyheart.”
“Itriedtotalkyououtofleavingme,butyouhadtogo…”
“Iknow,Iknow.I’llpickadaysoonandletyouknow.Sophie’sdinnerisalmostdone.Ibettergetherfedbeforeshestartsbitingmyankles.”
“Iheardthat,”Sophie’svoicecallsacrosstheroom.
“Well,allright,”Wandasays.“I’llletyougo.Justmakesureyoucomeby.Isortofmissyourface.”
“Iloveyoutoo,”Ichuckle.
“Seeyousoon.”
“Right.”
SophiehaswanderedintothekitchenbythetimeIhangupthephone,peekingatthegrilledcheeseI’mslidingontoaplate.“Canyoucutmineintotriangles?”
“Well,obviously,”Isnort.“Thetrianglesmakeittastebetter.”
I’mrewardedwithatoothygrin.“Yeah.”
“Doyouwantmilkorjuice?”
“Um.”Sophieconsiders,weighingheroptions.“Milk.No,juice.Yeah.Iwantjuice.”
“Ithinkwehavesomeapplejuiceleft,”Itellher.“Gocheck.”
“Okay.”
IfinishupthesecondgrilledcheeseI’vemadeformyselfasshepacesovertothefridge,pullingopenthedoorstopeekinsideasIturnoffthestove.It’snotthefanciestmealanyonehasevermade,butthankfully,itdoesn’ttakemuchtoimpressanine-year-old.Icanhearherhalfclimbingupontothecountertoptograbherownglass,whichisprettyparforthecourseformyindependentlittlecharge,andIamjustgettingreadytoscoldherwhenIamdistractedbythesoundofthedoorbell.IlookbackatSophiewithacuriousexpression;Idon’tknowwhocouldbecomingbythislatesinceAidenhasalreadyleftforwork.
Thenitdawnsonme.“Oh.That’sprobablyyouraunt.Yourdadsaidshewascomingby.”
Sophie’seyeslightup.“AuntIris!”
SheboundsoffevenasI’mcallingafterher,wipingmyhandsonakitchentowelbeforeIstartdownthestairstofollowher.Sophiealreadyhasthedooropen,huggingatall,thinwomanwithsoftblondhairfallingaroundhershoulders.HerfaceislitupinabrightsmileassheclingstoSophie,andit’sonlywhenshepeeksupatmethatherexpressionchanges,herdelicatebrowthatisthesameshadeasherhairturningdownandhersmilefaltering.
Idecidenottoletitbotherme.“Hi,”Igreetcheerily.“YoumustbeIris.Aidensaidyouwerecomingby.”
“Right,”sheanswersflatly,andIdon’tmissthewayhereyesdipdownandbackupagain,likeshe’ssizingmeup.“Youmustbethenewnanny.”
Ohboy.
“That’sme,”Isay,keepingmycheerytone.“Wewerejustmakingdinner…Doyouwanttocomeupandjoinus?”
Irislooksaround.“Aidenisn’there?”
“He’satwork,”Ianswer,noticingthetensenatureofhertone.
“Hmm.”
It’sallshesays,butshedoesclosethedoorbehindhertostepinside,soIguessshe’stakingmeuponthemealoffer.“Iwasjustmakingussomegrilledcheesesandwiches,”Itellher,turningtostarttowardthestairs.“ButIcanmakesomethingelseifyou’drather—”
“Ialreadyate,thankyou,”Irissaysstiffly.
She’sgoingtobeatoughnuttocrack,Ithink.
IletthesilencelingerasIstepoffthelandingandmovebacktothekitchentogetSophiesomejuice.
“Sohowlonghaveyoubeenworkinghere?”
IlookupfromthecountertofindIrishassettledonthecouch,watchingSophieclimbontooneofthestoolsatthecounterasshereadiesfordinner.
“Notlong,”Isay.“Justoveraweeknow.”
“Youjustseemsoathome,”Irisnotes.
“Oh,well…AidenandSophiehavebeengreat.”
“SorryifIsoundrude,”Irissays.“I’vejustalwayshatedtheideaofSophiebeingleftwithstrangers.”
“Ofcourse,”Ianswerwithasmilethatdoesn’tquitereachmyeyes.ShewatchesmeforaminuteasIpourSophie’sjuice,notspeakingagainuntilIslidethecupacrossthecountertoSophie’swaitinghand.
“Howoldareyou,anyway?Youseemkindofyoungtobeananny.”
“Twenty-five,”Itellhertightly.
Benice,Imentallychant.
“Wow.”Irislaughs.“Youreallyareyoung.Youmustbebarelyoutofschool.”
“Stillin,actually,”Icorrect.“I’vebeenworkingmywaythrough.”
“Oh?Andwhatareyougoingfor?”
“Occupationaltherapy.”
“Oh,wow.”Shenods,lookingalmostimpressed,albeitbegrudgingly.“That’sadmirable.”
“Let’shopeso,”Irespondbeforetakingabiteofmysandwich.“Andyou?Whatdoyoudo?”
“Iownaflowershop,”shetellsme.
Ilaughexcitedly.“OhmyGod!That’ssocute!”
Irislooksatmestrangely.
“Becauseofyourname,”Iclarify.
“Right…”She’slookingatmelikeI’velostit.“Well.IusedtorunitwithRebecca.It’sbeenharderdoingitalone.”
Mysmiledissipates.“Oh.Ofcourse.Iwassosorrytohaveheardaboutthat.”
“Wereyou,”shesaysflatly.
Itakeanotherbite,andthenanother,wantingtoescapethisawfultension.IchewroughlyasSophiegivesmeathumbs-upaboutherownsandwich.“Momusedtogivemeflowersformybirthdayeveryyear.”
Ismile.“Oh,yeah?”
“Theywerereallypretty,”shetellsme.
“Thatsoundsverysweet.”
InoticethatIrisiswatchingthisinteraction,likeshe’sstudyingme,tryingtofindsomefault.
Ipopthelastbiteofmysandwichintomymouth,decidingthatI’mobviouslyinthewayhere.“Soph,howaboutIgoworkonthelaundrywhileyouandyourauntvisit?”
“Okay,”Sophiesaysflippantly.
“Great.”IsmileasIdropmyplateintothesink;I’llwashdisheslater.“I’llbearoundifyouguysneedme.Justletmeknow.”ItrytoflashasmileinIris’sdirection,oneshedoesn’treturn.“Itwasnicetomeetyou,Iris.”
Irisnodsstiffly.“Youtoo.”
Imakemyescapequickly,climbingthestairstothethirdfloortogatherupSophie’slaundrythat’sprobablyscatteredonherbedroomandbathroomfloor.Sophieseemedtobeunaffectedbythestrangefirstmeetingbetweenherauntandme,butIcan’tpretendI’mnotalittleuncomfortable.It’sveryclearthatIristhinksI’mnotneededhere,andIcanonlywonderhowthatmightmakethingsweirdgoingforward.Still…basedoneverythingAidenhastoldme,Ican’thelpbutbealittlesympathetic.Itmustbehardtohavelostasisterandanieceallatonce.Iwouldprobablybebittertoo.ItellmyselfthattherewillbeplentyoftimetogetonIris’sgoodside,andwhoknows?Maybewecanevenbefriends.Eventually.
IthinkbacktoIris’scoldexpression,myoptimismwavering.
Onsecondthought.
—
TheencounterwithIrisstaysonmymindfortherestofthenight—througharoundofboardgamesandevenwhilegettingSophiereadyforbedbeforetuckingherin—andmaybethat’swhyitfeelsimpossibletogettosleep.Itossandturnformaybeanhourtryingtodriftoff,andeventuallyIdozeatsomepoint,butit’srestless.Likeoneofthoseinstanceswhereyou’reawakeenoughtoknowyou’reasleepbutasleepenoughnottobeawake.Ifthatevenmakessense.
Atsomepoint,Igiveupontheideaofitaltogether,swingingmylegsoverthesideofthebedinahuffanddecidingtoheaduptothekitchenforadrink.IfIcan’tgetsleep,Icanatleastgethydrated,Iguess.IrubmyeyesasIleavemybedroom,closingthedoorbehindmeandtrudgingupthestairs.
Idon’tnoticehimatfirst,myeyesstillheavyandmyyawnmeaningI’mnotreallylookingwhereI’mgoingasIshuffleacrossthelivingroom,butjustbeforeIroundthecounterIhearhimstartle,makingmedothesamething.
“Aiden?”
Helookssurprisedtoseemethere,almostlikemaybehe’dforgottenIwasevenhere—hiseyesexhaustedwithdarkcirclesunderneaththemandhisbutton-downhalf-undonetorevealastarkwhiteT-shirtunderneath.“Cassie?Whatareyoustilldoingup?”
“Sorry,”Ioffer,stiflinganotheryawn.“Icouldn’tsleep.”
“Oh.”Henods,standinginthelightoftheopenfridgewithanamberbottleinhishand.“IhopeIwasn’tbeingtooloud.”
Iwavehimoff.“No,no.Itwasn’tyou.Justalongday.”
“You’retellingme,”hehuffs,finallyclosingthefridgedoor,makingitsothattheonlythingcastinganylightisthesoftglowofthebulbfromtheventhoodoverthestove.
“Brutal?”
Hepopsoffthecapofhisbeer.“Very.”
“Sorryaboutthat.”
Hetakesaswig,makingasatisfiedsoundwhenhepullsthebottleaway.Evenhaggardlooking,it’shardtomisshowgoodhelooks,whichisasharpreminderthatwe’realonehereintheneardarkjuststaringateachother.Probablynotthebestidea.
Iscratchmyscalpsleepily.God,I’mexhausted.“ImetIristoday.She’s…acharacter.”
Aiden’smouthpressestogetherinatightline.“Shewasn’tawfultoyou,wasshe?”
“Well,I’dbelyingifIsaidshewasgoingtobeinvitingmetoherbirthdaypartyanytimesoon,”Itellhim.“Butitcouldhavebeenworse,Iguess.”
Aidenleansagainstthecounternearthefridge.“I’mgladshewasn’trude,atleast.”
“Ididn’tknowSophie’smomranaflowershop,”Ipointout,makingconversationforreasonsthatescapeme,giventhatit’ssolate.
“Oh,yeah.”Aidennodsbeforetakinganothersip.“It’saprettypopularshop.Irisrunsitbyherselfnow.”
“ShereallyseemstoloveSophie,”Inote.
“Yeah.She’sgreatwithher.Halfraisedher,really.”
“Shewasn’tentirelyhappythatSophiecamestraighttomeafterRebeccadied.Sheseemstothinkshewasthebetterchoice,since,inherwords,IwasneverthereforSophielikeshewas.Itmadeforalotofargumentsinthebeginning.”
“Butyou’reherdad,”Iargue.“Ofcoursesheshouldbewithyou.”
“Thecourtsagreed,butIris…”Heshakeshishead.“Partofmethinksshe’sjustwaitingformetofuckallthisupsomehow.”
Oh.IknowI’msleepy,butsomethingaboutAiden’sdeepvoiceutteringsuchadirtywordmakesmystomachflutter.Definitelynotthetime,Ithink.
“Itdoesn’thelpthatI’minthebusiesttimeofmylife,career-wise,”hegoeson,sighing.“ItkeepsmeawayfromhomemorethanI’dlike.”
Iwon’tpretendthisdoesn’tplungemythoughtsintomyownchildhood,thoughtsrushingbackofmyparentsandtheirjobsandthefinancialburdenthatIwasconstantlybeingremindedthatIwas.IamalmostonehundredpercentcertainthatAidenisnothinglikemyparents,sinceheactuallyseemstoenjoyspendingtimewithSophieandtriestodosoeverychancehe’sable;Ipackawaymyownbiastotrytoseehisside
“Igetit.Youhavetowork.Plus,it’snotlikeyou’rejustleavingherherebyherself.Andyouspendallyourextratimewithherwhenyouaren’tworking,right?”
“AsmuchasIcan,”hesayswithanod.“Ijust…”Hemakesafrustratedsound.“I’mdoingmybest,butsometimesitfeelslikeit’snotenough.”
“I’msorry,”Isayagain.“I’msurethisisn’twhatyouwantedtocomehometo.Ididn’tmeantohitanerve.”
“No,no.I’msorryfordumpingthisonyou.Itjustweighsonme.”
“Don’tbe,”Iassurehim,finallymovingtothefridgetograbawaterbottle.Ipullitopen.“We’lljustsaythatmildtherapyispartofmyduties.I’llsendmybillinthemail.”
Hismouthquirks.“Obviously.”
“Anyway…I’msureyou’retired.I’dbettergetbacktonotsleeping.”
“Yeah,Iwouldn’twanttokeepyou,”hechuckles.
“It’sthanklesswork,butsomeonehastodoit.”
Iclosethefridgedoorwiththeintentionofleavinghimtohimself,buthesurprisesmewhenhereachesouttograbmywristloosely.Istaredownathisthickfingersthatarewarmagainstmyskin,lookingbackuptomeethisconcernedexpression.
“Sorry,”hesaysquietly.“It’sjust…You’reokay,right?”
Iblinkwithconfusion.“What?”
“Imean…shedidn’tsayanythingtoupsetyou,didshe?”
“Me?”
Aidennods.“It’sjust…Ihopeshedidn’tscareyouoff.”
“Oh.”
Thethoughthadn’tevencrossedmymind.Imean,yeah,shewasicytowardme,butI’mabiggirl,andit’lltakemorethanIristorattleme.
“I’mfine,”Iassurehim.“Don’tworry.I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Hevisiblyrelaxes.“Good.”Ithinkherealizesitthen,thathe’sstillholdingmywrist,hisfaceturningdowntotakeitinbeforehequicklydropsit.“Sorry.I’mtired.Iwasn’tthinking.”
“It’sfine,”Ianswerquietly,thatflutteringinmystomachnowarampantflappingofwings.“Weshouldgotobed.”
Hiseyeswidenafraction,andthenitdawnsonmewhatI’vesaid.
“Imean—”Ifeelmyfaceheat.“Imeantseparately.Like,yougotobed,andIgotobed,and—”
“Right,”hesays,savingme.Isitjustmeorishisvoicelowerthanitwasasecondago?“Iknowwhatyoumeant.”
“Okay.”
Theair-conditioningfeelschillierthanitdidbefore,goosebumpsbreakingoutacrossmyskinandmynipplestighteningundermythinT-shirt,remindingmeforthefirsttimesinceIleftmyroom(andmuchtoolate,Imightadd)thatI’mnotwearingabra.ItonlyfullyhitsmewhenInoticeAiden’sgazedipdowninawaythatfeelsalmostlikeareflex,likehecan’thelpit.Ihearhissharpinhaleasheatrushesdownmyneck,andIquicklycrossmyarmsovermychestasembarrassmentfloodsthroughme.
Idecidethatnotacknowledgingitistheleastmortifyingoption,lookingdownatmytoesinsteadofhisface.“Okay.Well.I’mgoingtobed.I’llseeyouinthemorning.”
“Sure,”heanswersslowly.“Seeyouinthemorning.”
IpadawayasfastasIcanwithoutactuallyrunning,onlypausingatthelandingturnbackslightly.“Night,Aiden.”
“Goodnight,”hecallsback,andInoticehehasn’tmovedfromwherehe’sstanding.
Idon’tthinkItakeafullbreathuntilI’msafelybackinmyroomwiththedoorclosedbehindme,leaningagainstittocovermyeyeswithmyhands.IcanonlyhopetheentrywaywasdarkenoughthatIdidn’tgiveAidenacompleteeyeful;theembarrassmentofknowingmyvery-hot-but-off-limitsbossmighthaveseenmostofmynippleswasenoughtomakemewanttostickmyheadinatoilet.
IhuffoutasighasIshakemyheadatmyowncarelessness,staringoutintothedarkofmyroomandtellingmyselfit’snotabigdeal.Thatwe’reboundtorunintoafewfauxpasinasituationlikeours.ThatsurelyAidenwillhaveforgottenallaboutitbymorning.
Right,IthinkasItuckmyselfbackintobed.It’sabsolutelynotabigdeal.
EvenifI’mstillthinkingaboutthewayhelookedatme.Chatwith@alacarte
@alacarte
sentyoua$50tip
Ihaven’tstoppedthinkingaboutyourprettypinknipplesallweek.
CHAPTER6Cassie
Worryingaboutmylate-nightencounterwithAidenprovestobeallfornaught,giventhatafterthatnight,Ihardlyseehimforaweek.HetakesSophietoschooleverymorninginthedaysthatfollow,spendingallhisremainingfreetimeatthegymwhenSophieisn’thomeandsneakinginandoutoftheshowerbeforehedisappearsofftowork.IfIdidn’tknowanybetter,I’dsayhewasavoidingme,whichmakesmeevenmoreanxiousaboutthewholething.Iworryaboutthepossibilityofhavingmadethingsawkwardbetweenus,fearingthatImayhaveruinedtheeasyrhythmwe’dbeguntofallinto.BythefollowingSaturday,IcancountononehandtheglimpsesI’vehadofAidenReid,evenlivinginthesamehouse.
Imoseyintothekitchenthatmorningearlierthanusual,hopingtospendsomealonetimewiththecoffeepotbeforeSophiewakesup.IthinkI’vegotsometimebeforeAidenwakesupandbusieshimselfwithsomethingoranotherthatwillallowhimtoavoidtalkingtome.I’vedecidedatthispointthatIwillnotbelettingthisbotherme,thatifthingsareweirdbetweenAidenandme,itwillbehisfault,notmine.
ImeanforGod’ssake.Theguyhasseennipplesbefore.Anditisn’tlikeIdidn’tusetoshowminetohalftheinternetonaregularbasis.Idon’tevenknowwhyI’msounsettledbyit.It’snottheendoftheworld.
Istretchwhilethecoffeebrews,myrobeslippingfrommyshouldersabittodrapearoundthemlooselywhenIsettlebackagainstthecounter.Irollthemasawell-knowntightnesspricklesatmyback,reachingtorubattheraisedskinthereandsighinglikeIalwaysdowhenI’mremindedofmyscar.
Whenthecoffeeisdone,Iaddmoresugartomycupthanissociallyacceptable—butwhatever.Iclosemyeyeswhenthefirstsipofhotheavenhitsmytongue,hummingcontentedlyasIletitfinishthejobofwakingmeup.I’mstillstandingthereinthemisguidedsenseofsafetythatcomesfromthinkingI’vegotadecentamountofalonetimeaheadofme,stillleaningcasuallyagainstthecountertopwithmyrobeaskewandmyhandspreoccupiedwithmycupwhenIfinallypickuponalargebodysteppingoffthestairsthatleadtothethirdfloor.
Aidenyawns,hishairinsleep-musseddisarrayandhisarmshighinastretchthatmakeshisgrayT-shirtcreepupenoughtoflashthetonedlinesofhisabdomenabovehislow-slungflannelpajamabottoms.Myeyesaredrawntothewell-honedmusclethatmustbehisrewardfromalltheescapistworkouts,struckdumbfoundedatthecounter.Ishouldn’tbeoglinghim,Iknowthat,butlookingthewayhedoes…Ican’texactlyhelpit.
Andthat’swhenhenoticesme.
“Cassie?”
IrealizeI’mjuststandingtheregawking.“Oh,hey.You’reupearly.”
“Yeah.”Herunshisfingersthroughhishairabsently,stillblinkingsleepily.“Ihaveastaffmeetingthismorning.”
Hestillhasn’tmovedawayfromthefootofthestairs,almostlikehe’safraidtoapproachme.Itonlyfeedsmysuspicionsthatthingsareweirdbetweenus.
“Imadecoffee,”Ioffer.“Ifyouwantsome.”
“Thatwouldbegreat,”hesays.
HiseyesflickfrommyfacetomypinkbabydollT-shirt,remindingmeit’sthesameoneI’dbeenwearingduringourlastdisastrousencounter.IsitmyfaultthatI’msopartialtoit?AtleastI’mwearingabrathistime;Idefinitelylearnedmylessonaboutgoingsansbraoutsideofthesafetyofmybedroom.
ButIcanstilltellthatherecognizesit.
IhastilyreadjustmyrobeafterIsetmycoffeecuponthecounter—rightingitandbeltingitacrossmyfronttohidemyshirt.ThelastthingIneedisforAidentobethinkingaboutmynippleswhilehe’stryingtotalktome.
Iclearmythroat,tryingnottothinkabouthowobviousI’mbeing.“So,coffee?Howdoyoutakeit?”
“Blackisfine.”
Ipursemylips.“Really?”
“Idon’tlikeallofthatextrastuff,”headmits.
Ican’thelpit.Itmakesmesmile.“Youknow,I’vealwayssaidthatpeoplewhodrinkblackcoffeedon’tlovethemselves.”
“Idon’tknowifthatlogicissound,”Aidencounters,hismouthquirking.
Idon’tanswer,turningtomakehimacupinstead.Icanhearhimfinallycrossingthelivingroomtojoinmeinthekitchen,thescrapeofabarstoolbehindmealertingmetohisnearness.It’stheclosesthe’sbeentomesincelastweekend,andIhavetoadmititputsmeonedge.IcanalmostfeelhiseyesonmeasIwork,andIcan’thelpbutwonderifhe’srememberingthelasttimewewerethisclose.Ishestillthinkingaboutwhathesaw,oramItheonlyonefrettingoverit?
IturntohandhimhiscupwhenI’mdonepouringhiscoffee,andwhenhereachestotakeitfromme,hisfingersbrushagainstmine.Ifeellittlesparkswheretheytouch,andhedoesn’timmediatelywithdrawhishand.Asecondpasses,maybemore,beforehetakesthecupfromme,andIraisemineinamocktoast,keepingmyplaceagainstthecounterontheothersideandtryingnottohyperfixateonhowbroadhisshoulderslookinhisT-shirtorhowwarmhistouchwas.
“So,”hestarts,takingacarefulsipfromhismug.“Damn,that’shot.”Hefrownsashecontinues.“DidImissanythinginterestingthisweek?”
“Well,I’vebeenintroducingSophietomyundergroundgamblingring,butshehasn’timpressedmeyet.”
Hismouthtwitches.“Haveyou?”
“Yep.”Isighdramatically.“Thekidhasnopokerface.Idon’tthinkshe’scutoutforit.”
“I’mnotsureifIshouldbegratefulordisappointed.”
“Definitelydisappointed.Ifshecan’thandleblackjack,howareweevergoingtogettoTexasHold’em?”
Henodsseriously.“Well,thisdoessoundmuchmoreeducationalthanmultiplicationtables.”
“Oh,she’sdefinitelynotreadyforthat.Sheblowspasttwenty-onenearlyeveryhand.”
Aidenislaughingnow,andI’mgratefultoseesomethingotherthanfurtiveglancesandhisretreatingfigureasheducksoutofaroomtoavoidme.Icouldeasilyjustkeepupthis“let’spretenditdidn’thappen”gameandhopethatcarriedusbacktonormal,butunfortunately,Iamagluttonforpunishmentatheart.
IavertmyeyesasIbringmycuptomymouth.“So,youweren’tkiddingwhenyousaidthingsweregoingtogetbusy,huh?”
Aidensighs,blowingsoftlyonhiscoffee.“It’sbeenanightmare.Oneofoursuppliershadproblemsdeliveringthisweek.That’swhyIhaveameetingtoday;Ihavetomeetwithanothersuppliertotryandgetthingsbackontrack.”
Icantellbythesoundofhisvoicethathisfrequentabsencesaremorelikelytogetworsebeforetheygetbetter.ItmakesmethinkofallthetimesthisweekSophiehasmentionedherdad,knowingthatAidencan’thelpthathisjobishecticbutstillfeelingsympathyforthelittlegirlwhohadtohavehopedshe’datleastgettoseehimontheweekends.
IknowIshouldmindmyownbusiness,butit’shard.“Sophiewillmisshangingoutwithyouthisweekend.”
“She’llhaveabettertimewithyouthansheeverwouldwithme,”hesayswithanairysortoflaugh.
IwishIknewwhyAideninsistsonputtinghimselfdownallthetimewhenitcomestohisparenting.Iwonderifheactuallythinkshisdaughterwouldn’tprefertospendhertimewithherdadratherthansomerandomladyhehired.
“Shemissesyouwhenyou’renothere,”Icounter,tryingtokeepmytonecasual.“Icantell.”
Aiden’sbrowfurrowsashestaresdownintohiscup,thinking.“Imisshertoo.I’mhopingthingswillslowdownsoon.”
IwrestlewithtellinghimthatSophieisn’ttheonlyonewho’snoticedhisabsence,wonderingifitwillonlymakethingsweirder.Imean,there’snodoubtinmymindthathe’sbeenpurposefullyavoidingmelately,andIcan’tdecideifaddressingitwouldbeworsethanpretendingitisn’thappening.
“Iknowhowbusyyou’vebeen,”Ipointoutcarefullybeforetakingasipfrommyowncup.“FeelslikeIhaven’tseenyouthisweek.”
There.Isaidit.I’mprobablygoingtoregretit,butIsaidit.
“Oh.”Inoticethewayhisjawtenses,justasmuchasInoticehedoesn’tlookupatme.“Yeah.We’vehadalotofearlyprepworktodo.”
“Oh.”Maybeit’sthetruth.MaybeI’mreadingtoomuchintoit.Still.“Ithought…well.”Ishiftnervouslyfromonefoottotheother.“IguessIwasworriedyoumightbe…”
Hedoeslookatmethen,thoseprettyeyesofhismeetingmineandthrowingmytrainofthoughtoffcourse.“WorriedthatImightbewhat?”
“I…”Iswallowthickly,unsurehowtobringupwhatI’vebeenreferringtoinmyheadasthenippleincidentinawaythatwon’tbeincrediblyembarrassingforusboth.“IguessIthoughtmaybeyouwereavoidingme.After…youknow…”
Ican’treadhisexpressionatall,hisstonycountenanceonlymadeworsebythetightlineofhisplushmouthandthehardsetofhiseyes.I’dgiveanythingtoknowwhathewasthinkingrightnow,tohavesomewaytopreparemyselfforascoldingoranincrediblyawkwardconversation,andbythetimeheopenshismouthtospeak,Imightactuallybesweating.
“Cassie,actuallyI—”
“G’morning,”asleepyvoicemumblesfrombehindhim,startlingusboth.
Sophieshufflesintothekitchentojoinuswithbarelyopenedeyesandwildhair,havinggoneunnoticedbyusbothuntilthisverysecond.Aidenlooksbackatmeforonlyamoment,likewhateverhewasabouttosayisstillhangingonhistongue,buthequicklypastesonasmileandruffleshisdaughter’shairwhenshesidlesupbesidehim.
“Morning.Someonesleptwildlastnight.”
Sophiefrowns.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Lookatthathair,”helaughs.
Sophiereachestopatatwaywardtuftsthatstickupthiswayandthat.“Yourslooksweirdtoo.”
“Doesit?”Aidenreachestodosomethingsimilar,frowningwhenhenoticeshe’sinnobettershape.“Iguessyougetitfromme.”
Sophieplacesahandoverherstomach.“What’sforbreakfast?”
“Ihavepancakemix,”Ichimein.“Wecouldhaveanothergoatthosethatwon’tendinadisasterthistime,hopefully.”
Sophiegrins.“Aslongasdaddoesn’thelp.”
“You’rebothhilarious,”Aidenremarksdryly.Hechecksthetimeontheovendisplay.“Unfortunately,Ican’tstayforbreakfast,butatleastyouknowIwon’tbeabletomuckupthepancakes.”
Sophielooksdisappointed.“You’regoingbacktowork?”
“I’msorry,”Aidentellsher,soundinglikeheactuallyis.“Ihaveto.”
“Oh.”Sophielooksdownatherfeet,shrugging.“Ithoughtyouweregonnagotothebeachwithustoday.”
Herdemeanorandtonetouchessomethinginsideme,sparkingmemoriesofeatingaloneandwishingforanyone’scompanyotherthanmyown.IknowAidenisafarcryfrommyparents,butseeingSophiemakethefacethatsheisinthismoment,triggersemotionsIthoughtI’dlongpackedaway.
“IwishIcould,”hesays,soundingsincere.“YoutwoaregoingtohaveamuchmorefundaythanIwill.”
SuddenlyI’mstruckwiththeimageofAideninnothingbutswimtrunks,andthatimaginingmightactuallybebadformyhealth.
Heglancesoveratme.“Whichbeachareyougoingto?”
“Coronado.IfigurewecangetlunchattheDel.”
“ENO’shasgreatpizza,”hesays.“I’llleaveyousomecash.”
Itrytowavehimoff.“Oh,no,it’sokay,Ican—”
“You’regoingtobewrestlinganine-year-oldatthebeachallday,”hesaysbluntly.“I’mbuyingyourlunch.”
“Fine,”Iconcede,rollingmyeyes.
Itfeelsweirdacceptingmoneyfromhimforsomethingthat’smostlikelygoingtoendupbeingfunforme,too,butIreasonwithmyselfthatitisstilltechnicallyanon-the-clockactivity,andthatmakesmefeelbetteraboutit.
I’mdistractedbythislineofthoughtwhenAiden’seyesfindmineagain,somethinginthemmakingmefeelasifhehadmoretosayfrombeforeSophieinterrupted,likehestillwantstosayit.Itmakesmeevenmorecuriousaboutwhatitmighthavebeen.
“Ishouldgetashower,”hetellsus,givingusasmilethatdoesn’tquitemeethiseyes.“Don’twanttobelate.”
“Okay,”Sophiemumbles,stilllookingdejected.
“Thanksforthecoffee,”Aidentellsme,hisexpressionstillhintingatwhatremainsunspoken.
“It’sblackcoffee,”Ianswer,makingaface.“Idon’tknowifyoushouldbethankingme.”
“Right.”Hissmileiswarm,anditmakesmefeelsimilarly.“Yougirlshavefuntoday,”hesays,bendingtokissthetopofSophie’shead.“Stayoutoftrouble.”
Idon’tsayanythingmoreasIwatchhimleavethekitchen,andImightbeembarrassedbythewayI’mwatchinghim,ifnotforthefactthatIcatchhimpeekingbackatmeonelasttimebeforestartingtoclimbthestairs.
Idowntherestofmycoffeeinonego,lettingitlingerinmymouthasthoughtsbouncearoundmyskull.Onequestionstandsoutmorethananythingelse,though,oneIsuspectI’llbewonderingaboutfortherestoftheday,ifnotlonger
JustwhathadAidenbeenabouttosay?
—
ItwasagreatideatobringSophiehere.ShelookshappierthanI’veeverseenher,andIthinkthatmaybeAidenwasrightwhenhesaidshewouldliketogetoutofthehouse.She’scheeredalittlesinceweleft,butnotentirely,currentlybusyingherselfwithanelaboratesandcastleshe’smakingwiththevarietypackofbeachtoysshehadstashedawayatthehouse.
I’mdistractedwhileIwatchher,thememoryofAiden’sexpressionandthesoftwayhe’dsaidmynameweighingonmymind.Imightbemakingwhathappenedearlierseemlikemorethanitis,butthewayAidenhasbeenkeepinghisdistancefrommehasleftmeinaconstantstateofunease,andI’mnotevensurewhy.I’dliketosayit’sbecauseI’mworryingaboutmyjob…butI’mnotsurethat’sthewholetruth.Deepdown,IthinkIjustmisstalkingtohim.It’sprobablysillyofmetobesopreoccupiedbyit;it’smorelikelythathewasjustgoingtotellmethatweshouldpretenditneverhappened,whichwouldmostlikelybethebestcourseofaction.
Evenifitiseasiersaidthandone.
Sophie’searlierzealhasdieddownabitsincewehadlunch,butnotenoughthatshe’smadeanyindicationthatshe’sreadytoheadbackyet.She’dprobablystayoutherealldayifIlether.
“Hey,kid,”Icallfinally,brushingthethoughtsofAidenfaraway.“Ineedtoputsomemoresunscreenonyou.”
Shemakesaface.“I’mnotburning.”
“Youthinkthat,untilIgetyouhomelaterandyoulooklikealobster.”
“Fine,”shehuffs,pushingupfromthesandanddustingoffherhandsbeforeshecomestositwithmeontheblanket.
Shegivesmeherback,wrappingherarmsaroundherkneesandtuckingherchinagainstthem.Igrabthebottleofsunscreenfrommybagnearby,squirtingsomeintomyhandsbeforestartingonhershouldersthathavealreadystartedtoturnashadepinkerthantheyshouldbe.
Shewinces,andIcluckmytongue.“See?Wecaughtitjustintime.”
“Yeah,yeah,”shegrumbles.
“Areyouhavingfun?”
Sheshrugs.“Yeah.”
“Wow,waytorainonmyparade,”Itease.“YousoundlikeIhaveyououtherepullingweeds.”
“Idon’tknow…”Shesighs.“IwishDadcouldhavecome.”
IpauseinwhatI’mdoing,sympathypanginginmychest.Thereispartofmethatstillthinksitisn’tmyplacetopryintotheirrelationship.ThatIshoulddomyjobandearnmypaycheckandnotworryaboutanythingelse—butit’shard.EspeciallywiththewayI’vegrowntocareforthisspunkykidwhomightbesmarterthanIam.
NottomentionthewayI’mstillthinkingabouthowherfeelingsmightalignwithminefromanothertime;atimewhenI,too,hadwantednothingmorethantospendmoretimewiththepeoplewhoseattentionshouldbeagiven.IfinishapplyingthesunscreenthoroughlybeforeIwipetheremainderonmytowel,alertingherthatshe’sgoodtogo.Shedoesn’timmediatelymove,stillstaringoutattheslowrollofthewavesagainsttheshorelikeshe’slostinthought.
“Youcantalktomeyouknow,”Ioffertentatively.
Sheshrugsagain.“It’snothing.”
“Secretsdon’tmakefriends,”Isayseriously.“Andwe’refriendsnow,right?”
Shenods,andIresisttheurgetodoavictoryfistpump.“Iguessso.”
“So,tellmewhatyou’rethinkingaboutsoseriously.”
“IjustthoughtDadmightnotbesobusytoday.”
Somethingconstrictsinmychest.“I’msurehe’dratherbeherewithyou.”
“Iguessso,”shemumbles.“Ihateitwhenhe’sbusy.”
“Doesithappenalot?”
Sheshrugsagainpitifully.“Sometimes.Hisjobisstupid.”
“Ah,comeon,it’snotstupid.He’sgottaworksohecanbuyyoumorevideogames,right?”
“Iguess.”
Iscootuptositbesideher,andsheglancesatmefromtheside.
“Itjust…”shestarts.Icantellshe’swrestlingwithherwords,hervoicesofternow,likeshe’sembarrassed.“Itmakesmemissmymomwhenhe’sgonealot.”
“Oh,honey.”Iextendmyarmtopressmyhandonherback,rubbingaslowcircle.“Ofcourseitwould.”
Hersoftsnifflebreaksmyheart,thefirstsignofvulnerabilityshe’sshownsinceImether.“Shewasawesome.”
“Ibet.Imean,she’dhavetobe,sinceshemadeacoolkidlikeyou.”
“Shewassofunny,”Sophietellsme.“Shetoldthebestjokes.Andsheusedtoreadmestorieseverynight.”Asingletearrollsoverherlowerlashes,tricklingdownhercheek.“Dadworkslatealot,so.”
“Youknow,I’maprettygoodreader.”
Sophiereachestowipehernose,stilltryingherbesttolookstoic.“I’mtoooldforbedtimestories.”
“Sayswho?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Well,I’msuperold,andIstilllikebedtimestories.”
Sheperksupminutely.“Youdo?”
“Yep.IwasjustthinkingtheotherdayhowmuchIwishIcouldreadagoodstory.Maybeyoucouldhelpmeoutwiththat?”
Sophiebitesherbottomliptokeepfromgrinning,avertinghereyesasshetucksherchinagainstherkneesagain.“IguessIcould.Sinceyouwantto.”
“You’ddefinitelybedoingmeafavor.”
I’veonlyknownthislittlegirlfortwoweeks,butI’mstartingtothinkthereisn’tmuchIwouldn’tdotomakehersmile.EspeciallysinceIgetthefeelingshecoulduseasmanysmilesasshecangetwitheverythingshe’sbeenthrough.
“Okay.”Shenodsintoherknees.“Sure.”
“Hey,didyouknowthatyoucan’thumwhileholdingyournose?”
Sophie’slipspresstogether.“What?”
Ipinchmynose,makingaridiculousfaceasIgiveitago.Ifeelmyeyesbuggingoutandmycheekspuffing,andSophiegiggles.“See?Impossible.”
“Nuh-uh,”sheargues.“Icandoit.”
Herfacescrewsupwithconcentrationasshecopiesme,pinchinghernoseandtensingherwholebodyasshetriestoforceherthroattoproduceasound.Shedoesituntilherfacestartstoturnred,andIfinallyhavetotugherhandsawaysoshedoesn’tbustabloodvessel.Ican’thelpbutlaughatherirritatedexpression,lookinglikeshe’sangrytohavebeenbestedbymySnapplefact.
ButInoticeshedoesn’tlooksadanymore,soit’sworthit.“Itoldyouitwasimpossible.”
“Icouldfigureitout,”shegrumbles.
“I’msureyoucould,”Ichuckle.Inudgeherwithmyelbowagain.“Hey.Whydon’twegetoutofthehouseagaintomorrow?There’saparknearby.Thisgirls’daythinghasbeennice,right?”
Hereyeswiden,herinterestpiqued.“Apark?”
“Andmaybewecanfindabookstorethatsellsgoodbedtimestories.Youknow.Tohelpmeout.”Hertoothygrinismyreward,andIreachoutwithmyotherhandtowipeastraytearstillclingingtohercheek.“Nomoretears,okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now,let’sgetthissandcastlefinishedbeforewebothenduplookinglikelobs—”
Imakeasurprisedoomphsoundwhenherlittlearmswindaroundmesuddenly;hersmallbodypressingtomineassheclingstomeinawarmhug.I’monlythrownforasecondortwobeforeIsmileatthetopofherhead,circlingmyarmsaroundhershouldersandpressingmycheektoherhair.
“You’renotsolame,”shemumblesintomyshirt.“Forananny.”
IclosemyeyesasIbreatheinthesoftscentofherwatermelonshampoomixedwithoceanwater.“Iwilltakethatasthehighestcompliment.”
Icrawlacrossthesandtohelpherwithhercastle,grabbingabucketasshestartstobossmearoundaboutwhatshouldgowhere.Herearliermelancholyseemstodissipateafterourtalk,andeventhoughmyownanxiousthoughtsstillracethroughmyhead,knowingthatshe’srelativelyokaydoesmakemefeelbetter,forthemostpart.
Itellmyselfthatit’sbecauseofSophiethatIamsoworriedoverwhatAidenhadtriedtosayearlier,thatitissimplybecauseI’mafraidhewilldecideagainstmebeingtherightfitforthem,andIwillmissoutonmoretimewiththislittlegirlI’mgrowingsoattachedto.Anythingelsewouldberidiculous.Especiallyanylatentinterestinsaidlittlegirl’sfatherwhoissooff-limitshemightaswellbemyownpersonalArea51.Evenifhecontinuestoavoidme,thatisperfectlyokay,aslongasIcancontinueworkinghere.
ItrytofocusmoreonthesandcastleandlessonAidenandallthatcomeswithhim,decidingitwouldbebetterthatIstopthinkingabouthisunsaidwordsandhisunreadableglances.Thisisn’tsomethingIshouldbetryingtofigureout.IshouldbespendingthisenergyonSophie.
Cassie,actuallyI—
Yeah.Don’tthinkaboutit.
—
Wegethomethatnightalittlelaterthanexpected;Sophietalkedmeintoicecreamandthenavisittothearcadethatbledintogettingdinner.BythetimeI’mcarryingallseventy-fivepoundsofherthroughthefrontdoorbecauseshe’swornherselfout,it’snearlynine.She’soutlikealightasIstruggletogetherthroughthefrontdoor,holdinghertightwithonearmasIfumblewithmykeys.I’mjustabouttoresignmyselftowakingherupsothatIcangetusinside,butthenthedooropensonitsown,takingmebysurprise.
“Aiden?Whatareyoudoinghome?”
“Justgothere,”hesays.“Slownight.”Henoticesmestruggling,reachingtotakeSophie.“Lookslikeshehadabigday.”
“Ohyeah.”IlethimjuggleSophiefrommyarmstohis.“Shetalkedmeintoalotofsidetripsafterthebeach.”
“Yeah,”hechuckles.“She’sgoodatthat.”
I’mstillstandingontheporch.IttakesAidenasecondtorealizethis.
“Shit.Letme—”HemovesoutofthewaysoIcanstepin.“I’msureyou’re…cold.”
Andit’sonlythenthatIrealizethatI’mwearingnothingbutasheercover-upovermybikinitopandshortsthatfeelcompletelytooshortallofthesudden.Aidenclearshisthroatsasheavertshiseyes,andIsqueezepasthim,consciousofthefactthatthesee-throughblackmaterialleaveslittletotheimagination.Ithadn’tfeltlikeabigdealwhenwe’dbeenoutandabouttoday,thisisCalifornia,afterall—butfourfeetfromAidenReidwithhalfmytitsondisplaysosoonafterthenippleincidentfeelsliketoomuch.
JustthismorningIhadbeentryingtohalfwayapologizeforit,totrytocleartheairbetweenus,andnowI’mstandinginthefoyerinabikiniwhilehedoeshisbestnottolook.WhichIhavetogivehimcreditfor.Heiscurrentlyveryinterestedinthecolorofpaintontheentrywall.
“I’mgladyouguyshadagoodday,”hesaystightly.
Icrossmyarmsovermychest.“Wereallydid.Shemissedyouthough.”
“Shedid?”Hedoesglancemywaythen,anunconsciousmovementthatIdon’tthinkhecatchesuntilhe’salreadylookingrightatme.Heseemstoremembershortlyafterwhyhewasn’tinthefirstplace,avertinghiseyestothefloor.“IwishIcouldhavebeenthere.”
“Maybenexttime.”
Henods.“Maybe.”
God,dothingsreallyhavetobesoawkward?Wehavegottofigureoutawaytohandlethingslikethisifwe’regoingtolivetogether.Ihavetits.Hisfaceistailor-madetoinducebutterflies.We’lldealwithit.
“Well,anyway,”hesays.“IguessI’dbettergetSophieupto—”
“CanIaskyousomething?”
Ishouldn’t,probably.Iknowthat.Butit’sbeenonmymindallday,andwatchinghimtrysohardnottolookatmedoesn’tmakeitfeelanybetter.
Hedoesn’thesitate.“Yes.”
“What—”Ihavetotakeadeepbreathforcourage.“Whatwereyougoingtosaythismorning?BeforeSophiecamein.”
Hismouthopensonlytoclose,lipspressingtogetherforabriefmomentbeforeheanswersquietly,“IwasgoingtotellyouthatIwas.Avoidingyou.I’msorry.”
“Oh.”DefinitelynotwhatIexpected,Ithink.“Imean,Igetit.Itwassortofawkward.”
“No,Imean—”Hemakesafrustratedsound.“Iwasafraidyoufeltuncomfortable.Ididn’twanttomakeitworse.”
“I…oh.Imean…Ididn’t.Stuffhappens,right?Itwasn’tthatbigofadeal.”
“Right,”hesays.“Okay.Good.I’mgladyoudon’t…feeluncomfortable.”
“Idon’t,”Iassurehim.“Ijustdon’twantthingstobeweirdbetweenus.We’reboundtohavesomemishapshereandthere,inasituationlikeours.”
Hiseyesmeetmine,lesshesitantthanbefore.“You’reright.I’msorryifImadethingsworse.”
“Don’t.”Iwavehimoff.“I’ll,ah,trytobemorecarefultoo.Therewillbenomorenipple-relatedincidentsinthishouse.”
Shit.
Ireallyhadmeantitasajoke,buttheminuteit’soutofmymouth,I’mcursingmycompletelackoffilterwhenI’mnervous.Aiden’seyeswidenafraction,andhisthroatmovessubtlywithaswallow,andthenodhegivesmeiswooden,likeit’sforced.
“Right,”heanswers,hisvoicelowerthanamomentago.“Thatwouldbe…Yeah.”
Cassie,youreallyareaclassAdipshitsometimes.
“Anyway…IguessI’dbettergettobed.”
“Sure.”Aidennodsagain,justasrigidasbefore.“I’llgetSophieupstairstoo.”
“She’sheavierthanshelooks,”Itease.
“Mm-hmm.”
Despitewhathesays,hedoesn’tmoveasIsqueezepasthim,andIgivehimanawkwardwavebeforeslippinginsidemybedroomandclosingthedoorbehindme.Idon’tknowwhytheuniverseisintentonmakingthingsweirdbetweenAidenandme,butit’sdoingagreatjobofit.Thenagain…it’sjustabathingsuit.ThisisCalifornia.It’ssomethingAidenhassurelyseenathousandtimes.Right.It’snobigdeal.
Apparentlybrushingoffawkwardincidentswithmyhotbossisjustmynightlyroutinenow.
Great.It’sacompleteaccident.I’vedonewellsofartokeepitoutofview,andnowthatoneofmytopsubscribershasseenit—Ifeeltooexposed,embarrassed,even.
“Iknowitlooksawful.”
Myhandreachesovermyshoulder,myfingersgrazingtheroughskinofthescarthatissearedthere.IrealizeI’msittinghere,postorgasm,waitingforhimtologoffandstopcomingbackfortheseprivateshows.
“Idon’tthinkitlooksawfulatall,”hesaysfinally,andhistoneleavesnoroomforalie.Ifeelmyanxietylessening,evenmoresowhenhespeaksagain.“Ihaveascar,too,youknow.”
CHAPTER7Cassie
Becareful!I’mnotcomingupthereifyougetstuck.”
Sophielaughsfromthetopofthejunglegym.“Scaredy-cat.”
“You’llchangeyourtunewhenyouwantmetocomehelpyoudown,”Icallbackfromthebenchbesidetheplayground.
She’sbeenplayingfornearlyanhournowwhileIworkonanassignmentonmylaptop,makingsuretocheckonhereveryfewsecondstoensureshe’sstillokay
She’sgoingtohatehearingthatwe’llneedtogofindlunchinabit;Icanalreadyhearhergroaningaboutnotwantingtoleave.Imakeamentalnotetobringherbackheresoon.Ithinkit’sgoodthatshe’sbeenabletoplaywithsomekidsherageaswell,knowingbyherownadmissionthatsheisstillstrugglingtofindfriendsatherschool.
WhenI’mdonewithmyassignment,Itakeasecondtocheckmyemails,grimacingwhenInoticeIhaveanewonefromOnlyFansnudgingmeaboutsomespecialtheyhavegoingon.Istillgetthemregularly,andIknowIshouldunsubscribefromtheirmailinglist,butIhaven’tyet.It’snotlikeIhaveanyplanstoreturn,andIdon’tevenhaveanyneedto,withwhatAidenispayingmenow,butevenayearafterdeactivatingeverything,Ican’tbringmyselftoputitfullybehindme.It’ssilly,Iknowthat;itisn’tlikethere’sevenapossibilityanymoreforanyonetocontactmethroughthesite,butevenknowingthat,hereIamstillwistfullydeletingemailsthatservenopurpose.
IpackmylaptopawayinmycarryingcaseafterIdeletethemessage,becauseIdo,asalways—disregardingmybriefdipintobadmemoriesandwalkingovertotheswingsetwhereSophiehasmigrated.Sheisabetterobjectofmyattention,anyway.IsetmycasenearbyonthegroundwhereIcanseeit,takingtheemptyswingbesideSophieandsettlingintoit.
“Betyoucan’tgoashighasme,”shechallenges.
“Oh,Ihavenodoubts,”Itellher.“Youseemwaymoreadvancedatswingingthanme.”
Shegrins.“Yep.”
“Areyouhavingfun?”
“Yes!Canwecomebackafterschooltomorrow?”
“I’dbewillingtobetwecould,”Itellherwithagrin.“Maybewecaninviteyourdad?”
Herexpressionimmediatelyfalters.“He’llbetoobusy.”
“Maybenot,”Itry.“Hecan’tbethisbusyforever.”
“Iguess,”shegrumbles.
Istraightentheswing,startingtoswaybackwardandforwardslightly.“Haveyoutriedtalkingtoyourdadaboutthis?I’msurehe’dwanttoknowhowyoufeel.”
“Idon’twanttomakehimmad,”sheadmitsquietly.
“Idon’tthinkhe’dgetmad.Yourdaddoesn’tseemlikethetypetobemadaboutsomethinglikethat.Helovesyou,youknow?”
Shegivesmeanotherslownod.“Iknow.He’sjustbusy.”
Againthere’sthatpanginmychestasI’mthrustbackintoburiedmemoriesofputtingmyselftobed,andittakeseverythingIhavenottoletmyfeelingsswaymyconversationwithSophie,knowingmybiasisn’tfairtoherorAiden.IknowAidenisdifferentfrommyparents,thathisabsenceisanoversight,notaconsciouschoice.
“Whydon’twegofindsomelunch,”Isay,wantingtopullheroutofherdarkeningmood.“You’vegottabehungryafterallthatclimbing.”
“Iamkindahungry,”sheadmits.
“Allrightthen.”Ipushupfromtheswingtoretrievemylaptopcase.“Westillneedtostopbythebookstore,too,butafterthat,we’dbettergetyousomefood.Havetoprotectmyanklesandall.”
“Idon’tbite,”shegiggles.
Icluckmytongue.“Saysyou.”
“Canwehavepizza?”
“Wehadpizzayesterday.”
“ButIwantit,”shepouts.
“Oh,well,whenyouputitthatway,”Ilaugh.
—
CanIcarrythepizza?”
“It’stoohot,”Itellher.“You’reinchargeofthebooks.”
She’spickedoutthreebooksabouttalkingpumpkins,friendlymonsters,andalostunicorn,respectively,guardingthemlikeherlifedependsonit.
“Icandoboth.”
“I’vegotit.We’realmosthome,anyway.”
“Icandoit,”sheargues.
“Yes,butthenyoumightburnyourhands,andyou’llusethatasanexcusenottohelpwiththedishes.”
“Iwillnot!”
Ifeignsuspicion.“Idon’tknow…soundslikeatraptome.”
“You’resoweird,”shehuffs.
“TellmesomethingIdon’tknow,kid.”
“Okay,butwhenwegethomeIwanna—”
“Sophie?”
Webothpauseonthesidewalk,noticingafamiliarfigurelingeringoutsideofthegateinfrontofthetownhouseholdingapapersack.Aidenhadn’tsaidanythingaboutIrisvisitingtoday,soitthrowsmetoseeherhere,andImomentarilyfalterbeforeIpasteonasmile.“Hey!Whatbringsyouby?”
“Idon’tneedareasontocheckonmyniece,”Irissaysbluntly.
Yikes.
“Well,no,”Iofferwithanawkwardlaugh.“Iguessnot.Ijustthoughtifyouletmeknowaheadoftimenexttime,I’llmakesuretohaveherbackheresooner.”
“Mm-hmm.”IrisgivesSophieasmilethen.“Can’tyougiveyourauntahug?”
Sophiegrinsback,bridgingthegapbetweenustohugIris.
“Howwasschoolthisweek,honeybear?”
Sophieshrugs.“Itwasokay.”
“Madeanyfriendsyet?”
“Notreally,”Sophiesighs.
“Youwill,”Irisurgessweetly.ShereallyisadifferentpersonwithSophie.“Don’tworry.”
“Ibroughtyousomebooks,”Irissays.SheeyesthepileinSophie’sarms.“Iseesomeonebeatmetoitthough.”
Iamseriouslynotwinninganybrowniepointswiththiswoman.
“That’sokay,”Sophiesays.“Cassiecanreadyourstoo.”
“I’lljustbetshecan,”Irisanswers.
SophietakesthesackIrisisholdingandgrinsatme,andIdomybesttoreturnit.IhavenoideahowtohandlethisstrangesituationI’vegottenmixedupin,butItrytolookunbotheredforSophie’ssakeasImovetowardher.
“Hey,Soph,doyoumindtakingthepizzainside?I’llberightbehindyou.”Ihesitatebeforehandingherthebox.“Butbecareful,”Iwarn.“It’sstillhot.”
“Okay,”Sophiesaysbrightly,takingtheboxfrommeandbalancingherbooksontopbeforelookingbackatheraunt.“Bye,AuntIris.”
“Bye,sweetheart.I’llseeyousoon.”
NeitherofussaysawordasSophiemovesthroughthegate,Iriswaitinguntilshe’ssafelyinsidethehousebeforeshespeaksagain,herearliersweettonenowheretobefound.
“Inoticeherdadisn’taroundagain.”
“He’sworking.”
Irislaughs,butit’soff.“He’salwaysworking.”
“I’msorry,butIdon’tthinkit’sabadthingthathe’sprovidingforhiskid.”
Iris’seyebrowsshootup.“Whydoyoucare?You’rejustthenanny.”Iwatchasherexpressionturnscurious.“Unlessyou’remore…investedsomehow.Whatexactlyisyourrolehere?”
“I’mheretotakecareofSophie,”Itellher.“Look,itfeelslikewegotoffonthewrongfoot.IwouldneverthinkofgettinginthewayofyourrelationshipwithSophie.Sheneedsalltheloveshecanget,Iimagine.Idon’twanthertobeconfused.”
“I’msureshe’salreadyconfused,giventhatherdadcan’tbebotheredtospendanyrealtimewithher.”
Icrossmyarms.“That’snotfair.”
“Therearealotofthingsaboutthissituationthataren’tfair,”Irisanswersbitterly.
“Listen,IthinkIgetwhereyou’recomingfrom,butyoucan’t—”
“YouhavenoideawhereI’mcomingfrom,”shesays,cuttingmeoff.“Youdon’tknowme.YoubarelyknowSophie.Idon’tknowwhatAidenhastoldyou,butheisn’t—”
“Hey.”
Sheblinksinsurprise,lookingasshockedbymyoutburstasIam.
“Sorry,”Isaymorequietly.“ButIcan’tsithereandlistentoyoubad-mouthherdadtome.You’reright.Idon’tknowSophieandAidenthatwellyet,butIcantellhe’strying.Imean,he’sherdad.Don’tyouthinkbeingwithhimiswhat’sbestforher?”
Irislooksatmeforalongmoment,almostlikeshe’stryingtofiguremeout.“Idon’tneedalecturefromyou,”shesaysfinally.“Youdon’tknowanything.Aboutanyofthis.Frankly,it’snoneofyourbusiness.”
“Whetheryoulikeitornot,Sophieismybusiness,”Icounter.“It’smyjobtolookafterher,andyourandomlydroppingbymakesitmybusiness.”
“It’sfunny,”Irisnotesafterashorttime.“You’remuchyoungerthananyoftheothernanniesSophiehashad.Prettiertoo.Iwonderwhythatis?”
Whatshe’ssayingmakesmyearsfeelhot,butIdecideIdon’thavetovalidateherinsinuationswitharetort.
“Ithinkyoushouldleave,”IsayaspolitelyasIcanmanage.“Clearly,you’reupset.”
“Upset,”Irischucklesdryly,stilllookingatmeinawaythatmakesmefeelicky.“Sure.TellAidenI’llbeintouch.”
Iwatchherstalkofftowardwhatseemstobehercardownthestreet,waitinguntilshe’stuckedintothedriver’sseatandpullingawaybeforeIheadinside,cursingundermybreaththeentireway.Ican’tfathomwhatIcouldhavedoneinthetwoinstancesofmeetingIristomakeherloatheme,butit’sclearthatpolitetalkandpasted-onsmilesaren’tgoingtoputadentinthechipshe’scarryingonhershoulder.God,evenwhenImakeitinside,I’mstillrattled,recognizingthatIriswasonthemoneyaboutonethingatleast.IammoreinvestedinthisthanIshouldbe.
AndIthoughtitwasgoingtobeweirdtalkingtoAidenaboutSophie’sfeelings.
—
ImadesurethatIwasfullydressedthistime,braandall.Ihadthiswholespeechplannedout,whenIdecidedtowaitupforAidenonthesecondfloorafterSophiewenttobed,thinkingthatIwouldhaveaquickchatabouteverythingSophieandItalkedaboutandthentackonacarefulmentionattheendofmymostrecentencounterwithIris.Easypeasy.
Ididn’t,however,intendtopassoutonthecouchlongbeforeheshowedup.
Idon’tknowwhattimeitiswhenIcometo,wokenbythesoundofhissedcursingandsomethinghittingthecounterinthekitchen.IblinkinthedarknessasIliftmyheadsleepily,noticingaglowfromtheventhoodoftheovenofferingonlyalittlelight.Thesightthereimmediatelyrousesmefrommyhalf-asleepstate,goingcompletelystillwhenInoticethat,forsomereason—Aidenisstandingshirtlessinthekitchen.
IttakesmeamomenttopiecetogetherwhatI’mseeing:AidenholdingwhatIassumeishisshirtinhishandasheusesittomopupsomethingfromthecounter.There’sabeercansittingnearbythatIcanjustmakeout,andIreasonthathemusthavespilledsomeanddecidedhisshirtwasthebestbetincleaningitup.Notthemostsensiblecourseofaction,Ithink,butwhoamItojudge?IknowIshouldsaysomething,thatIshoulddosomethingtomakehimawareofthefactthatI’mfrozenonhiscouchinthedarklivingroom,butI’mfindingitalotmoredifficultthanitshouldbe.
EspeciallysinceIcan’tseemtotearmyeyesawayfromhisshirtlessstate.
Icanonlyseehimfromthechestupfromthissideofthecounter,butwhatIcanseesuggeststhatallthosetripstothegymhave…reallypaidoff.Aidenlooksfirminalltherightplaces,elicitinganurgetotouchthehardlinesandcutridgesinawaythatisabsolutelynotappropriateforsomeonelookingattheiremployer.Notthatanyonewouldblameme,Ithink,iftheywereseeingwhatI’mseeing.Aidensaysanotherfilthywordinthatsamequietvoicethathadwokenmeup,andeverythingaboutitmakesmefeelthingsthatarealsowhollyinappropriate.
Itisn’tfairthatheissogood-looking.Pairedwiththefactthathe’ssweetandfunnyanddoinghisbestasasingledad…myovariesareformingtheirownfanclubatthispoint.
IknowthelongerIsitherethemoreawkwarditwillbewhenhefinallynoticesme,anddespitetheurgetoquietlywatchhimuntilheescapesupstairs,IknowIwaitedupforhimforareason.
“Aiden?”
Hestartles,facewhippinguptopeerintothelivingroom,shirtstillclutchedtightlyinhishand.“Cassie?”
“Sorry,”Ioffer,pushingupfromthecouchtoasittingposition.“Ifellasleeponthecouch.”
“Oh.That’s…”Helooksdownathimselfasifrememberingthathe’shalf-naked,standingupstraighterandbringingwhatIassumeisawetshirttohischesttooffersomecoverage.Notthatithelps.“Ispilledmydrink.”
“Yeah.Icanseethat.”
“Ishould…getanothershirt.SorryifIwokeyouup.”
“Aiden,wait.”
Hestopsmidstep,stillbehindthecounterashewatchesmeslideoffthecouch.IpullmyrobetighterasIapproachthekitchen,thinkingthatatleastoneofuswon’tbeexposingourselvestotheothertonight.
“Iactuallywantedtotalktoyou,”Istart.“That’swhyIwaswaitingonthecouch.”
IhavenoideahowIwillbeabletohavethisconversationwhenIcanseeAiden’snipples.
Howthetableshaveturned,Ithinkidly.
“Whatdidyouwanttotalkabout?”
“It’saboutSophie.”
Heimmediatelylooksconcerned.“Issheokay?Didsomethinghappen?”
“She’sfine,don’tworry,”Iassurehim.“It’sjust…she’sbeentalking.Abouthowmuchshemissesyouwhenyouaren’there.”
Iseehisexpressionfallimmediately,almostmakingmeregretmydecisiontotalktohim.“Oh.”
“Idon’tevenknowifit’smyplacetosayanyofthis,butithurtsmyhearthearinghowmuchshemissesyou.”
“No,I’mgladyoutoldme,butIdon’tknowhowIcanchangeitrightnow.Itoldyouthatwehadalotofthingsgoingonattherestaurant.”
“Iknow,”Ipress.“Butitreallyseemstobetakingatollonher.”
“Well.Ididtellyouthatmyjobwasanightmaresometimes.”
“AndItotallygetthat,”Isaycarefully.“But…lately,evenontheweekendwhenshe’shereallday,you’vebeenshippingofftotherestaurantpracticallyrightafterbreakfast.Ifnotearlier.”
“It’snotsomethingIcanexactlycontrol,”hesayswearily.“It’smyjob.Ican’tjustsay,‘Pissoff,’toit.”
“I’mnottryingtolectureyou,”Iassurehim.“I’mjustworriedabouther.Icantellshedoesn’tliketotalkabouthermother,but…whenyou’renothere,itmakesSophiemisshermore.”
Aiden’smouthparts,hisexpressionsoftening.“Shetoldyouthat?”
“Shedid,”Itellhimgently.
Aidenscrubshishanddownhisface.“ShenevertalksaboutRebecca.Never.I’malwaystryingtogethertoopenup,butshe—”Hecloseshiseyes,takingadeepbreath.“Shealwaysactslikeshe’sfine.”
“Ithinksheworriesaboutyou,”Iventure.“Ithinkshe’safraidofhowherfeelingsmightmakeyoufeel.”
Helaughsbitterly.“EvenmyowndaughterthinksI’mnotfittotakecareofher.”
“Hey.No.”Itakeastep,havingtostopmyselffromgoingtohim.Iknowthat’snotmyplace.“Idon’tthinkthat’sthecaseatall,Aiden.Ijustthinkthatsheisthinkingofyourfeelingsjustasmuchasyou’rethinkingofhers.”
“Ireallyamtrying,”hesays.“IknowthatIrisprobablythinksI’mtheshittiestdadintheworld,andmaybeIwasthereforawhile,but…I’mtrying.”
“Ibelieveyou,”Isay,becauseIdo.“I’msureit’shardertoknowwhattodowithsomeonelikeSophie.Sheseemssotough.”
“Shedoes,”heagrees.“Tougherthanme.”Heshakeshishead.“Thisprobablyisn’twhatyousignedupfor,”hesayswithadrylaugh.“I’msureyoudidn’ttakethejobexpectingtohavetobeafamilytherapist.”
“No,it’sokay.Really.Icanjustsendyouanotherbill,”Isay,tryingforsomelevity.
I’mrewardedwithachokedlaugh.“Right.”
“Listen,Ifeelterribletobedumpingallofthisonyouontopofeverythingelseyou’redealingwith,butIjust…”IcanseetheexhaustiononAiden’sface,andnotonlyfromahardday.Icanseeanexhaustionthatseemstoweighonhimfromtheinsideout.“Ireallycareaboutyouguys.”Hiseyeswidenafraction,andIavertmygaze.“IjustknowalittlebitabouthowSophiefeels,andIdon’twanthertoevergrowupwithregretslikeIdid.You,either,forthatmatter.”
“Idon’twantthateither,”hestresses.“AndI’msorryforbringingupbadfeelingsforyou.”
“Oh,no,it’s—”Mymouthdriftsclosedasmemoriescropupunbidden,andIfeelsomethingheavyinmychest.“You’renothinglikemyparents,Aiden.Ipromiseyou.”
“Wasitthatbad?”
“Worse.”Ihuffoutabitterlaugh.“Myparentswereshit.TheentiretimeIwasgrowingup,Ihadtohearabouthowtheonlyreasontheyhadtoworksohardwasbecauseofme.LikeIwassomesortofburden.Imean,theydidn’twantmefromthestart.”
Aiden’sbrowknitsinsympathy.“Theydidn’t?”
“IguessIshouldcountmyselfluckythattheyweresoreligious,”Isnort.“Mightnotbehereotherwise.”
“Cassie…”Icantellhe’sstrugglingwithwhattosay,andIcan’tbelieveI’mactuallyblurtingallofthisout.Normally,Idomybesttoavoidtalkingaboutitatall.“I’msosorry.”
“It’sfine,”Ianswerflippantly,ignoringtheslightacheinmychest.“I’monlytellingyouthisbecausemyparents…theywereneverthere.Iputmyselftobed,Imademyowndinner,Ispentweekendstalkingtoaridiculousnumberofimaginaryfriendsjusttosimulatesomesortofhumancontact.Thatkindoflonelinesscanreallyfuckakidup.”Igivehimapointedlookthen.“Butyouaren’tthem.AndIknowthatbecauseIknowwhatshittyparentswhodon’tcarelooklike.Iknowyoucare,Aiden.”
Aidenislookingatmestrangely,likehe’sseeingmorethanI’dlikehimto.Ifeelmildlyembarrassedforoversharingnow,wishingthathe’dsaysomethingtocleartheair.
“I’msorry,”Aidensaysagainafterabeat.“Ididn’t…Ireallyappreciateyoutellingmethis.”
Itakeadeepbreath.“I’msorryifIoverstepped.”
“No,I…you’reright,”Aidengoeson.“Ofcourseyou’reright.I’mdoingashitjobatthis.”
“No,you’renot,”Iargue.“You’rehuman,Aiden.It’sokaynottogetitperfect.Ijust…thoughtyouwouldwanttoknow.HowmuchSophiemissesyouwhenyouaren’there.”
Aidenhangshishead,reachingtorunhisfingersthroughhishairinexasperationasheheavesoutasigh.“Iknow.Ineedtodobetter.”
“I’mnottryingtomakeyoufeelbad,”Iassurehim.Ichewattheinsideofmylip,afraidofoversteppingagain.“Ijustwanttoseeyouguyshappy,that’sall.”
ThewayAidenislookingatmemakesmyskinwarm,hisexpressionsofteningintosomethingthatisfartooheavyforwhatweare.Itmakesmefeeldizzy.
“I’msorryyouhadtopickatoldwounds,”hesayssoftly,breakingthespellslightly.“ButIappreciateyousharingwithme.”
“It’sfine,”Ianswersoftly.“It’sallinthepastnow.”
“Still,”hesays.Imeethiseyes,andthatsamewarmththreatenstodomein.“Thankyou.”
IrememberthenthatIhadanotherreasonforwaitingforhim,anditfeelsalmostcrueltotackonanotherheavyload,oneaftertheother.Besttoripitofflikeabandage,Iguess.
“Right.Also,Ishouldtellyou…”Imakeaface.“Iriscamebacktoday.”
“Ofcourseshedid.”Hebreathesindeepjusttoblowitout.“I’vetriedtoconvincehertocheckinwithmefirstbeforeshevisits,butsometimesshelikestobedifficult.Ithinkshe’dlovetoprovewhatashitdadIam.”
“You’renotashitdad,”Istress.“Itoldyou,remember?Allkidswantisforyoutotry.”
Henodssolemnly.“Icandobetter.Ican.I’llmakesuretobeheremore.WhenI’msupposedtobeoff.Ipromise.”
“Sophiewouldlovethat.”
SowouldI,Idon’tsay.
Ifidget,knowingIshouldsaymorebutunsureofhowtobroachit.IrubatmyarmidlyasIfrowndownatmyfeet,clearingmythroat.
“Anyway,IthoughtIshouldtellyouthatIrismadesome…insinuations,”Igoon.“Aboutme.”
“What?”Aiden’sexpressionturnshard.“Whatdidshesaytoyou?”
“Well,shewasbad-mouthingyou,andIjustwantedtodefendyou,andshemighthave…madetheimplicationthatIwas…moreinvolvedthanIshouldbe.”
Aidendoesn’timmediatelycatchmydrift.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“She…”God,he’sgoingtomakemesayit.“Ithinkshemighthavebeenimplyingthattherewassomething…inappropriategoingonbetweenus.”
“What?”
“Iknow,ridiculous,but…Ididn’twanttosomehowbesomethingsheusesagainstyou,soIthoughtyoushouldknow.”
“Right.”Inoticehisthroatbobwithaswallow.“Ridiculous.”
Ouch.Imean,IknowIjustsaidit,buthearinghimrepeatitstings.
“Ijustthoughtyoushouldknow.Idon’tknow…maybewecouldworkoutsomesortofscheduleforIristocomebymore.I’msureSophiewouldlovetodomorethingswithheraunt.”
“Maybethat’sagoodidea,”Aidenmuses.“Ishouldtalktoher.”
“Itcouldn’thurt,”Ioffer.
Hestilllooksalittleoutofsorts.“Youdefendedme?”
Istopmidturninmyattempttoquicklyretreat.“I…Yes?”
“Youdidn’thavetodothat.”
“Ididn’tsayanythingIdidn’tthinkwastrue.”
“Oh.I…appreciatethat.”
“Itoldyou,”Iurge.“Youareagooddad,Aiden.Ipromise.”
Henodsslowly,lookingatmewithanexpressionIcan’tread.IdecideIshouldretreatlikeIplanned,notwantingtomakethisencounteranymoreawkwardthanitalreadyis.
“I’mstartingtothinkweshouldn’thavediscussionsaftereleveno’clock,”Isaywithalaugh.
Hislipstwitch.“Theydoseemtoalwaysgosouth,somehow.”
“Yeah.Well.I’dbettergettobed.”
“Sure.”Hestartstomovefromhissideofthecounter,andIhavetotrytonotletmyeyesdriftsouthwhenIamremindedthathestillisn’twearingashirt.“I’llmakesomecallsinthemorningsoIcanbehereforbreakfast.AndI’lltalktoIris.Ipromise.”
“IdefinitelythinkSophiewillbe—”
IforgeteverythingIwasabouttosaywhenAidenroundsthecorner,andithasabsolutelynothingtodowiththefactthatheisn’twearingashirt.Icanbarelymakeitoutinthislight,butevenhavingneverseenitbefore,itmakesmyheartstarttopoundinmychestandmybloodstarttorushinmyears.Idon’tknowhowlongittakesAidentorealizeI’mstaringattheplacetotheleftofhisnavel,hisskindarkerthere,moreraised.
“Oh,”helaughs.“Iknowitlooksweird.I’vehaditforever.”
“It’s…aheart.”
“Yeah,itlookslikeone,doesn’tit?Igotitinculinaryschool.”Hetouchesthescarabsently.“Idroppedhotoilonmyself.Damnedpanslippedrightoutofmyhand.Notmybestmomentasachef.”
Idon’tthinkI’mactuallybreathing;everythinghe’ssayingonlymakesmypanicworse.Itseemsimpossible,whatI’mseeing,whatI’mhearing—thecoincidenceofitalltoomuchtocomprehend.Myeyesremaingluedtotheheart-shapedburnonhisabdomenforlongerthanisappropriate,andIfinallytearthemawaytomeetAiden’sincreasinglyconfused-lookingface.
“I’mtired,”Iblurtout,mykneesfeelingoddlyweak.“I’dbettergettobed.”
“Oh…kay,”hesaysslowly,probablywonderingwhyI’mactingweirdallofasudden.
Ican’thelpit.Ineedtogetaway.
“Goodnight,Aiden,”IsayquicklyasIturnawayfromhim,hisscarstillfreshinmymindalongwithallthememoriesattachedtoit.
No,no,no,thiscan’tbehappening.
Ifhethinksmehalfsprintingdownthestairsisstrange,hedoesn’tcomeaftermetoaskaboutit.Idon’tslowdownuntilI’msafeinmyroom,myheartbeatingoutofmychestasIcrosstositattheedgeofmybedinadaze.
“Ihaveascar,too,youknow.”
“Really?Ibetit’snotasbadasmine.”
“It’sprettybig.Anditlookslikeaheart,whichmeansitdoesn’tevenlookcool.”
“Howdidyougetit?”
“IdroppedhotoilonmyselfafewyearsagowhileIwascooking.Notmybestmoment.”
It’sastoryI’veheardbefore.AstoryI’veheardmurmuredthroughacomputermicfromamanwhosefaceI’veneverseen.Amanwho—untilhesuddenlydisappearedfromourmessagethreadsandsubsequentlymyentirelife—hadalmostmademebelievehemighthavecaredaboutme.
I’dknownhimasA.Isn’titridiculousthatIcouldhavemisplacedhisvoiceinonlyayear?ThatIdidn’tmaketheconnectionuntilrightnow?IthoughtwhenhedisappeareditwasjustabadexperienceIwasgoingtohavetochalkuptona?veté,theconsequencesofallowingmyselftogrowtooclosetosomeonewhowasultimatelypayingtowatchmecome.AndhereIam,ayearlater,stillunabletounsubscribefromOnlyFansemailsbecauseofsomesillyfantasythathewillsomehowtrytofindmeafterallthistime,eventhoughitwouldbenearlyimpossibleevenifhewantedto,giventhatInukedmyaccountinsomepitifulpost-breakup-likedepressiveepisode.Whichmakesnosense,sincewewereneveractuallytogether.HewasjustsomeguyIdeludedmyselfintothinkingIknewbetterthanIdid.JustsomeoneIhadneverseenandthoughtIneverwouldsee.WhichI’mrealizingnowisn’tthecaseatall.
Thetruthisobvious,Ithink,asterrifyingasthatis.ThatmytimeonlinethatIthoughtwaswellbehindmehasbroughtitselffrontandcenterintheformoftheveryreasonthatmademeleaveitinthefirstplace.Themanwhohadmademefeelsomethingandthenmademefeelutterlystupidfordoingsowhenheloggedoffandnevercameback.
BecauseAidenReid,very-hot-but-very-off-limitsboss,usedtowatchmychannel.
Heusedtowatchitalot.Chatwith@lovecici
Didyoulikethevideo?
ItwaseverythingIwanted.
Gladyouliked.
Imightbegettingaddictedtowatchingyoucome.
CHAPTER8Aiden
TwentyminutesafterCassiewenttobed,I’mstilltryingtofigureoutwhatIdidwrong,mullingitoverintheshower.Iknowshe’srightabouteverything,thatI’vebeengettinginmyownwaywhenitcomestoSophieandeventhesituationwithIris,andImeantitwhenIsaidIwouldtakestepstorectifyit.Ithoughtthatithadgonerelativelywell,thediscussionbetweenCassieandme,whichmeansIcan’tfigureouthowitgotweirdthereattheveryend.
Evenafterourtenseconversation,itfeltbytheendthatwe’dsomehowmendedthings,orsoIthought.Sowhydidsherunofflikethat?Ican’tstopthinkingaboutthelookonherface—somethinglikesurpriseandpanic,andnomatterhowmanytimesIgooveritinmyhead,Ican’tmakesenseofit.It’safarcryfromthewayshe’dlookedatmebeforethat,atleast.
That’ssomethingIcan’texactlygetoutofmyheadeither.
Therehadbeenalingeringwayabouthowshe’dlookedatme,andsure,Ihadn’texpectedtobesurprisedbyhersolateatnightwhilebeingshirtlessinmykitchenafteraquickbutdumbdecision,butIknowI’mnotimaginingthewayCassielookedatme.I’mwellawarethatIshouldn’tbeacknowledgingit,thatIshouldbeactivelyignoringit,butIwouldbelyingifIweretopretendthatIwasdoinganyofthethingsthatIshouldbe.
Maybeitmakesmeacreep,thethingsIcan’thelpbutthinkabouther.Itprobablydoes,Iknowthat,butsurelyitcountsforsomethingthatIhavebeenactivelytryingincrediblyfuckinghardtoburythosethings.Especiallygivenour…incident.Thatnightwhenshe’dtoldmeaboutherfirstrun-inwithIris.
Ipressmyheadagainsttheinnerwalloftheshower,closingmyeyesasthewaterdripsdownmyhair.It’snotsomethingIdoonpurpose,recallinghertoo-tightT-shirtinsoftpink,shapingagainstpartsofherI’mnotsupposedtohaveseen.Infact,I’vedoneeverythingIcaninthelastweektoavoidremembering,includingkeepingmydistancefromCassieasmuchaspossible.BecauseIshouldn’tthinkabouthersoftmouthtellingmesheisn’tgoinganywhere,oraboutherblushwhenshe’dmisspokenthatweshouldgotobed,andIdefinitelyshouldn’tberecallingtheshapeofhertightlittlenipplespressingagainsthershirteverytimeIclosemyfuckingeyes.
It’sabsolutetorture,tryingtoactivelynotbeacreep.
Iblastthecoldwateronmyselftotrytocombatmytraitorousthoughts,shiveringabitinthespraybeforeshuttingitoffaltogether.Ithelps,butonlyalittle.I’mstillwonderingwhatitisthatmadeCassie’smoodshiftsoquickly,andwhatitwasthathadherpracticallysprintingawayfrommeonlysecondsafterwewerelaughingtogether.Iglancedownatthedarkenedskinofmyscaratmyabdomen,frowning.Itwasalmostlikeshe’dbeenspookedbyit,butbyanyaccount,thatdoesn’tmakesense.
It’sincrediblylatebythetimeI’mtoweledoffanddressed,myeyesburningwithaneedtosleepasIshuffledownthehallwayfrommybedroomtoSophie’ssoIcanpeekinside.She’ssprawledonherbedlikeastarfish,onelegpokingoutfromunderneathhercomforterasshesnoressoftly.IsmileasIcrossthecarpetquietlytoleanoverandkissherforehead,recallingallofthethingsCassiesaidandfeelingthatfamiliarpangofguiltinmychest.
Thatkindoflonelinesscanreallyfuckakidup.
Imakeanothersilentaffirmationtobeheremore.IknowSophiedeservesthat.
IbackoutofSophie’sroomjustasquietly,sighingsoftlytomyselfasIpullherdoorshutbehindme.I’monthethirdfloor,butmythoughtsaretwofloorslower,whereIknowtheyshouldn’tbe.It’sridiculoustoevenentertainthethoughtofgoingdownstairstocheckonCassie,eventomethatsoundslikeaterribleidea,andIstowthethoughtawayasItrodofftomyownbedroom.It’swellaftermidnight,andIknowIshouldgetsomesleepafterthedayI’vehad,especiallygiventhattomorrownightwillbeashitshowsinceIpromisedIwouldn’tgoinearly,butevenwhenI’mtuckedintomybed,Ican’tseemtoshutmybrainoff.
Youareagooddad,Aiden.Ipromise.
Whydoesitfeelsoimportanttomethatshethinksso?
Iclosemyeyes,lettingmyheadthunkagainsttheheadboard.Imightbeinrealtrouble.ItoldCassiethatI’dbeenavoidingherforhersake,andsure,that’spartiallytrue,butthewholetruthofitisthatI’vebeenavoidingCassiebecauseafterthatnight,Ihaven’tbeenthinkingaboutherinthewayabossshould.Especiallygivenoursituation.ThewayI’vebeenthinkingaboutCassiewouldhaveherquittinginaninstant,andgiventhatsheseemstobethefirstnannySophiehaseveractuallylikedhavingaround,that’snotsomethingIcanrisk.Ilaughbitterlytomyself,thinkingthatIhavearealwayofpickingtheworstwomentobeinterestedin.
It’salwaystheonesthatIshouldn’tbeinvolvingmyselfwiththatseemtocatchmyeye.
MyfingertipsruckuptheedgeofmyshirtbeforetheybegintotracethepuckerededgesofmyscarasIthinkbacktoanothertimewhenI’dtoldawomanI’dbeguntocareforaboutit.It’snowonderthatCassie’sreactionwouldbringupmemoriesofthewomanItrysohardnottothinkaboutonanygivenday;she’dbeenassurprisedtohearaboutitasCassiewastoseeit.Cometothinkofit,IthinkthewomaninquestionmightbethelastpersonI’vetalkedaboutitto.Somedesperateattempttoconnectwithapersonwhohadbeenvulnerableaboutherownscars.NowthatwasthedumbestthingI’veeverdone.
IhadbeennostrangertothephenomenonthatwasOnlyFanswhenitblewup.Itseemedlikeeveryonehadheardofit,attheveryleast,andIwasnoexception.It’sjustthatbeforeIwentlooking,IthoughtitwassomethingIwasn’tinterestedin.
Ithinkmaybeithadgottentome,thelonelinessthatcomesfrommypackedworkschedulethatmadeitsohardtomeetpeople.Maybethat’showIendedupsurfingOnlyFanslateonenightatthesuggestionofacoworker.I’dfoundherprofilebycompleteaccident,somethingaboutherdrawingmeineventhoughshekeptherfacehalf-coveredbyamask
Itstartedwithinnocentscrolling,checkingouthernonsubscriberfeed,whichhadbeendesignedtomakeyouwanttobecomeanactualsubscriber.WhichIdid,obviously.Ithadn’ttakenanythingatalltogetmetodothat.Atfirst,Iwouldjustbuyhervideoswhentheycameout.Theywerealwayssolosessions,alwaysher,frontandcenterandsettosomesoftmusic,butsomethingaboutthiswomanwhosefaceIcouldn’tseeandwhosehairalwayssatcoveredundersomebrightwig…somethingaboutherhookedme.
SoIstartedpayingforprivateshows.Actually,that’slaughable.Istartedpayingforalotofprivateshows.ItwassoeasytohopovertoSkypewithmycameraoff.Soeasytoindulgeinthefantasyofashowputonjustforme.LikeIwastheonlypersonintheworld,asfarasshewasconcerned.Ithinkitwastheideaofsharingherwithotherviewerslikemethatmademefeel…jealous.Somehow.Andisn’tthatoutrageous?Isn’titridiculousthatIwouldstarttoromanticizemyencounterswithawomanIwaspayingtowatchtouchherself?
Except…sheseemedlonelytoo.Sheeventoldmeso.Morethanonce.Maybethat’swhatmadeeverythingseemlikemorethanitwasinmyhead.ItwaseasytoletmyselfbelievethatIwasspecialtoher,butitwasneverreal.Sheneverhadplanstomeetmeinperson.Evenifshepretendedto.Herdisappearingcompletelywasevidenceenoughofthat.
Icanstillrememberthesoftcurvesofherbodyevennow,hipsthatbeggedformyhands,andbreaststhatbeggedformymouth,andwhenshetouchedherself,whenherslimlittlefingersslippedbetweenwetfoldstoteasemenightafternight…well.It’snowonderIbecamealittleobsessed.Especiallywhenthereweresomanynightswhenitfeltlikeitwasallforme.
Thememoryaloneisenoughtomakemestiffeninmypajamapants,anachebuildingthereasthethoughtofawomanwhosenameIneverknewis,asalways,enoughtomakemehard.Evenafterallthistime,shestillaffectsme.She’dgonebyCici,butI’mnotdenseenoughtothinkshe’dgivenmeherrealname.It’sanotherreminderthatithadallbeenafantasy.
IhissbetweenmyteethasIpressmypalmagainstthestrainingcotton,feelingpatheticforresortingtothisbutknowingthattherearen’tmanyotheroptionsofreleaseformeatthisstageofmylife.BetweenthedemandsofmyjobandSophie…therehasn’texactlybeentimefordating.MyeyesflutterandmyteethpressagainstmylowerlipwhenIreachinsidemypantstowrapmyfingersaroundtheheatofmycock,ashakybreathescapingmewhenIstarttopumpmyfistupanddowntorelievesomeofthepressure.Icanfeelslickliquidbeadingatthetipthatcoatstheinsideofmyfisttoglidebackdownthelength.InmyheadIamsafeinthememoryofthatmaskedwomanwithafakename,herfingersteasingbetweenherlegsandpinchingathernipplesallforme,justforme.
EventhenIhadthoughtaboutwhatshewouldfeellikeifIwereeverabletotouchher.Ifitweremyhandsteasingher,insteadofhers.ItwassomethingthatIhadalmostthoughtwasapossibilityattheend.ShehadmademefeellikeshewantedmeasmuchasIhadwantedher.Sowheredidshego?Ihadn’tbeengoneverylong,hadI?WhileIwasdealingwithRebecca’sdeath?WhyhadshecompletelydisappearedwhenIcamebacktoapologize?
Becauseithadneverbeenreal.
IgritmyteethasIworkfaster,atightnessinmychestasmypulseracesandmybloodrushesfasterwiththeincreasingpleasurethatpoolswitheverystrokeofmyfist.Icanfeelit,likeahotpressurethatbuildsandbuildsandbuilds,myheadfallingbackasmylipspartwithshortburstsofairescapingme.
I’mtryingtofocusonthememory,theonethatissafeinmyhead—clingingtothatfacelesswomanwithhersoftcurvesandherperfectbodyandprettytitsthatIstilldreamaboutsometimes,butmythoughtsaredriftingelsewherebeyondmycontrol.Driftingtothoughtsofsoftcottonstretchedtightovertheshapeoftighternipples.Idon’tmeantothinkofher,Ireallydon’t,butwithoutmyconsentmybrainstartsimaginingaverynot-facelesswomanwithasweetsmileandbrighteyesandabodythatisjustastempting,ifnotmore,evenfullyclothed.
Withoutmyconsent,mytraitorousthoughtsareturningtoCassie.
Mybreathistrappedinmylungs,mybackbendingasIworkmycockfasterwhilethatsamepressurebuildstothepointofburstingandmythoughtsflitbetweenoldmemoriesandnewonesuntilIcan’tseemtodifferentiatewherethefacelesswomanendsandCassiebegins.AndwhyisitthatitissomuchhardertobreathenowthatCassie’sfaceiscroppingupinmythoughts?WhydoIfeelsomuchclosernowthatI’mthinkingabouther?
AndwhenthehotreleasespillsovertocoatmyhandasIpulseintomyownfist,thememoryisgonecompletely,leavingonlyCassie’sfacebehindasIcomeagainstmypalm.I’mtryingtocatchmybreathafter,myeyesopenandfixedontheceilingbutnotreallyseeingit,tryingtocomedownfromthehighastheguiltofwhatI’vedoneslowlycreepsin.
You’dthinkthatImighthavelearnedmylessonthefirsttime.
Hadn’tmylastexperiencewithcaringaboutawomanoutofmyreachtaughtmeanything?HowmuchofadisappointmenthaditbeenwhenIletmylonelinessdrivemetomaketerriblejudgmentcallsonlytobedeliveredarudeawakeningwhenIhadlearnednoneofithadbeenreal?Iclosemyeyesevenasmycheststillheaves,cursingundermybreath.
HereIam,anentireyearlater,becomingenamoredwithanotherwomanthatiscompletelyoutofmygraspandprobablyoutofmyleague.WhatintheworldwouldCassiewantwithaworkaholicsingledadbarelyevenabletokeephisshittogetheronanaverageday?
It’sridiculoustoevenconsider,forallsortsofreasons.
Ireallycareaboutyouguys.
Ihavetoremindmyselfthatshecouldn’thavemeantthatthewayI’dliketobelieve.That’sjustwhoCassieis.I’msurethatsheonlycaresaboutmeasasinglefatherstrugglingtoconnectmorewithhisdaughter,likeapetproject.Nothingmore.
Iwalktomybathroominastateofshametowashmyhands,frowningdownatthesinkasthecoldwaterbringsmebacktoslightclarity.Whenit’sdone,andI’mdryingmyhandsonthetowelhangingbesidethesink,Icatchsightofmystill-flushedfaceinthemirrorandshakemyheadatmyownreflection.
“Youdumbprick,”Imutter.
Ifallbackintomybedface-first,stillcursingmyselfforbeingadelusionalassholebutfeelinglesstense,attheveryleast.Evennow,afterslippingfurtherintovillainywithoutmeaningto—I’mstillthinkingabouther.JustasmuchasIhavebeensincethemomentshemovedin,ifI’mbeinghonest.It’sill-advised,andit’sdefinitelyinappropriate,butthereitis.
Isigh,pushingmyarmsundermypillowandburrowingintoitasItrytopushCassie’sfacefrommymind.ItellmyselfthattomorrowIwillworkonburyingthisasininecrushdeep,deepdownwhereitbelongs.ThatwhenIwakeuptomorrowIwillhavebreakfastwithCassieandSophieandactlikeIdidn’tjustabusemyselftothethoughtofthenanny,becauseeventhinkingaboutitmakesmefeellikeacreep.
Hell.MaybeIam.
Iabsolutelygetnosleepthatnight,butthat’sprettymuchwhatIexpected.I’mabouttotellhimgoodbye,becausebyallaccountswe’redonehere;he’swatchedmecome,he’spaidhismoney—sowhyamIhesitating?
IcanstillhearhimbreathingontheotherendoftheSkypecall,anditisn’tthefirsttimeI’vefoundmyselfcuriousaboutwhathelookslike.Hisvoicedoesunspeakablethingstome,thatmuchisclear,andsurelysomeonewithavoicelikethatmusthaveafacetomatch?
I’mgoingtoendthesession.It’sridiculousthatI’mhesitating.
Iclearmythroat,abouttotellhimthanksforbuyinganotherprivateshow,buthesurprisesmebyspeakingfirst.
“I’mcurious…howmuchwoulditbetokeeptalkingtoyou?”
Iknowthatmyheartshouldn’tskipabeat.
CHAPTER9Cassie
IwishIcouldseewhathelookedlike.
Hisvoiceislow,likeaconstantmurmur,alwaysofferingquietinstructionsasIjumptofulfillhiseverywhim.Somethingaboutthewayheasksforwhathewantsfrommewithcompleteconfidence,withouttheslightestbitofembarrassmentoruncertainty—itmakesmyskintingleallover,almostlikehe’sactuallytouchingme.
“Spreadyourlegs,Cici,”heurgesthroughthemicrophone.“Letmeseeyou.”
Idon’thesitate,partingmythighswiderinfrontofthecamerasohecanseeexactlyhowwetIam.Exactlyhowturnedonhe’smademe.
“Touchyourself,”hecommands.“Touchyourclit.”
Icirclemyfingersaroundthelittlebundleofnerves,feelingsparksinmybellywitheveryswipe.“Likethis?”
“Justlikethat,”hegroans.“You’resopretty.Sofuckingwet.”
“IwishIhadyourfingersinstead,”Icoo,apracticedactthatishardlyanactwithhim.IactuallywishthatIdid.
“I’dgiveyoumorethanfingers,”hepromiseshuskily.“I’dhaveyoufullofmycockfortherestoftheweekend.”
“Yeah?”
“Wouldyoulikethat,Cici?Wouldyouliketocomeonmycock?”
“Mm-hmm.”Imovemyfingersalittlefaster.“IwishIcouldseeit.”
“Maybeyouwill,”hemurmurs.“Ifyouwant.”
Inod,mylashesfluttering.“Iwantit.Iwantyou.”
“YouhavenoideahowmuchI’dliketofuckyou,Cassie.”
Cassie?
That’snotright.
HeonlyknowsmeasCici.
Myeyesflyopen,surprisedtofindmycamerahasdisappeared,Aidensittinginitsplaceandwatchingmeintently.HiseyesburnastheydrinkinthewayI’mtouchingmyself,andeventhoughI’mshockedthathe’shere,myonlythoughtistobeghimtocomedothisforme.TotouchmewithhishandsandhismouthandhiscockuntilIcan’tevenremembermyownname.
“Cassie.”
Hisvoiceisclearernow.Stronger.Touchingmyskinlikethebrushoffingertips.HesaysitagainandagainasIworkmyselffasterandfaster,feelingmyorgasmsoclosethatitmakesmylegsshake.IknowifIdowhathe’saskedofme,he’llclosethedistanceanddoallthethingsIwanthimto.
I’msoclose.Soimpossiblyclose.Andhe’sstillwatchingme,andIjustneedalittlemore,andI’ll—
Ishootoutofbed,stillsweatingandflushedandoutofbreath—allfromadamneddream.IcanstillseeAiden’seyesonmeevennow,andthememoryisenoughtoensurethereisaveryrealtinglingbetweenmylegs.
Getittogether,Cassie.
Obviously,Istillhaven’tcompletelycometogripswithmydiscoverythismorning,myconversationwithAidenlastnightstillfreshonmymind.I’mstillonedgewiththeknowledgethatthemanwhosehouseI’mlivingin,andwhoforallintentsandpurposesismyboss—hasseenmenaked.Hasseenmenakedalot.Itmakesmeequalpartsflusteredand“Iwouldliketocrawlintoaholeanddie,please,”andthinkingaboutallofthethingsAidenhaspaidtowatchmedosendsmeintoatizzy.
God,thethingshehaspaidtowatchmedo.
NottomentionalltheotherquestionsthatpopupwheneverIthinkaboutit,whichadmittedlyhasbeenmostofthenight,sinceI’vebarelyslept.Questionslike:Wherethefuckdidhego?Whydidhesuddenlydisappearaftermentioningthathewantedtomeetme?Meetmeforreal?NotonlydoIhavetorelivetheembarrassmentofwhathadturnedouttobenothingmorethancyber–pillowtalk,butIhavetoreliveitinperson,face-to-facewiththepersonwhoevennow,evenayearlater,stillholdsadominantcornerofmythoughtswheneverIamcarelessenoughtoletthemstray.
Ireachblindlyformyphoneandcheckthetime.It’sstillearly,butIknowthatanytimenowSophiewillbedoinghermorningzombiewalkdownthestairsandexpectingbreakfast.BreakfastthatwewillnowbesharingwithAiden,whoInowknowisA.Whatahorribletimetopushhimtospendmoretimeathome.Ithinkthismightbemypunishmentforoglingmyshirtlessboss.
God,howinthehelldidImanagetoformacrushonthesamemantwice?Onewhoisasoutofmyreachnowashe’dbeenthen?It’snotlikeAidenwilleverbeinterestedinmeoutsideofthejobhehiredmetodo.EspeciallyifhefindsoutI’mthesamewomanheleftbehindlikeaboxofoldrocks.
It’ssoridiculousitdoesn’tevenfeelpossible.
Still…I’dalwayswonderedwhatAlookedlike.Giventhenatureofourrelationship,ithadn’tevenstruckmeasoddthatheinteractedwithmeviavoicechatonly.ItwasacommonpracticethatIhadmorethanbecomeaccustomedto,butIwon’tpretendthatIhadn’t(andhaven’tsince)spentcountlesshourswonderingwhatsortoffacemighthavegonewiththelow,hushedvoicethatwouldquietlydirectmetotouchmyselfinamyriadofways.Therealityofitis…decidedlymorethanIcouldhaveeverexpected,giventhatsometimesitseemslikeAidenwasspecificallydesignedwiththesolepurposeofdrivingmetodistraction.
Thisisgoingtobethemostawkwardbreakfastinthehistoryofbreakfasts.
Imanagetopullmyselfoutofbed,knowingthatifIdon’t,Sophiewillcomelookingforme,orworse,Aidenwill—andAideninmybedroomisnotsomethingI’mequippedtodealwithyet.SoIforcemyselfintomyrobelikethatficklebitchuniversedidn’tdropthemotherofallsurprisesonmeonlyhoursearlier,tyingittightasIshuffletothebathroomtotamemyhairintosomethingslightlypresentable.Therearedarkcirclesundermyeyes,whichIguessmakessense,givenhowlittlesleepIgotlastnight,andIsplashsomecoldwateronmyfaceinanattempttowakemyselfupmore.
NotthebestI’veeverlooked,butIguessitwillhavetodo.
IcanhearAidenandSophie’svoicesupstairsinthekitchenwhenIleavemybedroom,closingthedoorbehindmeandtakingadeepbreathtosteadymyselfbeforeIjointhem.Becauseofcoursethey’rebothalreadyawake.ItellmyselfthatIcandothis,thatIcanpretendlikenothingiswrongandkeepdoingmyjob—becauseIneedthisjob—reasoningthatAidenhaslongforgottenaboutourpastatthispoint,andthatIcandothesamething.
They’rebothsittingatthecounterwhenIreachthetopofthestairs,bothlaughingaboutsomethingIdidn’thearasAidenreachestoruffleSophie’ssleep-mussedhair.InoticethatAidenlooksastiredasIfeel,sportingthesamedarkcirclesandabitofafive-o’clockshadowtoboot.It’scompletelyunfairhowmuchbettertiredlooksonAidenthanitdoesonme.Although,Ihighlydoubtwearetiredforthesamereasons.Ifindabitofcomfortinthat,atleast.Aidenwasn’tuphalfthenightthinkingaboutthepersonattheoppositelevelofthehouse.
Henoticesmethen,thebrightgreenandsoftbrownofhiseyesturningmywaybeforehislipscurlinacarefulsmile—almostlikehe’sworriedhemightspookme.Iguessthat’sfair,giventhatIpracticallyranawayfromhimlastnight
“Goodmorning,”Ioffer,tryingmybesttolooklikethesightofhimdoesn’tmakemyheartrace.
Sophieturnstonoticeme.“Cassie!Tellmydadthatchocolatechipsarebetterthanblueberries.”
“Well,thatdepends,”Itellher,steppingclosertothekitchen.“Inwhatcontext?”
“Forpancakes!”Sheshootsherdadadisgruntledlook.“Dadsaysblueberriesarebetterbecausethey’rehealthier.”
“Well,hehasapoint,”Isay,takingtheopenbarstoolontheoppositesideofher.IhearAidenmakeatriumphantsoundbeforeIleaninclosertoSophietolowermyvoice.“Butchocolatechipsarewaybetter.”
Sophiebeams,shootingherdadasmuggrin.“See?Toldyou.”
“Fine,fine,”Aidenlaughs.“IguessI’moutnumbered.”
Hecatchesmyeyethen,lookingatmeinawaythatfeelslikeaquestion,andthatsameflutteringsortofpanicsparksinmychest,myheartpoundingabitharderasafloodofmemorywashesoverme.IburyitdeepasIgivehimasmilethathopefullysaysanythingbut“youusedtowatchmetouchmyself.”AllIcanhopefornowisthathedoesn’taskaboutmystrangebehaviorlastnight,becauseIamnotconfidentthatIwillhaveanyexplanationtogivehimthatwillmakeanysense.Iknowthattellinghimthetruthisnotanoption,becausethemostlikelyoutcomeofthatwillbehimkickingmeoutofhishouseandoutofhislife,forthesecondtime,Imightadd,andthereismoreatstakenow.Notjustthemoney,whichIdesperatelyneed,butalsotheconnectionI’veformedwithSophie.Ican’tabandonhernow,notwhenI’vejustgottenhertotrustme.Shedoesn’tdeserveanymoredisappointment.
AndifthereisasmallpartofmenotreadytoseeAidendisappearfrommylifeagain…Well,Itellmyselfthatitisnormal,andnotcompletelypathetic,tofeelthatway.
“So…willyoumakepancakes?”
Sophie’sexpectantquestiondrawsmeoutofmyferventthoughts,tearingmygazefromAiden’sandmeetingSophie’sinsteadasIpretendtoconsider.“Hmm.Idon’tknow.Yourdadtoldmehewasstayingforbreakfasttoday,andsinceheseemstobeanti–chocolatechips,itmightbeaproblem.”
“What?”SophieturnstowardAidenexcitedly.“You’restayingforbreakfast?”
Hiseyescrinklewithasmile.“Yep.”Hereachestotaphernose.“GonnatrytomakesureI’mhereforbreakfastmoreoften.”
Sophie’sentirefacelightsup,butIfindmyselfwatchingAiden.Icanseeit,thewayhenoticesthatsuchasimplethingmakesallthedifferenceinhislittlegirl,canseethewayitpleaseshim,anditsetsoffanentirelynewsensationinmychest—onethatiswarmandfuzzyandstrange.Itmakesmehappy,Irealize,toseethetwoofthemhappy,andIalsorealizeithasnothingtodowiththestrangehistorybetweenAidenandme,andeverythingtodowiththistinylittlefamilythatisslowlywormingitswayintomyheart.
It’ssomethingthatcouldbedangerous,andthat,unfortunately,doeshaveeverythingtodowithAidenandourstrangehistory.
IwatchthemcontinuetochathappilyasIslideoffthebarstooltostartbusyingmyselfwithpancakes,astrangeinfluxofemotionskeepingmequietwithmyownthoughtsasIconsiderallthat’shappenedinthelasttwenty-fourhours.IamwellawarethatthereissomepartofmethatwillalwayswonderwhathappenedwithA,orrather,Aiden,Iguess,butIknowthatmybestcourseofactionistoburyeveryemotionIhavethatisconnectedtoanythingwesharedayearago,buryitdeepsothatitcan’truinwhatI’vefoundwiththislittlefamilythatIsodesperatelywanttofindhappiness.BecausetheonethingI’msureof,morethananythingelse…isthatAidencanneverknowwhatIknow.
NomatterhowbadlyIwanttoask.
—
It’sstillbotheringmelaterwhenI’msteppingintothecampusbuildingofSt.Augustine’s,trudgingtothelabroomtofindmyseatbeforeclassstarts.I’dbeenexcitedabouttoday,sincewe’reworkingwiththeAnatomagetable—butnowI’mpreoccupiedwiththoughtsofthepastandthepresentallcollidingtomakeforoneveryconfusinglivingarrangement.Imisstheinstructor’sintroductionentirely,huddlingovermydeskasIchewtheendofmythumbnail.
Itisn’tuntilwebreakforgroupstudythatmylabpartner,Camila,finallycommentsonmystrangebehavior.“What’supwithyou?Youwerebarelypayingattentionwhenshewasexplaininghowtousethetablesettings.”
“Iknow,”Isigh,flippingthroughtheinstructionguide.“Justsomeweirdnessathome.”
“Oh.Areyoustillnannying?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Isitthekid?Yousaidshewasnine,right?Ihaveaniecethatage.Theycanbemeanashell.”
“No,no,she’sgreat,”Iassureher.“Justsomeweirdadjustmentsonmypart.”
“Uh-huh.”
Camilalooksatmewithacockedeyebrowbeforeleaningoverthelarge,lit-uptabletotaketheveinsawayfromthedigitalcadaversothatshecangetacloserlookatthebonesofthewrist.“Yousaiditwasjustthekidandherdad,right?That’sgottobeweird.Livingwithastrangeguy.”
“He’snotstrange,”Iinsist.“They’rebothreallygreat.”
It’sjustthatthedadhastoldmeexactlyhowtomakemyselfcomeonnumerousoccasions.
ButIcan’tsaythat.
“Myabuelasaysthatayoungladylivingwithanunmarriedmanisarecipefordisaster.”
“Thanks,”Imutter.“Thatmakesmefeelbetter.”
Camilalaughs.“She’salso,like,eighty.SoItendtotuneheroutsometimes.”
Ican’thelpbutthinkofWanda,thetimelessbachelorette,wonderingwhatshewouldhavetosayonthematter.Irollmyeyes.She’dprobablyjusttellmetobonehimandgetitoverwith.
“Camila,”Istartcarefully,thinkinganimpartialthirdpartymightbejustthethingIneed.“Whatwouldyoudoifyoumetsomeoneyouusedtoknow…reallywell,buttheydon’trememberyou?”
Shewrinkleshernose.“Doesthatactuallyhappen?Doyoumeanfromchildhood?”
“No,notchildhood…It’scomplicated.”
Camilastopsplayingwiththesettingsonthetable,glancingoverattheinstructor,whoisdeepinconversationwithanothergrouphavingdifficulties.“Howwelldidyouknowthem?”
Imean…he’swatchedmeplaywithmynipples.
“Prettywell,”Isayinstead.“Butitwasmoreofan…onlinefriendship.”
“Hm.”Camilatapsherchin.“Ifitwasmostlyonline…itdoesmakemoresensethattheymightnotplaceyou.Maybeyoushouldjusttellthem?They’dprobablybehappytorealizeitwasyou.Unlessitendedonbadtermsorsomething.”
Ifrowndownatmyfeet.There’snogoodwaytoexplainthewaythatAiden,orratherA,andIpartedways.Whichistosaywedidn’tpartwaysatall.Hejust…disappeared.
“Thingsendedkindofweird.”
“Well,”Camilasays,“maybeit’sagoodthingtheydon’trememberthen,yeah?Couldbehellaawkwardotherwise.”
Shegoesbacktothetabletostartseparatingthemetacarpals;herwordsbouncingaroundinmyheadtomakemebothrelievedandstrangely…moredepressed.
Maybeit’sagoodthingtheydon’tremember.
Thenwhydoesitmakemefeelsoshitty?
—
Aidenkeepshispromisethatweektomakehimselfmorepresentinthemorningsandearlyafternoons,makingsurethathespendsasmuchpossibletimeathomebeforehehastoleaveforwork.Aweekago,thiswouldhaveelatedme,butnowthatIknowwhatIknow,itmeansIamconstantlyonedge.Itellmyselfthatifhehasn’trecognizedmebynow,thereisnochancethathewill.Imean,themaskandthewigIworeduringmytimeonOnlyFansseemtohavedonetheexactjobImeantforthemto,andIknowthatIshouldberelievedthatAidenseemstohavenoinklingofthefactthatheislivingwithawomanhe’spaidtotouchherselfmanytimesover.
Sowhydoesitsortofbummeout?Idon’twantAidentorecognizeme.Hecan’t.
Afterafewdaysofawkwardbreakfastsandtiptoeingaroundhim,Iamgratefultobeoutofthehouse,takingWandauponherofferofdinnerandusingitasachancetoclearmyhead.SheandSophieinstantlyhititoff,whichIexpected,thelittlegirl’sspunkmatchingWanda’sinawaythatdidn’tallowforanyotheroutcome.Likecallstolike,afterall.
“Now,becarefulwiththose,”WandachidesasSophiepicksthroughanassortmentofsouvenirshotglasses.“Someofthemareolderthanyouare.”
Sophieshowsheroneinparticular.“DidyoureallygetthisfromAlaska?”
“You’redamnrightIdid,”Wandasays.“IusedtotravelalotwhenIwasyounger.Wantedtocollectonefromeverystate.”Wandapointsdownthehall.“Gotsomephotoalbumsinmybedroom,”shetellsSophie.“Gogetthatredleatheroneonmybookshelf,andI’llshowyousomepictures.”
Sophie’sfacelightsupwithanod,andsheboundsoffdownthehallinsearchofherprize,leavingWandaandmealone.
“Youwannatellmewhat’supwithyou?”
Fromthecouch,Ifrownatmyfriend,watchingherstudymefromwhereshesitsatherpaddedrockingchairontheothersideofthelivingroom.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Don’tgivemethat,”shehuffs.“You’vebeendistractedsincedinner.Iknowwhensomethingiswrongwithyou,girl.”
“There’snothingwrongwithme,”Iargue.“It’sbeenalongday.”
Longweekismorelikeit.
“Now,youknowI’mnotignorant,sowhyactlikeit?Icantellwhenyou’reworkedupaboutsomething.Sowhydon’tyouspillitbeforethatgirlfindsmyalbum.”
Ilaughdryly,leaningtoletmyfacefallinmyhands.“Isitthatobvious?”
“Itistome.”
“Idon’tevenknowhowtobegintotellyouwhatisupwithme.”
“Justopenyourmouthandtellmewhat’sbotheringyou,”shegrouses.“It’snotthatdifficult.”
IglancetowardthehalltomakesureSophieisstilloutofearshot,takingadeepbreathjusttoletitoutslowly.“It’saboutmyOnlyFans.”
“Didyoubootitbackup?BecauseItoldyouthatyoucould—”
“No,no,”Isay,shakingmyheadvigorously.“I’mnotdoingitagain,but…InevertoldyouwhyIdeletedmyaccount.”
“Gavemesomebullshitaboutgettingtiredofit,”Wandasays.“Howanyonegetstiredofeasymoneyisbeyondme.”
“Well,Imean,thatwastrue,butnot…entirelytrue.”
“Ohboy.”
“It’sembarrassing,okay?”
“Honey,IwearaPoisepadeveryday.Whatthehelldoyouthinkyouhavetobeembarrassedaboutwithme?”
Ismiledespiteeverything,shakingmyheadasIfallbackagainstthecouchcushionsinaslump.“Therewasaguy.”
“Therealwaysis,”Wandasighs.
“Hewas…Imean,Iknowhewasasubscriber,I’mnotcompletelydelusional,buthe…”Iblowoutafrustratedbreath.“God,itsoundssostupid.”
Herexpressionturnssympathetic,anditonlymakesmefeelthatmuchsillier.“Gottooclose,huh.”
“Heseemeddifferent.We…Imean,hewatchedmelikeeveryoneelse,butwe…talkedtoo.”
“Well?Whathappened?”
“Hedisappearedoneday.Weevensetadatetomeetup,butthenhejust…didn’tshow.Hedisappearedafterthat.Ithought…Ithoughthelikedme.Isn’tthatdumb?”
TheoldstingsettlesinmychestasIremembersittinginacoffeeshopforoveranhourbeforerealizingthathewasn’tcoming.
“Firstofall,youassumeanyfaulttobehadiswiththeman.Youhavegoodtitsandabetterbrain,andthatmeansyouareautomaticallyhandsabovetherest.”
Ican’thelpit,Ilaugh.“ShouldweputthatonaT-shirt?”
“Justdon’tbecallingyourselfdumboversomeman.Idon’twannahearthatagain.Gotit?”
Ismilewistfully.“Gotit.”
“SoIgatherthismysterydummyisn’tasgoneasyouthought,right?”
“Howdidyouknow?”
“I’mold,Cassie.Iknoweverything.”
“I…yeah.Heisn’t.”
“Didhecontactyou?”
ImakeachokedsoundthatIthinkissupposedtobealaugh,coveringmyfacewithmyhands.“It’sAiden.”
“Pardon?”
Ipullmyhandsaway.“It’sAiden.”
“Yourboss?”ItmightbethefirsttimeI’veeverseenWandalookspeechless,anditonlylastsagoodtensecondsbeforeitturnstoanger.“Didhehireyoubecauseofthat?”Wandapushesoutofherchair,pointingafingeratme.“Iswearonallthat’sholy,Iwillputthishipimplanttogooduseandputmyfootrightuphis—”
“Shh.Hedidn’tknow,”Itellher,lookingbackatthehallwaytomakesureSophieisstillbackinthebedroom.“Hestilldoesn’tknow.”
“Thenhowthehelldidyoufigureitout?”
“Hehasascar,”Ianswerquietly.Ipointtomybelly.“Righthere.Hetoldmeaboutitonce.It’snot…It’stoobigofacoincidencenottobehim.”
“Doesheknowaboutyours?”
Ireachunconsciouslytorubmyshoulder.“He’sseenit.”
“Recently?”
“No,ofcoursenot.There’snowayhewouldn’tputtwoandtwotogetherifhesawitagain.ItwasbackwhenIstillhadmychannel.Hewas…”Myeyesturntowardthefloor,andIfeelasqueezingsensationinmychest.“HewastheonlyoneIeverletseeit.”
“Sohedefinitelydoesn’tknowwhoyouare.”
Ishakemyhead.“Hecan’tknow.”
“Butaren’tyoucuriouswhyhe—?”
“OfcourseIam,but…hedisappearedforareason.Heobviouslywasn’tasinvestedasIwas,anddon’tyouthinkitwouldmakehimfeelawkwardtoknowwhoIwas?Awkwardenoughtofireme,I’dwager.”
“Shit.”Wandacrossesherarms,frowningatthecarpet.“Youthinkso?”
“Imean,wouldyouwantsomewomanyousawnakedandthencyber-dumpedlivinginyourhouse?Ican’texactlythinkofamoreawkwardsituationthanthatone.”
Wandatapsherfootaimlessly,thinking.“Well,I’llbedamned.”
“Right.LikeIsaid,awkward.”
“Sowhatareyougoingtodo?”
Ithrowupmyhands.“WhatcanIdo?Ijusthavetomakesurehedoesn’tfindout.Ifhehasn’tputittogetherbynow,Ithinkit’ssafetosayhewon’t.Aslongashedoesn’tsee”—Ifrownasthemarredskinonmybackpricklesinreminder—“Ithinkitwillbeokay.”
“Butwillyoubeokay?”
“I…”Ipressmylipstogether,atightnessinmychestthathasn’tgoneawayinthelastweek.“I’llbefine.It’soldnews.Imean…I’moverit,andIneedthisjob.”
Wandalooksunconvinced.“Mm-hmm.”
“I’mfine,”Istress.“Seriously.”
“Cassie,onlyliarssaythey’refine.Youknowthatright?”
“Idon’tthinkthat’sright.”
“Sureitis.Iknowmorethanyou.”
“Youcan’talwaysplaytheoldcardwheneveritsuitsyou.”
“It’sworkedokaysofar,”shesayswithashrug.Shelooksatmewithconcernthen,peeringoverherglasses.“Idon’twanttoseeyougethurt,girl.Just…becareful.”
“Ifoundit!”Littlefootstepspatterdownthehall,drawingourattention.Sophiecomesbackintothelivingroomwithherleather-boundprize,lookingentirelytooexcitedforabunchofoldpictures.Sheplopsthebookdownonthecoffeetablebeforesinkingtoherkneesbesideit.“Doyouhaveanypicturesofpolarbears?”
Wandachuckles,settlingbackintoherrocker.“Neverdidseeapolarbear,sugar.Ithinkyou’llfindagreatpictureofamooseintheresomewherethough.”
Hereyebrowsshootup.“Amoose?”
“Antlersandall,”Wandasayswithagrin.
“Cassie,haveyoueverseenamoose?”
Ishakemyhead.“Never.”
Sophiepatsthespotbesideheronthecarpet.“Comelookwithme.”
“Allright,allright,”Ilaugh,pushingupfromthecouchtojoinheronthefloor.
Sophiepointsouteverysnowyphotofromthealbumthatcatcheshereye,actuallysquealingwithexcitementwhenshefindstheaforementionedmoosephoto.Wandatellsherallabouthowtheycameacrossthemassivecreature,andwhiletheytalk,IthinkaboutwhatWandasaid.
Onlyliarssaythey’refine.
It’slaughable,givenhowaccurateitis,becausethetruthofitisthatI’mnotfine,notreally.Infact,I’mlivinginanightmareofmyownmaking.Apurgatorybuiltonmyownchoices.BecauseIcanpretendIdon’tcarewhyAidendisappearedfrommylifeayearago,Icanpretendthatitdoesn’tmattertomeanymore,oratleast,Icouldhave,maybe…beforeImethim.
I’vebeenlyingtomyselfinallsortsofwayslately.I’vebeenlyingtomyselfandsayingthatIonlywanttomakethisworkforSophie’ssake.I’vebeenlyingandtellingmyselfthatitdoesn’tmatterthatAidenisA,becauseattheendoftheday,thisisjustajob,heisjustaguy,Iamjustthenanny,andthere’snoreasontoletanyofthisbotherme.
Buthehasafacenow.Hetellsjokes.Heasksaboutmyday.Hekisseshisdaughter’shair.Heruinspancakes.HelistenstomewhenItellhimmyconcerns.HeworriesabouthowI’mfeeling.Andsure,he’ssogood-lookingitkindofhurtstolookathimsometimes—butthat’snotnearlyasimportant.
BecauseasmuchasIwouldliketopretendotherwise…IlikeAiden.AsmuchasIthoughtI’dlikedA.AndasmuchasItellmyselfagainandagainthatIdon’twanthimtofindoutwhoIamandcuttieswithmeagainbecauseitwouldhurtSophie,Iknowdeepdownitwouldhurtmetoo.Itwouldhurtforhimtodisappearagain,andknowingthatisthemostdangerousthingofall.
Especiallysince,ifhefindsout…that’sexactlywhathe’lldo.Chatwith@alacarte
@alacarte
sentyoua$50tip
Thanksfortheconversation.
CHAPTER10Cassie
DidyouhavefunatCassie’sfriend’shouselastnight?”
SophienodsaroundabiteofherFrostedFlakes.“She’ssoweird.”
“Weird?”Aidenlooksatmecuriously.“Isweirdgood?”
Inod.“InSophie-speak…Ithinkitis.”
“Ah,”Aidenchuckles.“Ofcourse.”
It’sanormalSundaymorning.Wewokeupasusual,we’reeatingbreakfastasusual,andeverythingseemseasyandsweetandworry-free.Anditis,mostly.Exceptforme.
Ikeepwonderingifhe’llnoticethatIhaveahardtimelookingathim,ifatanygivenmomenthe’llnoticethewayheatrushesintomycheeksandmyearswhenIdoitfortoolong.Everytimeithappens,everytimemygazesettlesonhimandremainsthereforlongerthanahandfulofseconds,IremembereverythingthatAidenhasseen,howmuchhedoesn’tevenrealizehe’sseen…allofme.Irememberhushedconversationsandsweet,filthywordsallmurmuredinadarkroomthatheprobablydoesn’tremember.
AllthattimeIwonderedwhathelookedlike,andnowthatIhaveamouthtomatchthewords,handstomatchallthethingshesaidhewantedtodowiththem…it’shardtothinkaboutmuchelsewhenIlookathim.
“Whatdoyouthink,Cassie?”
IblinkbackatAiden,spoonhalfwaytomymouth,havingnotheardanyofthelastfewsecondsoftheirconversation.“Sorry,what?”
“IaskedSophiewhatshewantedtodoforherbirthday,”hetellsme.“It’sonThursday.”
Sophiepushesupfromherbarstool.“IwanttogotoDisneyland!”
“Ohwow,”Isaywithsurprise.“Disneyland?”
“Prettyloftygoalswithmyschedule,”Aidenchimesinbemusedly.
Ilaugh.“Yeah,howwouldyouswingthat?”
“Comeon,”Sophiewhines.“Please?”
“Itmightbehardtodowithhowbusytherestauranthasbeen,”Aidensayswoefully.“Maybeinamonthorso?”
Sophie’sfacefalls,herfaceturningtohercerealbowlasshepushesherspoonthroughthemilkdejectedly.“Oh.”
“Sophie,”Aidensighs.“YouknowIwouldloveto—”
“Momwassupposedtotakeme,”sheinterruptsquietly.“Formybirthdaylastyear.”
ImeetAiden’seyes,seeingtheguiltthereashegivesmeahelplesslook.Ishrug,notknowingwhattosay,noddingtowardSophieinwhatIhopeisanencouraginggesture.Aidenheavesoutasighbeforerunninghisfingersthroughhishair,reachingtopatSophie’shead.
“Iguesswecan…makeitwork.”
Sophiebrightensimmediately.“Really?”
“IthinkIcanmanageadayoff,”hetellsher.“Anaheimisanhour’sdrive…Wecouldspendadayattheparkandthencomebackthenextdaybeforework…I’llfigureitout.”Heshootsherasternlook.“Butyou’llhavetoaskyourteacheriftheycansendhomeyourschoolworkforthedaysyou’llmiss.”
“IcanruninandtalktothemwhenItakehertoschooltomorrow,”Ioffer.
Aidenflashesmeagratefulsmilethatmakesmystomachflip.Curses.“Thatwouldbegreat.”
“AndCassiecancome,too,right?”Sophieasksexpectantly.
AidenandIbothlookateachother,Aidenlookingunsure.“Idon’tknowifCassiewantstodothat…?”
“Shewantstocome,”Sophieasserts,lookingatme.“Don’tyou?”
“I…Iwouldhatetointrudeonyourfamilytime.”
Sophiepouts.“Itwon’tbeasfunwithoutyou.”
“I…”IglanceatAiden,lookingforhelp.“Idon’tknowif—”
“You’rewelcometocome,”Aidenassuresme.“Ifyouwantto.”Hegivesmeashysortofsmile.“Itwouldn’tbeasfunwithoutyou.”
“Oh.”IcantellbythelookonSophie’sfacethereisnowaytoturnthisdown.“Well…ifyou’resurethatyouwantmeto.”
“MaybewecouldsneakawayWednesdaymorning?”Aidenpullsouthisphonetochecksomething.“It’sadayearly,butmidweekisusuallyourslowesttime.Probablybebetter.Wouldthatwork?Doyouhaveanyplans?”
“Soundsperfect,”Isaytightly,calculatingcostinmyhead.“Ifyou’lltellmehowmuchtheticketsare—”
“Oh,no,”Aidensayswithashakeofhishead.“Don’tworryaboutanything.I’lltakecareofit.Icanmakereservationstonightonmybreak.”
“Icouldn’tletyou—”
“Iwantto,”hesaysfirmly.“Don’tworryaboutit.”
“Okay.”
Sophieshakesherdad’sarm.“CanAuntIriscometoo?”
“Oh,I—”Aidenlooksunsure.“Idon’tknowifshe’dwantto.”Hesharesalookwithme,andagain,Inodencouragingly.AidengivesSophieathinsmile.“I’llcallandaskifshewouldliketo.”
Sophieisalreadychirpingwithexcitement,hercerealforgottenassheasksmeifshecangocallWandaandtellheraboutthetrip.AidenlooksconfusedafterIgivehermycellphoneandsherunsoffwithit.
“IcannotstressenoughhowmuchsheandWandahititoff.”
Aidensmiles.“Clearly.”
“They’repracticallybestfriendsnow,”Ijoke.“Iambeingedgedoutaswespeak.”
“I’mgladyoutookher,”hesays.“That’sallshe’stalkedaboutthismorning.Itseemslikeshehadagreattime.”
“WaittillyoumeetWanda,”Ilaugh.“You’llgetit.”
“Somethingtolookforwardto,”henotes.Helooksworriedthen.“IsinvitingIrisaterribleidea?”
Ishrug.“Uncomfortable,maybe,butnotterrible.Itcouldbeagoodopportunityforyoutwotoburythehatchet.”
“Right,”hesaysabsently,nodding.“You’reright.”
ItakeanotherbiteofmycerealifonlysoIdon’thavetolookathimanymore,everysecondlookingathisfacemeaninganotherfewbeatsthatmyheartratepicksup.Wasitthisawkwardbefore?Stupidquestion.Ofcourseitwas.It’sdefinitelymoresonowthatIknowhe’sseenmenakedthough.
“Ihaven’tproperlythankedyou,”hegoeson.
Ipeekupathim.“Forwhat?”
“Just…forstickingitoutwithus.Imean,withSophie,thatis.Shelovesyou.”
Thispartiseasy,noanxietyattachedtomyfeelingsforthelittlegirl.“Ilovehertoo.She’ssuchagreatkid.”
Aidennods,lookingrelieved.“I’mgladitwasyouthatansweredthead.”
“Oh,well…”Iswallow,feelingthatfamiliarheatatthetipsofmyears.“SoamI.It’sbeengreat.”
“We’rebothluckytohaveyou,Cassie,”hegoeson,makingmeflushfurther.“Ihopeyouknowthat.”
He’sjusthappyyou’resogoodwithhiskid.Don’tgetbesideyourself.
“I…thankyou,”Imanage,hopingthatmyhairisatleastcoveringmyneck,whichisgrowingwarmerwitheverypassingsecond.“Really.”
“Ihopeyou’restill…happyhere?You’veseemedsortofquietlately.”
Well,shit.
“HaveI?”
“MaybeI’mreadingtoomuchintoit,”hesays,shrugging.“Itfeelslikeyou’vebeen…Idon’tknow.Ithoughtmaybeyouwereupsetwithme.”
“What?”Thistakesmebysurprise.“I’mnotupsetwithyou.”
“Oh.It’sjustthat…itfeelslikeyou’vebeenavoidingmesincewetalked.”
“I’mnotupset,”Iassurehim.“I’vejusthadalotonmymindlately.”
Aidenfrowns,somethinginhisexpressionseeminglikehewantstoasksomethingmorebutcan’tquitefigureouthow.There’sawrinkleathisbrowandasettohismouththatdoesn’tgivemetheslightestinsightintowhathe’sthinking,andIworryinthismomentthathesomehowknowswhatI’mthinking,thathecanseerightthroughmyflimsyliestothetruth.
There’snowayhecouldknow.You’refine.
“Ireallyamsorry,”hesays.“Fordumpingallofthatonyou.”
“Seriously,it’sokay.”Itryforasmile,butasnervousasIfeelrightnow,Icanonlyimaginehowforceditlooks.“Ithinkit’sasideeffectofcaringaboutSophie.”
“Right.”Henods.“IhopeyouknowhowmuchI…appreciateyou.”
Iholdmybreath.
It’sjustbecauseofthejobyou’redoing.Stopreadingintoit.
“I’mglad,”Imanage.“I’mhappyhere.Withyouguys.”
There’samomentwhereneitherofussaysanything,andIknowIshouldavertmyeyes,thatit’sweirdtosithereandkeepstaringintohis,buttheproblemis…hedoesn’tlookawayeither.OnceagainIfindmyselfwishingIcouldknowwhathe’sthinking.
“Good,”hesaysfinally,hisexpressionstillhardtoread.“I’mglad.”
I’mopeningmymouthtosaysomething,exactlywhat,I’mnotsure,butSophiechoosesthatmomenttorejoinus,anditendsupnotbeinganissue.
“Wandasaystotakepictures,”Sophietellsme.“Andtobringherbackashotglass.”
Aiden’sbrowquirks.“Ashotglass?”
“Yep.”Sophienods.“It’sthistinycupthing.Idon’tknowwhatyoudrinkoutofthemthough.Theywouldn’ttellme.ShehasonefromAlaska!”
“Shehasonefromalmosteverywhere,”Ichuckle.
“Andshe’sseenamoose,”Sophiesays.
“Iknow,”Aidensaysamusedly.“You’vetoldmeaboutthemoose.Severaltimes.”
Sophiehandsmemyphoneback,lookingatmeexpectantly.“Sowhatarewegoingtodotoday?”
“Well,”Istart.“Ithoughtmaybewecouldgobacktothatparkyouliked.Thatwasfun,right?It’ssupposedtobeanicedaytoday.”
“Yes!Thatsoundsawesome.”Shelooksatherdadexcitedly.“Canyoucome?Please?Justforalittlewhile?Icanswingsuperhigh.You’vegottasee.”
“Oh,I…”Aidenlooksatmehelplessly,andIcanonlyshrug.“Yeah,”hesighs,andIcantellbyhisexpressionthatthisisgoingtoputhimbehind,butstrangelythatmakesitthatmuchsweeter.“I’dlovetoseethepark.Whydon’tyourunupstairsandgetdressedwhileIshower?”
Sophiesquealswithgleebeforeshemakesabeelineforthestairs,Aidenhanginghisheadwearilybeforehetiltshisfacebackuptomeetmine.“Ihavetosay…thatsmiledoesmaketheshittynightI’mgoingtohaveworthit.”
“Superdad,”Ipraise.
Thecornerofhismouthturnsup,andIthinkit’smomentslikethesethatmakemethemostunsure.Seeinghimsocarefree,withhiseasysmileandhisprettyeyesandhishairstillstickingupinplacesinthesamewaythatSophie’sdoeswhenshewakesup…itmakesitthatmuchhardertopretendI’mnotmoreinvestedthanIshouldbe.ThatI’mnotwonderingwhathishairmightfeellikeundermyfingersorwhathissmilemightfeellikeagainstmyskin.
“IguessI’dbettergohopintheshower,”hesays,slidingoffhisbarstool.
Igivehimatightnodasheheadsofftothestairs,notrelaxinguntilhe’soutofsightandI’malone.Iblowoutabreath,lettingmyfacedroptothegranitecountertopandlettingitcooltheflushatmycheeks.
I’mnotthinkingaboutAidenintheshower.Absolutelynot.
—
Idon’tknowwhoishavingmorefunontheplayground—AidenorSophie.Thelasthourhasbeenfilledwithhersquealsandhislaughter,Aidensatisfyinghereverywhim,beitpushingherontheswingorfollowingherupthejunglegymladderthatisconsiderablytoosmallforhim,hisabove-averageframetryingtomaneuverthrougheachsectionveryentertainingtowatch.
Ikeepmydistanceonthebenchattheedge,contenttowatchthemspendtimetogether.Everysooften,Aidensmilesatmelikewe’resharingasecret,somethingthatfeelsironicconsideringwearesharingasecret,hejustdoesn’trealize.Idon’tknowhowlongitisbeforeheplopsdownonthebenchbesidemewhileSophiebusiesherselfonthemerry-go-roundwithafewotherkidsoutthismorning,hischeeksflushedandhisbreathlabored.
“IthinkI’mgettingold,”helaughs.
“Spareme.”Irollmyeyes.“You’rebarelyoverthirty.”
“Thirty-twoinfourmonths,”hepointsout.“Practicallyoverthehill.”
“I’llbesuretostartpickingoutyourroomatthenursinghome.”
Aidengivesmeanexpressionofmockrelief.“Well,that’sonelessthingtoworryabout,Iguess.”
“It’smymasterplan,”Isayseriously.“EdgeyourightoutofthehouseandraiseSophieasmysupervillainsidekick.”
“Goodluckwiththatone,”Aidensnorts.“Sophiefightsmetobrushherteethsomemornings.Somethingtellsmeshewon’thavethepatiencefororganizedcrime.”
“Well,shit.”Ishakemyhead.“Theregoesmyfive-yearplan.”
Thesunisclimbinghigherinthesky,andAidenturnsuphisface,coveringhiseyesashefrowns.“MaybeIshouldhavebroughtSophiesomesunscreen.”
“She’llbegettinghungrysoon,anyway.She’llbefine.”
“You’reright.I’llletherplayalittlelonger,andthenwecango.Idon’twanthertoburn.”
“Didyouknowthatpigscangetsunburns?”
Aidensomehowlooksincredulousandamusedallatonce.“Wheredoyoukeepthese,exactly?”
“Yougotme.”Iraisemyfisttoknockatmyownskull.“They’reprobablytakingupalltheextraspaceIshouldbesavingforsomethingmoreimportant.Liketaxlaw,maybe.”
Inoticehismouthquirkfromthecornerofmyeye,andIhavetobitebackmyownsmiletokeepfromlookingtoogiddy.Webothsitquietlyforatime,watchingSophieenjoyherself,andIdon’tevenrealizeI’mstillgrinningtomyselfuntilIcatchAidenwatchingmeoutofthecornerofmyeye.
“Sorry,”Isaysheepishly.“Shejustlookssohappy.”
He’sstillwatchingme,thatsameunreadablesomethinginhisexpressionthathasmewishingIcouldreadhisthoughts.“No,it’s…there’snothingtoapologizefor.”
“IknowIoversteppedwhenwelasttalked,but…itreallyhasmadeadifference,Ithink.Herbeingabletospendmoretimewithyou.”
“Youdidn’t,”hecounters,finallyavertinghisgazetowatchSophie.“Overstep.Youdidn’tsayanythingthatwasn’ttrue.”
“Still.I’msureit’sannoyingforsomeonewho’sbarelybeenaroundamonthactinglikesheknowseverything.”
Aidenlaughsquietly.“It’ssoweird.Itfeelslikeit’sbeenlongerthanthat.”
“Really?”
“Maybeit’sbecauseyouandSophiehititoffsowell.”
“Sheneverdidputdirtinmybed,atleast.”
Hesmilessoftly,stillwatchingSophie.“I’mjustgladyou’renotangrywithme.”
“Iswear,Ineverwas.”
IamtryingtopretendthatI’mnotsneakingglancesathim,notnoticingthewaythewindruffleshishairorthewayhisjeansfitorhowhisdarkgrayHenleyhugshischest—butit’shardtodothatwhenAidenkeepscatchingme,stealingglanceshimself.
“Good,”hesaysfinally.“Itjustfeltweird.Likeyouwereavoidingme.”
“Yeah,well…youavoidedmefirst.”
Aiden’sfacesplitsintoagrin.“Wearen’tverygoodathandlingouremotions,arewe?”
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Avoidingawkwardsituationsistheabsolutebestwayofhandlingthem,inmyexperience.”
“Soyouadmititwasanawkwardexperience,”heteases.
Morethanyoucaneverknow,Ithinkbitterly.
“Imean,I’veneverhadameaningfulconversationwithmybosswhilehewashalf-naked,soIthinkIhandleditokay,allthingsconsidered.”
“Yeah…I’mnotsurewhatledmetobelievemyshirtwasthebestoptionforcleaningupmybeer.”
“Therewereperfectlygoodhandtowelsinthedrawer.”
“Iwasverytired,okay?”
It’samomentthatfeelstooeasy,onethatmakesmealmostforgetalltheothershitgoingoninmyheadthatmakesmeanxiousifIdwellonittoolong.Doeshehavetobesofuckingnice?Itmakesitahellofalothardertodothesmartthingandpackallmyfeelingsaway.
Idecideit’sbesttochangethesubject.“So…Disneyland?”
“Yeah,”Aidensighs.“Icanalreadyhearmybossbitching.”
“Butjustthinkofhowhappyshe’llbe,”Ipointout.
“You’reright,”hesays.“She’sgoingtolosehermind.”
“Haveyoueverbeen?”
Hemakesaface.“Absolutelynot.”
“Ohboy.Thisisgoingtobeextrafun.”
“HowbadlyamIgoingtoregretthis?”
“Don’tworry,I’llbetheretohandleallthehardstuff.”
“Thehardstuff?”
“Oh,youknow…takingpictureswiththeprincesses,SleepingBeautyCastle—yourealizeshe’sgoingtowanttobedressedup,right?Howdoyoufeelaboutrollercoasters?”
Aidenlookslikehemightbefeelingqueasy.“Whatarethechancesshe’llwanttospendagoodchunkofthedayattheStarWarsattraction?”
“Iwouldn’tholdmybreath,”Ilaugh.“Ithinkyou’reinforalotofprincess-adjacentfun.Maybewecancatchaparade!”ThelookonAiden’sfaceonlymakesmelaughharder.“Thisisgoingtobesomuchfun.”
“I’mgladyou’relookingforwardtoit,”hemumbles.
Ireachovertopathishand.“I’llmakesureyoudon’tgetlost,don’tworry.”
Ithadbeenaninnocentgesture,placingmyhandoverhis,butwhenmylaughterdiesdown,Inoticeit’sstillrestingthere,andAiden’sstaringatwheremyhandistouchinghisinawaythatmakesmelosemytrainofthought.Idon’tknowhowlongwestaylikethatbeforeIremembermyself,clearingmythroatbeforepullingitawayasquicklyasIcanwithoutseemingweird.
“Sorry.”
“It’sfine,”hesaystooquickly.“I’mgladyou’recoming.”
“Yeah?”
Henods,notlookingatme.“ForSophie,Imean.I’msureshe’llenjoyherselfalotmorewithyouthere.”
“Oh.Well…”ForSophie.Whydoesthatsting?It’stheonlyreasonI’mhere,afterall.“Ithinkit’llbealotoffun.”
Aidenclearshisthroat.“IcalledIris.”
“Youdid?”
“Shecan’tgetanyonetocoverthestorefortwodays,”hetellsme.“Sincewe’regettinganAirbnbafter.”
Pleasedon’tremindme,Ithinkwoefully.Although,whysharingarentalwithAidenmakesmesquirmwhenwelivetogetherisbeyondme.
“That’stoobad,”Isay,meaningit,weirdly.“IknowSophiewillbebummed.”
Aidennods.“She’sgoingtocomebybeforeworkonFriday.”
“Well,that’sgoodatleast.Wasitweird?Thephonecall?”
“I…”Hepurseshislipsforamomentbeforeshakinghishead.“Shesounded…grateful.ThatIasked.Itmightbeoneoftheeasierconversationswe’vehadinthelastyear.”
“Maybesheseesthatyou’retryingtomeetherhalfway.”
“Maybe.”Heglancesoveratme.“Thankyouforsuggestingit.”
“Ah,well…”Itrytolooknonchalant.“JustlookingoutforSophie.”
Andyou,Idon’tsay.
Ithinkmaybewebothsortofrunoutofthingstosaythen;aquietsettlingoverusbothaswewatchSophie,whohasmovedontothemonkeybars.Westaylikethatuntilawomanpushingastrollerpassesustotakethebenchnexttous,huffingasshedropsadiaperbagonthegroundbesideher.“DoyouguysmindifIsithere?”
“No,ofcoursenot,”Aidentellsher.“Please.”
Thewomanlookslikeshe’safewdaysshortofagoodnight’ssleep,herhairtossedintoamessybunandhereyeslinedwithdarkcircles.“ThankGodforthepark,right?”Shelaughsasshefussesoverthebabygirl’sbowinthestroller.“I’dlosemymindifIcouldn’tbringherbrotherheretoburnoffsomeofhisenergy.”
Ileanovertogetabetterglimpseofherbaby.“She’sadorable.Howold?”
“Sixmonths,”shetellsus.“She’sahandful,butatleastshe’sstationary.”Shenodsherheadtowardadark-hairedlittleboycurrentlyclimbinguptheladdertothejunglegym.“Thatoneneverseemstogettired.”Shegivesusakindsmilethen.“Whichoneisyours?”
“Mydaughter,”Aidenoffers,pointingtowardthemonkeybars.“She’soverthere.”
“She’sacutie.”
Aidensmileswithgratitude.“Thankyou.”
“Youguysmakesuchacutelittlefamily,”shegushes,mycheeksinstantlyfeelingwarmer.
“Oh,wearen’t—”
“Daniel!WhatdidIsay?”Shegivesusanapologeticlook.“Sorry.Ineedtogomakesurehedoesn’tbreaksomething.”
Sheleavesusthere,pushingherstrollerinahurrytocheckonherson,whoisnowhangingupsidedownontheladder,andwhenIfinallyfindthecouragetolookoveratAiden,helooksasembarrassedasIdo.
“Iguessitwasboundtohappen,”hesayswithashysortoflaugh.“Nobigdeal.”
“Right.”Ireachtotuckastraytendrilofhairbehindmyear,lookingdownattheconcrete.“It’sridiculousthough.”
Aidencockshisheadatmefromtheside.“Howdoyoumean?”
“Imean…”Ithink,inmyattempttomakethingslessawkward,Iamdiggingadeeperholeintothatverything.“Well,obviouslyyou’reoutofmyleague.Onawholeotherplanet,really.SoIdoubtmanypeoplewouldmakethesamemistake.”
“YouthinkI’moutofyourleague?”
JesusChrist,whathaveIdone?Isitstilltoolatetorunaway?
“Imean…objectivelyspeaking,it’sobviousthatyou’re—”
“Idon’tthinkit’sthatobvious,”hesaysflatly.“Objectivelyspeaking.”
ThebreathI’dbeenabouttotakegetstrappedinmylungs,andwhenIfindthecouragetopeekupatAiden,hisexpressionseemswhollyserious.
“What?”
“Ifanything,”Aidensays,“you’dbeoutofmine.”
Mymouthpartsinsurprise.“What?There’snowaythat—”
“Cassie,youhavetoknow…”Heblinksthen,seemingtorealizethecontentoftheconversationwe’rehaving.“Okay.IthinkmaybeI’mtheoneoversteppingnow.”
“No,it’sokay,Ididn’tmeanto—”
“Ijustdon’tthinkyoushouldeverimplythatyouaren’tgoodenoughforsomeone,”hesaysmatter-of-factly.“Leastofallme.”
Ihavenoideawhattosaytothat,leftsittingonthebenchwithmymouthopenandscramblingforsomesortofresponse.Ishesayingthatheisinmyleague?Likehe’sconsideredit?Orishejustbeingnice?I’mtooafraidtoask;everythingaboutthisconversationisscreamingdangerous
Webothstareateachotherforwhatfeelslikemuchlongerthanthetensecondsitmorethanlikelyis.InoticethewayAiden’seyesdiptomymouth,thewayhisthroatbobswithaswallowandhischestrisesandfallsheavierthanitdidamomentago.
“Hey,Dad!Comepushme!”
Aidensnapshisheadaway,stillbreathingharderthanheshouldbeashefindsSophiewavingathimfromtheothersideoftheplayground.Helooksfromhertometoheragain,finallyshakinghisheadbeforehestandsupfromthebench.
“Sorry.Thatwas…Ishouldn’thave—”Hetakesadeepbreaththroughhisnostrils,onlytoexpelitfromhismouth.“JustforgetIsaidanything.”
Isaynothing,becauseIhavenoideawhattobegintoevensay,watchinghisbackashewalksawayfromme.Overandover,mymindispickingapartandpiecingtogethereverysinglethingthathejustsaid,totrytofindthemeaningofit,comingtoallsortsofconclusions,eachonemakinglesssensethanthelast.DidAidenreallyjusttellmeinsomestrangeroundaboutwaythatIamwellwithinhisleague?Thatheisinmine?
Andwhatthehelldoesitmeanifheis?
Ittakesalongtimeformetomovefromthebenchasmythoughtsrace,knowingthatIwillbedoingtheabsoluteoppositeofwhathe’durgedmetodo.
JustforgetIsaidanything.
Right.Fatchanceofthat.Chatwith@alacarte
Fuckinghell,Cici.Thatwasincredible.
Youaskedmetobeloud.
I’mnotgoingtobeabletosleeptonightthinkingaboutyoubeggingforme.
YouhavenoideahowbadlyIwanttofuckyou.
IthinkI’mstartingtogetanidea.
CHAPTER11Cassie
AidenatDisneylandturnsouttobeoneofthemosthystericalthingsthatI’veeverexperienced.Helooksoutofplaceinhisblackshirtandhisblackshadesandhisdarkjeans—agoodheadtallerthanmostoftheotherguestsandapermanentexpressionthatisequalpartsnervousandstoicallyresolved.Evenso,hetakeseverythingSophiethrowsathiminstride.Hewearstheearsthatmatchmineandhersthatshebeggedfor.Hewaitspatientlyinthecostumeshop(itturnsoutshewasn’ttoooldforprincesses,afterall)asshegarbsherselfinthewholenineyards:dress,tiara,wand,andshoes.Heevenrideseveryridethatsheaskshimto,eventhoughI’mprettysurehemightbescaredofheights.HisknuckleswerethecolorofchalkwhenSophiemadehimgoontheIncredicoaster
Itwouldbetheperfectday…ifitweren’tfortheawkwardairbetweenus.
AfterAidenleftusattheparktogotoworkonSunday,theextentofconversationbetweenusfromthenuntilnowhasbeennothingmorethanawkwardhellosandgoodbyesandaclippedtextaboutticketsandreservationstosomeAirbnbnearby.Hehasn’tsaidanythingmoreaboutthestrangeexchangewehadatthepark—infact,Aidenhasn’tsaidanythingmorethanhe’shadtosincethen.Evenonthehour-longrideintoAnaheimthismorning,itseemslikeheonlyspoketomewhenabsolutelynecessary,startingourback-and-forthcycleofavoidingallthingsawkwardalloveragain.
Ourcommunicationskillsdoseemtodevolveintoelementary-likelevelswheneitherofusthinkswe’veoverstepped.ItwouldbeannoyingifIwasn’tbeingjustasidioticaboutit;Ican’tseemtomakemyselfbringitup,either,soIdon’tthinkIcanactuallybeupsetwithhim.
Bymidday,IcantellAidenisalreadyexhausted,hidingunderashadytreeonabenchasSophieandIcomeoutoftheMatterhorn.Supposedlyheneededabathroombreakthatjustcouldn’twait,butI’mnotentirelyconvincedheisn’tscaredoftheYeti.Thebirthdaygirlischatteringabouttheride,adjustingthetiarashegotfromtheBibbidiBobbidiBoutique(blue,becausepinkwasjusttoogirlieforherprincessgown,apparently)andskippingalongsidemejustasshespotsherdad.
“Dad,Dad,”Sophiesquealsexcitedlyassherushestowardhim.“Itwasawesome!”
“I’llbet.”Hereachesbesidehimtograbfortwodrinks,handingonetoeachofus.“Ifiguredyouguysmightbethirsty.”
Ishouldn’tbethishappyoverabottleofSnapple,butIcan’thelpit.Ionlymentionedmyfavoriteflavoronceinpassing,andapparentlyAidendeemeditimportantenoughtoremember.Ishakeitbackandforth,givinghimagratefulsmile.“Peachtea.”
“I’mtoldyoubleeditatthispoint.”
Igivemyattentiontothebottlejustsohedoesn’tseemygoofygrin,reachingtounscrewthecap.Iturnitovertoreadthefact,laughing.
Aidencockshisheadcuriously.“What?”
“Ican’tmakethisup,”Isnort,holdingthelidsoIcanreadittothem.“?‘Thehundredfoldsinachef’shatrepresentthehundredwaystocookanegg.’?”
Aidenlaughs,holdingouthishand.“Noway.”
Idropthelidinhishand.“Canyoucookaneggahundredways?”
“I…”Hefrowns.“Idon’tactuallyknow.AmIsupposedtoknow?”
“AlltheprofessionalcooksIknowareeggaficionados,”Itsk.
Aiden’slipstiltup,anditmightbethefirstnormalmomentwe’vehadsinceSunday.
Sophieisapparentlynotinterestedinthisexchange,gulpingdownaswigofherGatoradeandaahingloudlyafter.“IwanttogoontheMatterhornagain,”shewhines.“Canwedoitagain?”ShegivesAidenapleadinglook.“Dad.Youwouldtotallyloveit.Canwe?”
“Oh,I…”Hesmilesatherbutlooksnervous.“Youknow,there’salotofstuffwestillneedtogetto.HowaboutIgoonthenextone?”
“Okay,”Sophiepouts.
IelbowSophiegently.“IthinkyourdadisscaredoftheYeti.”
“What?”Sophielooksatherdadwithconcern.“Areyouscared?”
Aidenraisesoneeyebrow.“IamnotscaredoftheYeti.”
“ThatsoundsexactlylikewhatsomeonewhoisscaredoftheYetiwouldsay,”Itease.
“Sureitis.”
“I’mjustsaying.”Ishrug.“TheminuteyouheardYeti,yousuddenlyneededabathroombreak.”
“Hilarious,”hedeadpans.“Areyouguyshungryyet?”
Sophiecoversherstomachwithherhand.“I’mstarving.”
“Isawacoupleoffoodcartsbackthatway.”HepointsbacktowardFantasyland.“Wecouldgoandseewhattheyhave.”
“WestillhavetogoonPeterPan!”
“We’llgetthere,”Aidenassuresher.“Westillhavetherestoftheday.”
“Okay,”shehuffs.“Aslongaswe—”
IttakesAidenandmeasecondtorealizethatSophiehasstoppedfollowingus,andwhenwebothturn,it’sclearthatsomethingelsehascompletelycapturedherattention.IfollowherlineofsightuptowardFantasyland,squintingmyeyestotrytoseewhatshe’sseeing.
“Isthat…?”
Sophiesqueals.“It’sMirabel!”
Shegrabsmyhandandbeginstopullmealong,leavingaveryconfused-lookingAideninourwakeasshetugsmetowardtheDisneyprincessinquestion.Averyprettyactorwithdarkcurlsandgoldenskinisskippingnearbyinanembroideredtealskirtandflowingwhiteblouse.It’stheglassesthatgiveitaway,though,roundandbrightgreen.Theystoptowaveatthelittlekidsshepasses,andSophieisclosetohyperventilatingthecloserweget.
“Cassie!Cassie!It’sMirabel!”
“Iseeher,”Ilaugh.“Doyouwanttogomeether?”
“CanI?”
“Goon,”Iurge,pushinghertowardtheactor,whoisonlyagoodtenfeetawaynow.“We’llberighthere.”
SophiepracticallysprintsinMirabel’sdirection,onlyslowingwhenshe’safootorsoawayasshehangsbackpatiently,waitingfortheactordressedasMirabeltofinishspeakingwithaboywholookstobeatadbityoungerthanSophie
“AmIsupposedtoknowwhatjusthappened?”
IglanceoveratAiden,whohasfinallycaughtup.“YouhavegottogetuptospeedwiththeEncantocraze,”Ichuckle.
“Apparently.”Hestandsnexttome,shovinghishandsinhispockets.“I’mnotsureI’veeverseenherthisexcited.”
“She’sobsessedwithMirabel,”Iinformhim.“It’sacutemovie.Youshouldwatchit.”
“I’lltrytomakeapointtoaskhernextweek,”hepromises.
WebothwatchasSophiefinallygetsherturntoapproachMirabel,herfacelightingupwhentheactorsquatsdowntoherlevel,givingherabrightsmile.Ican’thearwhatthey’retalkingabout,butgiventhatSophielookslikeshe’smetthechild’sequivalentofthepresident,itmustbegood.
“You’resurvivingDisneyprettywell,”Ipointout,unscrewingmydrinktotakeanotherswig.“Ithoughttheearsweregoingtodoyouin.”
HereachestotouchtheMickeyMouseearsthatSophieinsistedongettingonlytochuckhersforatiarathesecondshesawtheboutique.“I’mguessingthisiswhatdadrockbottomlookslike.”
“They’recute,don’tworry,”Ilaugh.
Heclearshisthroatsubtly.“Arethey?”
“Yeah,they’re—”It’samistake,lookingupathim,becausehowintheworlddoessomeonewearingallblackatDisneyandsportingMickeyMouseearsmanagetolooksotempting?Ican’tseehiseyesbehindhissunglasses,butitdoesn’tmatter,Ithink,becauseit’sobviousthathe’slookingrightatme.“Youpullthemoff,”Isayalittlemorequietly.
IwatchhisjawworksubtlyforonlyamomentbeforehelooksbacktowardSophie,whoishavingMirabelsignherautographbook.“Sodoyou.”
Youcouldjustaskhim,somethingwhispersinmyhead.Youcouldjustaskwhathemeantatthepark.What’stheworstthatcouldhappen?
Hecouldtellmehewasjustbeingnice.That’swhat.
“Hey,Aiden,about—”
“Dad!Cassie!”
IwhipmyheadaroundtocatchSophiefranticallypointingatabushjustbehindher,justabletomakeoutacurlyheadofhairandanemerald-greenponcho.Theactorlooksasnervousastheirnamesake,peekingupfrombehindabranchandgivingSophieashywaveassherushesovertothem.
“So,we’regonnatalkaboutBruno,”Ihalfsing.
Aidenfrowns.“What?”
“Nothing,”Ilaugh.“Webettergogetherbeforeshehyperventilates.”
It’sprobablyforthebest,Ithink.Curiositykilledthecat.
Forgetthecat,it’smydamnedfeelingsI’mmoreworriedabout.
Idon’tattempttobringitupfortherestoftheday.
—
WespendeverysecondoftheentiredayexploringDisneyland—Sophiedraggingusfromoneattractiontothenextuntilwellafterthesungoesdown.Aidenphysicallyhastocarryheroutwhenitisallsaidanddone,thelittlegirlbeingmorethanhappytostayuntilclosing.It’shardtoexplaintoanewlyten-year-oldthatit’snotagreatideatokeepheroutpastmidnight.
ShefallsasleepinthecaronourwaytotheAirbnb,butevenwithnothingbutthesoundofpassingcarsoutside,AidenandIstillcan’tseemtofindawaytobreakthetensesilence.Hehasn’tlookedatmeoncesinceweleftthepark,andeventhoughthesunhasset,IcanjustmakeouthisfeaturesinthestreetlightsoutsideifIstealaglanceinhisdirection.It’sgoingtobeawkwardtrappedinthesmallspaceoftheAirbnbifthiskeepsup,nothavingthesafetynetofanentirefloorbetweenuslikewedoathome.
Idon’tknowhowlongwestaylikethatbeforeitgetstome,butbythetimeI’velistenedtothetappingofhisfingersagainstthesteeringwheelforthefourthtime,Ican’ttakeitanymore.“Ithinkit’ssafetosaythattodaywasahit,”Ipointout.“She’sprobablygoingtotrytowearthatprincessdresstoschoolwhenwegetback.”
Aidenlaughssoftly.“ItwasworththeshitshowI’mgoingtocomebacktoatwork.”
“Superdad,”Isay,echoingmystatementfromtheotherday.
Icanjustmakeouthisbarelytheresmile.“Yeah.”
“Ibetshedoesn’tevenbudgewhenyoucarryhertobed.”
“You’reprobablyright,”heagrees,andwhenIlookagain,Iseehimglanceintherearviewmirror.“She’shadafullday.”
“Didyouhavefun?”
“Itwasdefinitelysomething.”
“Maybeyoucanweartheearstoworkwhenyougetback.”
“Oh,sure.I’lldothat,”hesnorts.
Igrinintheneardark,turningmyfacetowardthewindow.It’sfunnyhowthingscanseemsoeasybetweenusonlytoturnuneasymomentslater.Aidenclearshisthroatthen,drawingmyattention,apparentlynotdone.
“Youdidsaytheylookedgoodonme,”hementions,hisvoicelowerthanitwasamomentago.“So.”
Iturnmyheadslightly,feelingmyheartbeatfaster.“Yeah.Idid.”
“Youweregoingtoaskmesomethingearlier,”hegoeson.“Whatwasit?”
“Oh.”Iswallow,mymouthsuddenlydry.“Iwasjust…”It’snotagoodidea,andIknowthat.Ishoulddropthis,butIdon’tdothat.“Iwasgoingtoaskwhatyoumeanttheotherday.”
“Theotherday,”heechoesquietly.
“Yes,you—”Ishiftinthecarseat,straighteningmybackasmyhandsgripmyknees.“Atthepark.Whenthatwomansaid—whenIsaidyouwere—”God.“Yousaiditwasn’tobvious.”
IcanonlyhopeheispickingupthisscatteredmessthatIamlayingdown,becauseIcanhardlyevenhearmyselfthinkoverthewaymypulseisthumpingawayinsidemyears.Mychestisalightwithfluttersandsparksthatmakeithardertobreathe.
“Oh.”
Iwaitforhimtoexpandonhisoh,buthedoesn’tsayanythingelseforatleastaminute.Atleastsixtysecondsofmegrowingincreasinglymorepanickedforhavingtouchedonthissubjectagain.
“YousaiditwasobviousthatIwasoutofyourleague,”hehalfwhispers.
Imightnotbebreathing.It’shardtotell.“Yousaiditwasn’t.”
“Becauseitisn’t.”
Mylipspart,andI’mnotstealingglancesanymore;infact,Iamalmostfullyturnedinmyseattolookathim.“Idon’tknowwhatthatmeans.”
“I’mnotsureIdoeither.”
“Youhavetoknow,”Imanage.“That’swhatyousaid.Youhavetoknow.WhatdoIhavetoknow,Aiden?”
Inoticehisfingersaregrippingthesteeringwheelnow,andhestillisn’tlookingatme.“Idon’tknowifweshouldbetalkingaboutthis.”
“Oh.”Everysparkinmychestgoesoutallatonce.“Right.Ofcourse.”
“It’sjust,Idon’tthinkit’sagoodideato—”
“Igetit,”Isay,cuttinghimoff.“Sorry.You’reright.Totallyinappropriate.”
“Cassie,it’sjust—”
“Igetit,Aiden.”Iturnmyfacetowardthewindow.“Seriously.Iwasjustcurious.Nobigdeal.”
Hegoesquietagain,andIfindmyselfregrettingbringingitup,justlikeIknewIwould.Thestreetlightsstillpassbyoutside,andmyheart’sstillbeatingtoofast,butitholdsnoneofthestrangeanticipationfromamomentago,justembarrassmentandmilddisappointment.
Youshouldhavejustkeptyourmouthshut.
—
IkeepwaitingforAidentosaysomethingmoreaswedrivetotheAirbnb,butheneverdoes.I’mstartingtothinkI’vemessedthingsup—thatI’vecreatedasituationthatwewillhavetroublegettingover.It’sclearthatIshouldhavejustletthingslie,thatit’sbecomingincreasinglymorelikelythatAidenwasjustbeingniceandnowhehastoworryabouthisnannyreadingtoomuchintothings.IguessifIwerehim,I’dfeelawkwardtoo.
IlockmyselfinthebathroomwhileAidentucksSophieintotheirroom,brushingmyteethaggressivelyasIrecounttheday’seventsinmyhead.ItrytofindwhereImighthavegonewronginthinkingthatAidenmighthavemeantsomethingwitheverythinghesaidandeveneverythinghedidn’tsay.
Cassie,youhavetoknow—
God.Thatoneisgoingtokeepmeawake.
Ispitmytoothpasteinthesinkbeforeturningoffthewater,droppingmytoothbrushonthecounterandgrippingtheedgetopeerbackintothemirror.It’sprobablyridiculousinthefirstplace,thefactthatIhadactuallyhopedhemighthavemeantmore;there’snothingaboutitthatscreamsgoodidea,andinthelongrun—there’snowayitwouldendwell.EvenifAidenwereinterested.Whichheisn’t.Ormaybeheis,hejustknowsthatit’sabadidea.MaybeI’mjusttossingthatideaintothehattomakemyselffeelbetter.Idon’tknow.
Irunmyfingersthroughmyhairandblowoutabreath,shakingawaytheseno-goodthoughtsthatultimatelywon’tgetmeanywhere.Ihavetoremindmyselfagainandagainthatitdoesn’tmatterifAidenisthepersonwhousedtowatchme.Itdoesn’tmatterifhe’sthepersonIthoughtfeltsomethingforme,becauseintheend,hedisappeared.AndifIkeepimaginingthingsthataren’tthere,that’sexactlywhathe’sgoingtodoagain.
IquietlyshutthedoortothebathroombehindmewhenI’mdone,steppingoutintothehallway.It’sdarkhere,onlyathinsliveroflightcomingfromthelampstilloninthelivingareaattheendofthehall—andmaybethat’swhyIdon’tseehimatfirst.Irunstraightintoabig,solidmasswhenImovetoheadtowardmybedroom,theveryobjectofmyconcerncollidingwithmeinthedarkenedhallwayandthrowingmeoffguard.
Aiden’shandsgrabformyshouldersasifbyinstinct,steadyingme.“Cassie?”
IttakesmybrainasecondtocatchuptothefactthatthepersonI’vebeenobsessivelystressingaboutisnowafootawayfrommeandalsotouchingme.
“Sorry,”Isputter.“Ididn’tseeyou.”
“No,it’sokay.Iwasjust…”Heseemstonoticethenthathe’sstillholdingmyshoulders,jerkinghishandsawayquickly.“Iwasgettingadrink.”
Iglancedowntotheotherendofthehall,wherethebedroomAidenandSophiearesharingliesagoodtenfeetfrommine.“IsSophieasleep?”
“Outlikealight.”
“Well,itwasabigday.”
Henods.“Itwas.”
Webothjuststandthereuncomfortably,AidenrubbingatthebackofhisneckasIstaredownatmyfeet.
“Youhadfuntoday,”hetries.“Right?”
“Ofcourse,”Iassurehim.“Itwasagreatday.”
“Good,good.”
Cassie,youhavetoknow—
Ishouldjustgotosleep.Ishouldgotosleepandforgetthisdayhappened,forgeteverythingIknowaboutwhoAidenisandwhathe’sseen—thatIshouldwakeuptomorrowandcommittodoingmyjobwithoutanydistractions.Icandothat,right?IcanpretendthatAidenmeansnothingmoretomethanbeingSophie’sdad.Ican.
ButapparentlyIcan’tstopopeningmymouth.
“Listen,aboutearlier—”
“Yeah?”
Hiseagertonecatchesmeoffguard,andwhenIlookup,Inoticehisexpressionmatcheshisvoice.Mybrainisgraspingatitlikeastraw.Ihavetoforciblytellittoshutupandsitdown.
“Ijust…I’msorry.IfImadeyouuncomfortable.Idon’twantthingstobeweirdbetweenus.”
“Oh.”Henodsslowly,thateagerlookfizzlingout.“Right.No.Youdidn’t.”
“IthinkIjustmadealotofassumptionsthatweresilly,”Isay,tryingtomakeitintoajoke.
“Silly,”heparrots,notsoundingamusedatall.
Hedoesn’tmakeanythingeasy.
“Ofcourseyouwerejustbeingnice,andIreaditwrong.Ijustdon’twantyoutothinkIcan’tdomyjoborsomethingbecauseIthoughtyoumightbeserious.”
Hedoesn’tsayanything,andwhenIpeekupathim,Inoticehisexpressionnowalmostlookspained.Imustbemakingthisworse.Helookslikehewantstodierightnow.
Iclearmythroat,makingamovetostepawaysoIcanescapetomybedroomandthinkupdifferentwaystopassaway.“Anyway,IguessI’dbetter—”
Suddenly,Aidenhashishandaroundmyupperarm,notsqueezingexactly,butapplyingenoughpressuretoletmeknowhewouldlikemetostayput.Iglancedownathishandinconfusion,thenbackupathimtofindhimstillstaringatthespotI’djuststeppedawayfrom,lookingjustasconfusedthathereachedformeasIam.
“Aiden?”
“It’snot,”hesaystightly,stillnotlookingatme.
Mybrowknits.“What?”
“Silly,”hesays.“It’snotsilly.”
Myheartstartstorace.Itellmyselfnottohope,nottoreadtoomuchintothis,everyinstanceofdoingsothusfarhasleftmedisappointed.
“Idon’tknowwhatthatmeans.”
Aidenshakeshishead.“I’mnotsureIdoeither.”
“Youhavetogivememorethanthat,”Isay,frustrated.“You’rebeingconfusing.”
Aidenlaughs,butit’sstrange.“Ifeelconfusedaroundyou.”
“What?Whatdoesthateven—”
“BecauseIshouldn’tbethinkingaboutyouasmuchasIdo.”
Alltheairleavesmylungsinarush.“What?”
Aidenlooksrightatmethen,andeveninthedarkIcanmakeoutthehungerinhiseyes.It’senoughtotakemybreathaway.“AndIshouldn’tbethinkingaboutyouthewaythatIdo.”
Iknowinthissmallspacethere’snowayhemissesthewayIswallow.“Aiden,I—”
“Youdon’thavetosayanything,”hesighs.“Youprobablyshouldn’t.IknowthatI’moverstepping.It’sjust…IfeellikeI’mgoingcrazy.I’mstartingtothinkthisentirearrangementwasabadidea,butSophiejustlovesyousomuch,andIcan’tbethereasontofuckallofthatupwiththewayIcan’tseemtostop—”
I’mnotsureifit’sthedarknessorthewayhe’sslippingintothisword-vomit-likespeechthatisastarkcontrasttohisusuallycollectedself,buthedoesn’tnoticewhenIpullawayfromhisgrip,whenIstepjustcloseenoughtobridgetheshortdistancebetweenus.Hiswordsdieonhistongueashelooksdownatme,andIcanjustmakeouthiseyes,onebrightandonedarkandbothfixedonme.Icanstillfeelmyheartbeatingatattooagainstmyribs,stillhearthebloodpulsinginmyearsasIquestionmyself,evennow,butsomethingaboutthewayAidenislookingatmegivesmecourage.
“Andwhatif”—Iswallowthickly,mygazedippingfromhismouthbackuptohiseyes—“Idon’twantyoutostop?”
Ihearhisquietgasp.“What?”
“Whosaysthatyou’retheonlyone?WhatifI’vebeenthinkingaboutyoutoo?”
Idon’tthinkit’saconsciousthing,thewayhishandsraiseandhisfingertipsgrazethebitofskinbetweenthehemofmyT-shirtandmycottonshortsthatI’mjustnowrememberinghavelittleheartsalloverthem.
Hisvoiceisimpossiblysoftnow,almosthoarsesounding.“Haveyou?”
“Forweeks,”Iadmit,feelingbold.
Hegripsmyhips.“Thisiscrazy,isn’tit?”
Youdon’tknowthehalfofit.
“Idon’tmindalittlecrazy,”Ibreathe,mymouthinchesfromhis.
Ifeelthehotwarmthofhispalmslideundermyshirt,shapingitselfagainstmywaistasheglancesdowntomychest.“You’rewearingtheshirtagain.”
“It’smyfavorite.”
HemakesasoundI’veneverheardhimmakebefore,somethinglikeagroanandawhinethatIfeelallthewaydowntomytoes.“It’sminetoo.”
HegoesimpossiblystillwhenIpressmyhandstohischest,whenIletthempushhighertogriphisshoulders—finallyallowingmyselftofeeltheshapeofhisbodyagainstmine,likeI’vebeendaydreamingabout.Ifthehardsomethingpressingagainstmybellyisanyindication,Ithinkit’ssafetosayAidenistellingthetruthwhenhesayshe’sbeenthinkingaboutme.
“Thisiscrazy,”hewhispersagain.
Iletmyhandsslidebackdowntothefirmnessofhischest.“Itwouldbecrazierifyoukissedme.”
“CanI?”
“Aiden.”
Hedoesn’tneedanymorehints.
Hismouthisassoftasitlooks,exploringbutgentleashislipscurveagainstmine.Icanfeelthesearchingpressofhistongueasitlicksalongmylowerliplikeaquestion,andIdon’tneedanymorepromptingtoopenandlethiminside.Whenhistonguetouchesmine,it’slikeaswitchhasbeenflipped,andsuddenlyhishandsareatmyjawandinmyhairandeverywhereelse—tuggingandtouchingeverythinghecanreach.Iswallowdownhisneedysoundsashepressesmeagainstthewall,tuckingeachoneawayinmymemorysothatIcantakethemoutlaterlikelittletreasures.
He’sstillhardagainstmystomach,andhishipsrutupwardinanalmostthoughtlessway,likehedoesn’trealizehe’sdoingit.Ifeelhisteethnibbleatmylipandthenhisbreathhotagainstmyjaw,thesensationsallblendingtogetherashistouchsetsmeonfire.
“Wecan’t.”Hisvoicesoundspainedagainstmyskin.“Weshouldn’t—”
Ifeelaflushofpanic.“What?Wecan’t?”
“Nothere,”hegroanssoftly.“Sophie.Shecould…”
LikehellamIlettinghimstopafterrilingmeupthismuch.Ipushhimbackwardtowardthebathroomdoor,graspingbehindhimtoturnthehandleaswerushinside.Hereachestoturnonthelight,andnowthatIcanseehimalllitup—hairamess,mouthredfromkissing—everythingfeelsextremelyreal.
Arewereallydoingthis?
Apparentlyso,ifthewayAideniskissingmyneckisanyindication.
“Thisshirtisverydistracting.”Itiltmyheadbackwhenhismouthwanders,kissingatthebitofmyexposedcollarboneashishandslidesupthefrontofmyT-shirttocupjustbelowmybreast.“Ihaven’tstoppedthinkingaboutit.Aboutwhat’sunderneath.”
“Ididn’tmeanto—”
Imakeasoundwhenhismouthsuddenlycoversmynipplethroughthethinmaterial,asoftcrythatsoundslouderechoingagainstthetilesinthebathroom.Aidenpullsawayimmediately,lookingupatmewithhoodedeyes.“Youhavetobequiet,”hemurmurs.“Canyoudothat?”
“Ican—”Mygaspissofterwhenhislipscovermeagaintosuck,butnolessheavy.“Icanbequiet.”
Hehumsagainstmynippleastheincreasinglywetcottonstartstorubmeinawaythattingles,andmyfingersfindhishairtopushthroughit,holdinghimclose.It’severythingIimagineditwouldbe,himtouchingme,bothnowandayearago—andpartofmeisstrugglingtomakesenseofallofit.
NotthatAidengivesmemuchtimetooverthink.
Ifeelhishandslidingfrommywaisttopressagainstmystomachnow,histhumbstrokingthematerialbetweenmylegsinafeatherlightway.“Tellmetostop,”Aidensaysroughly.“Tellmetostop,ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
“Itisn’t,”Ireassurehim,tuggingathishairtoforcehimtolookupatme.Botheyesseemdarknow,hispupilsdilatedandhisbreathraggedasIgrabhisfacetobringhislipsuptomine.MyvoiceisbarelytherewhenIwhisperagainstthem,“Iwantyou.”
Hiskissisfiercernow,hishandsmoreinsistent,andwhenmyfingerscurlatthewaistbandofhispants,hookingathisunderweartotugitallaway,hisansweringhisselicitsaheartbeatsomewhereotherthanmychest.
“Fuck,”hegrindsoutagainstmymouth.
Itstilldoesthingstome,hismouthutteringfilthywords,butwrappingmyfingersaroundthehard,thicklengthofhiscockdoesmore.Ittwitchesagainstmyhand,throbsinmygripwhenIslidemyfistdowntopumphim,andwhenIcomebackuptothetip,Icanfeelaslickwetnesstherethatcoatsmypalm.
Aidenleansbacktowatchmetouchhim,hishandsfindingmyhipsashiseyesremainfixedonmestrokinghim.Hismouthpartsasheletsoutashakybreath,andthewayheseemstobehangingontohiscontrolbyathreadmakesmefeeloddlypowerful.
“You’regoingtomakemecome,”hegroans.
Ismile.“Ithinkthat’sthepoint.”
“Idon’twanttocomeinyourhand.”
Myhandstills.Ipressmythumbagainstthewetslitatthehead,purposefullycoatingitbeforeIbringittomymouthtolickitawaybeforereturningittostrokehimagain,nevertearingmyeyesfromhis.“Wheredoyouwanttocome,Aiden?”
Heleansintome,hislipsbrushingagainstmyjawandhistonguehotagainstmyskin.“Insideyou.”
“Wecan—”We’repressedsocloselytogetherthatIcanfeeltheheatofhimagainstmybelly,eventhroughthecottonofmyshirt.Ireachformyshortshastilywithmyfreehandtotrytoshovethemaway.“Icangettheseoff,ifyou’lljust—”
“Wecan’t,”hehuffs,likeitpainshim.
Somethinginsidemedeflates.“Oh.I’msorry,Ididn’tmeanto—”
“Iwantto,”heclarifies,“butIdon’thaveanything.Nothere.”
“Oh.Oh.”Iswallownervously.I’mhyperawarethatI’mstilltouchinghiscock.“IhaveanIUD,”Itellhim.“AndI’mnot—Ihaveregularcheckups,so,ifyouwanted…”
Helooksatmewithwildeyes,andIwatchthemtravelfrommyfaceallthewaydowntomyhandthatisstilltouchinghim.
“Ido,”hesays.“YouhavenofuckingideahowmuchIdo.”
“Anddoyou…youknow.Areyou—”
“I’mclean,”hetellsme.
“Oh.Well.Ifyouwantto—”
Placinghishandsatmyhips,liftingmeinonemotionasheturnstosetmeonthebathroomcounter,seemslikehisanswer.Ittakeshimonlysecondstorolleverythingdownmythighstoleavemenakedfromthewaistdown.Hisfingersteasethroughmywetfoldsasmybreathcatches,andthenIfeelhisotherhandcuppingmyasstopullmecloseruntiltheheatofhiscockslotsagainstmetoactuallytakemybreathaway.Hislipsareatmythroatagain,kissingthatspotIhadn’tevenknowncouldaffectmelikethis,andhisvoiceagainstmyskinmakesmeshiver.
“DoyouknowhowmuchI’vethoughtaboutthis?”
Ishakemyhead,oratleastIthinkIdo.Mybrainfeelsfuzzy.
“Fuck,Cassie,youare”—heletsafingerslipinsidemeasmyheadfallsback—“perfect.”Thewayhepumpshisfingerinandoutofmefeelslikeatease,eachpushandwithdrawalleavingmewantingmore.“ThethingsIwanttodotothisprettypussyofyours.”
Jesus.
Ihaven’theardhimusethatwordsincebeforeIknewhisname.Ihaven’thearditsincehewhisperedittomethroughacomputerspeaker,inatimethatfeelssolongagorightnow.
Iwhinewhenhepullshishandaway,butit’sshort-livedwhenIfeelhimsettlingbetweenmylegs,guidinghiscocktonudgeatmyentrance.Hismouthcoversminetoswallowmywhimperwhenhenotchesthere,slowlyeasinginsidetofillme,andheshushesmegentlyasItakeallofhim.
“Quiet,”heremindsme.“Yousaidyoucouldbequiet,Cassie.Remember?”
Ifeelmyselfclencharoundhim,andifIweren’talreadysitting,mykneesmightgiveout.Itfeelssoreminiscentofanothertime,onewherehe’dwhisperedfilthythingstomewithoutevenknowingitwasme,anditmakesmeallthemoreturnedon.AllthetimesI’dimaginedthis,whathe’dfeellike—noneofitcancomparetotherealthing.
Inodbreathlessly,feelinghisshudderedbreathwashagainstmylips.
“Youfeelsogood,”herasps.“Sofuckinggood.”
Hishipsareflushwithminenow,everyhardinchofhimrooteddeepinside.Hefillsmeuntilthere’snoroomleft,andItrembleagainsthim,strugglingtokeepstillonthecounter.“Canyou—ah.Canyoujust—”
“Doyouwantmetomove?”Hekissesmeslowly,rollinghishipsjustenoughtostirmeup.“Doyouwantmetofuckthisperfectpussy?”Icanfeelhimslideagainstmyinnerwalls,andIhavetogriphisshoulderwithmyfreehandjusttosteadymyself.“Tellmeyouwantthat.”
Inodshakily.“Yes.”
“Thankfuck,”hegroans.
Hegripsmyhipstighterthen,pullingoutjusttopushbackinside.Hegruntswhenhefillsme,thesoundharshandsendingashiverdownmyspine,butIdon’thavetimetodwellonitwiththewayhedoesitagain.
Aidenthrustsharder,andIcryout,“Ah.”
“Shh,”hesoothes,hishandreachingtocupmyjawashisthumbpressesagainstmylips.“Begood,Cassie.YouhavetobegoodsoIcanfuckyou.”
IthinkInod,maybe,butIcan’ttell.Notwiththewayhe’sbegunasteadyrhythm,eachthrustbottomingoutasthesoftsoundofourbodiescomingtogetherringsoutagainstthetiles.Ireallyamtryingtokeepquiet,butit’sgettingincreasinglydifficulttobesure.
“Aiden…Aiden,canyou—”
“Tellmewhatyouneed,”hegritsout.“Tellmehowtomakeyoucome.”
“Touchme,”Iwhine.Igrabhishand,bringingitbetweenmylegs.“Canyoutouchme?”
Hepressesagainstmyclitimmediately,rollingtheswollenbudbeneathhisfingertipsasmyheadlollsandmystomachclenches.I’malreadysoclose,thedeliciousfrictionofhiscockinsidememakingmelosemymind—andtheaddedpressureofhisfingersagainstthemostsensitivepartofmeonlymakesthehotpressurebuildingbetweenmylegsthatmuchmoreimminent,likeitmightburstatanymoment.
Hisbreathhuffsagainstmyjaw.“Thisokay?”
“Justlikethat,”Ibreathe.
“Fuck,I’mgonnacome,”hemoanssoftlyagainstmymouth.“Areyouclose?”
I’mtryingtomovewithhimnow.HisfingersslipagainstmyclitasIbracemyhandsagainstthecountertotrytomeethisthrusts,eachonebringingmerightthere
“Justkeep—rightthere—oh.Oh.”
“Cassie,”hegroans.
Maybeit’sthewayhesaysmynamethatdoesit.Maybeit’sthesearingheatofhismouthagainstminejustashistongueslipsinside.Maybeit’shishandsorhiscockorthewarmthofhisbody—regardless,Ifeelmyselfbegintoshakeaseverymuscleinmythighsgoestautandmyinsidestremblearoundhimwithmyorgasm.Icanfeelitwhenheletsgoonlymomentsafter,likehe’dbeenwaitingforme.Icanfeelhiscocktwitchingdeepinsideandhearhislowgruntinmyearthatsetsoffbutterfliesdeep,deepinmystomach—andthenhisfaceisburiedagainstmythroatandhischestisheavingagainstmine.
Westaylikethatforamoment,neitherofusspeakingandbothtryingtocatchourbreath,andIwaitfortheregrettosinkin,fortheworryaboutwhatthiswillmean,butitdoesn’tcome.Thereisnothingbutthesatedqualityofmylimbsandthecomfortingwarmthofhisbodyashishandscontinuetostrokeatmyskin.
Whenhefinallypullsawaytolookatme,theexpressiononhisfaceisequalpartsdazedandawed,likehecan’tquitebelievethatwhatjusthappenedwasreal.Myhandscuphisfacetopullhiminforanotherslowkiss,catchinghisgroaninmymouthwhenhecarefullyslipsoutofme.
Ikisshimagain,softernow,andIfeelhislipscurveagainstmineinasmileasabreathlesschuckleescapeshim.“Thisfeelslikeadream,”hemurmurs.
I’mstillkissinghim.Ican’tseemtostop.“Notadream.”
Heburieshisfaceagainstmychest,nuzzlingbackandforthagainstmybreastsandmakingmegigglequietly.“Thisdamnshirt,”hegrumbles.“Beendrivingmecrazy.”
“MaybeIshouldaskforapajamastipendfrommyboss,”Itease.
“Ithinkhe’dtellyouitwasn’tinthebudget.”Helooksatmeseriouslythen.“Wasit…weird?”
Irearback.“Weird?”
“It’sjust…”Helooksunsurenow.“It’sbeenalongtime,andyou’reso…”Hiseyestraveldownmybody,makingmeshiver.“Igotcarriedaway.”
Oh.
Doyouwantmetofuckthisperfectpussy?
“It’sokay.”Ikisshimgently.“Ilikedit.”
Idon’tknowhowtotellhimthatIknowallabouthisfilthymouth—intimatelyso.
“Good,”herumbles.“BecauseIdon’tseemyselfmagicallygaininganyrestraintwhenitcomestoyouintheforeseeablefuture.”
Ican’thelpmysmile,theanxietythat’sbeenbuildingthislastweekdissipatingandmorphingintothisstrangecalm.Butstill,Ican’thelpbutwonder:
“What—”Iclearmythroat.“Whatdoesthismeanformyjob?”
“What?”Helooksgenuinelyconfused.“Youdon’twanttoleave,doyou?”
“No,no,ofcoursenot!But…isthis…isthisgoingtomakethingsweird?”
“Notifwedon’tletit,”heassuresme.“Wejusthavetomakesurewekeepthingsseparate.”
“Separate?”
“FromSophie,”hesays.“Until…untilweknowwhatthisis.”
Itshouldn’tmakemefeelthewayitdoes,hearingit—it’saperfectlyreasonablethinghe’ssaying,afterall.Itwouldn’tbefairtoSophietoexposehertothiswithoutknowingwhatitis.
SowhydoIfeelsoanxiousallofthesudden?
MymindtravelsbacktosleeplessnightsandredeyesafterAidendisappearedfrommeonce,andIthinknowitwouldbesomuchworse,nowthatIknowhim.
Maybethat’swhyIsaynothing,evenwhenIknowIshould.
Icouldtellhimnow.IcouldtellhimeverythingIknowaboutus,aboutwhatwe’veshared—butthereisatinyvoiceinmyheadthatwarnsmeagainstit.Hewalkedoutofmylifeonce,andIsurvivedthat,butcouldIdoitagain?Now?ThesequestionshavemeshovingdownallthethingsIknowIshouldprobablybesaying,butinsteadIleaninforanotherlingeringkiss.
“I’mokaywithkeepingthingsseparate,”Itellhim.“ForSophie.”
Hepullsmeclose,forcingmetomeethisgaze.“Butthatdoesn’tmeanthisendstonight,”hetellsmepointedly.“Right?”
Mylipscurveinashysmile.“Idon’twantitto.”
“Good,”hesighs.Hekissesmeagain.“BecauseI’mnotdonewithyou,Cassie.Notbyalongshot.”
Ihadn’trealizedhowmuchIneededtohearhimsaythisuntilhedid.Itmakesmefeelgiddy.
Hecarefullyhelpsmedressbeforetuckinghimselfbackinhispants,pullingmedownfromthecounterbeforetiltingupmychintokissmycheek.Ifeelhissmilethere,feelinghisotherhandslidingagainstmyhipasiftomemorizetheshapeofit.
Heflicksoffthelightsinthebathroomashepullsmeoutinthehall,holdingagainstmeforlongerthannecessary,likehe’snotreadytoletmego.IcandefinitivelysaythatIknowthefeeling.
“Goodnight,Cassie.”
“Night,”Iwhisperback,hislowvoicemakingmykneesweak.
HishandslidesdownmyarmwhenIpeelmyselfawayfromhim,hisfingersgrazingmyskinuntiltheyfindmyfingertips,clingingtothemforafewsecondsbeforehefinallyletsmego.Iturnfromhimtoheadbacktomyroom,andittakeseverythingIhavenottoselfishlybeghimtocomebackwithme,justlikeittakesanincredibleamountofeffortnottoturnbacktogetonelastlookathim.
EspeciallysinceIfeelhiseyesonmetheentireway.I’vebeenwaitingforCicitologonforhalfanhour.
Ithinkit’sofficiallysafetosaythatI’malittleobsessed.
Doesn’tstopmefromcontinuingtowait.
CHAPTER12Aiden
Ispendtheentirenightthinkingabouther.
Sleephasbeenimpossible,andI’mleftstaringattheflatwhiteceilingoftheAirbnbwithasnoringSophiesprawledoutnexttome,wishingI’dbookedusaplacewithadoublebedroom,ormaybeevenanotherbedroomforheraltogether.IgooverallthereasonswhyitwouldbeabadideatosneakofftoseeCassieagain.EverytimeIclosemyeyes,I’mmetwiththememoryofhersoftsoundsandsofterbody—thesensationofhowitfelttobeinsideherpracticallyoverridingeverycornerofmybrainandmakingahomethere.
Ieventuallygiveuponsleepaltogethersometimeintheearlymorning,leavingmyroomwhileSophieisstillsleepingandclosingthedoorquietlybehindmewiththeintentofmakingcoffee.IlosemytrainofthoughtwhenIspotCassieinthekitchen,whoapparentlyhadthesameidea.Ihaven’tactuallyconsideredthemorningafteryet,howwemightacttogetherafterlastnight;maybeIthoughtitwouldbeawkwardwiththethingswesaidandthethingswedid,butseeinghernow—wide-eyedwithherauburnhairslightlymussedandherlipsstillredandabitswollenfrommykisses—allIcanthinkaboutishowmuchIwanttotouchheragain.
She’snolongerwearingthatfuckingshirtthatdrivesmecrazy,buteveninhercottonT-shirtandjeanshorts,it’shardnottothinkaboutwhatherskinfeelslikeagainstmyhandsunderneathherclothes.
“Goodmorning,”shesaysshyly,hidinghersmilebehindamug.“Imadecoffee.”
Ireturnhergrin,tryingnottothinkabouthowIknowwhathernipplesfeellikeagainstmytongueorhowmuchIregretthefactthatshe’swearingabrathismorning.“Morning.”
“Doyouwantmetomakeyouacup?”
“After.”
“After?”
Icrossthespacebetweenusquickly,takingherbysurprisewhenmyhandsrestatherjaw,tippingupherfacetopressmymouthtohers.Shesighssoftlyintoit,partingherlipstochaseaftermytongue,andIcantastethesweetnessofthesugarandcreamfromhercoffeethere.BeforeIpullaway,Itakejustenoughtogetmethroughtheday,unsureofwhenIwillbeabletoproperlytouchheragain.
“After,”Iclarify.
“Well,I’dsaythisisabetterwake-upcallthancoffee,”sheteases.
“Didyousleeplastnight?”
“Notreally.”
“NeitherdidI.”
Ireachtotuckonestraytendrilofhairbehindherear,lettingmythumblingerathercheektoswipebackandforth.ItmightbethefirsttimeI’veallowedmyselftoreallydrinkherin,tooafraidbeforethistoletmygazelingerfortoolong.Everythingabouther—fromthedelicateshapeofhernosetothefullnessofhermouthandthebrightnessofhereyes—seemsmeanttodrawmein.It’smakingmewanttokissheragainverybadly.
Ishakemyhead.“HowamIgoingtokeepfromtouchingyouallthetime?”
“You’rejustgoingtohavetolearnsomeself-control,Mr.Reid.”
Mycockdoesn’tseemtohavegottenthememothatwehavetokeepthingsdiscreet.“Iprobablyshouldn’tlikethat.”
“Ithoughtitmadeyoufeelold?”
“Notwhenyousayitlikethat,itdoesn’t.”
“Hmm.”Shetransfershermugtoonehand,reachingoutwiththeothertoteaseherfingerbackandforthagainstthebitofskinjustunderthehemofmyT-shirt.“I’llkeepthatinmind.”Shepushesuponhertoestopressanotherquickkisstomymouthbeforegivingmystomachagentlepushtoputdistancebetweenus.“NowgositdownsoIcanmakeyouacup.”
“Yes,ma’am,”Imurmur.
Isettleonabarstoolatthecounter,lettingmychinrestagainstmyfist.It’seasytowatchherwork;allI’vewantedtodoforweeksiswatchhermoreopenly,andnowthatI’mallowedto,IthinkI’llhaveahardtimedoinganythingelse.Shesetsmycoffeeinfrontofmefromtheothersideofthecounter,leaningoverittotakeaslowsipfromherownmugassheholdsmygaze.There’satensiontherethatspeaksofeverythingwe’vedoneandeverythingIstillhopetodo—alreadycalculatinghowImightgetherintomybedorinsertmyselfintohers.
Shecocksherheadatme.“Sohowdoesthiswork?”
“Howdoyouwantittowork?Youholdallthepowerhere,Cassie.”
Hermouthquirks.“Oh,doI?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well…I’mhopingyou’llstopmakingyourselfscarcewhileSophieisatschool.”
“IthinkyoucanguesswhyIwasdoingthatinthefirstplace.”
Hersmileturnscoy.“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
“Don’tyou?”
“Maybeyoushouldexplainittomeinmoredetail.”
“Areyouteasingme,Cassie?”
“Iwouldnever,”sheassuresme,lookinginnocentforalloftwosecondsbeforeshewinksatme.“Unlessyouaskedmeto.”
IhavetostifleagroanasIhearthebedroomdooropendownthehall,tensingwhenIhearSophie’slittlefootstepsandquietgoodmorningassheshufflesintothekitchen.“I’mhungry,”shecomplains.
CassiehasnoneofthetrepidationthatIdo.“There’sprincessSophie,”shegushes.“Doyoufeeltentoday?”
Sophiemakesaface.“Notreally.”
“Youlookten,”Cassiesaysseriously.“Didyougettallersinceyesterday?”
“What?”Sophiereachestopressherhandtothetopofherhead.“No,Ididn’t.”
“Idon’tknow…”Cassiecastsmeaslylook.“Wemighthavetoletyoudriveushome.”
“Ican’tdrive!”
Ilaughatthepairofthem.“I’llbedoingthedriving,thankyou.”
“Oh,holdon,”Cassiesays.
Sheturnsfromusbothandheadstowardherroom,disappearingforamomentbeforeshereturnswithsomethingbehindherback.ShebendsdowntoSophie’slevel,flashingabrilliantsmileasshepullsoutasmallbouquetthatconsistsofbrightsunflowersanddaisiesandsomelightblueflowerIdon’trecognize.Sophiestaresatitforamomentwithanopenmouth,takingseveralsecondstomeetCassie’seyesandgingerlytaketheflowers.
“Happybirthday,Sophie,”Cassiesayssoftly.
Sophie’slittlelipquiversslightly,gentlylayingthebouquetonthecounterbeforeshecollideswithCassie’swaist,wrappingherarmsthereforahug.“Thankyou,”shemumblesintoCassie’sshirt.
Cassiesqueezeshertightbeforekissingherhair.“You’rewelcome.”
I’mstillnotentirelysurewhat’shappening,butseeingtheexchangebetweenCassieandSophieismakingmychestfeeltight.Watchingthem,italmostfeelslikethey’vebeenineachother’slivesforever.HowdoesCassiemakeeverythingseemsoeasy?
“Don’tcry,”Cassiefusses,hervoicethickasshereachestowipeunderSophie’seyes.“You’llmakemecry.AndI’masuper-uglycrier.”
Thiselicitsawaterylaughfrommydaughter,andCassieurgeshertoturnbeforepushinghertowardthebedroomshecameoutof.“Gowipeyourface.We’lltalkaboutbreakfastwhenyougetback.”
Sophienodsheavilybeforeheadingbackdownthehall.Iwaituntilshe’soutofsightbeforeIopenmymouth,stillalittleconfused.“Whatwasthatabout?”
“Oh.”Cassielookssheepishnow.“Shetoldmetheotherdaythathermomusedtogiveherflowersonherbirthday.Ijustthought…”Sherubsherarm.“IhadtimethismorningsinceIcouldn’tsleep,soIgoogledandfoundashopnearby.”
Foramoment,I’mtoostunnedtosayanything.NotjustbecauseIamreelingoverthefactthatIdidn’tknowthisaboutSophieandRebecca’srelationship—Sophiehascertainlynevermentionedit—butalsobecauseCassiedoesknowthisaboutSophieandRebecca’srelationship.Andnotonlythat,butapparentlyherfirstinstinctuponlearningitwastogooutofherwaytoreplicateitjustfornootherreasonthantoSophiehappy.I’mhavingahardtimeevenpinningdownwhattheemotionisthatI’mexperiencingoverthis.
“Thankyou,”Isaythickly.“Thatwas…”Myheartisbeatingsoloud.Canshehearit?“Thatwasamazingofyou.”
“It’snobigdeal,”shemumbles,lookingathershoes.
Iwanttokisshersobadly,itactuallyhurts.“Itreallyis,”Iassureher.“Trustme.”
Cassie’slipsturnupinashysmile,andIcandolittlemorethansitatthecounter,wrestlingwiththeswirlingemotionsraginginmychest.
“I’mstillhungry,”Sophieannounces,choosingthatmomenttoburstbackintothekitchen.Apparentlyshe’sgottenoverherboutofemotionfromearlier.“Canweeat?”
“Okay,okay,”Cassiechuckles.“Whatarewehungryfor?”
“Iwantpancakes.”
“Youalwayswantpancakes.”
“Funnyhowsheusedtonotlikethem,”Imurmur.
“SoIdon’thaveanythingheretomakethem,”CassietellsSophie,“butIbetwecouldfindaplacetogetyousomepancakes.”
Sophielooksskeptical.“Withchocolatechips?”
“Ofcoursewithchocolatechips,”Cassietellsher.SheopensherarmsthentobeckonSophiecloser,pullingherintosmoothherhairasshegivesSophieaplayfulsmile.“Yourhairisaswildasyourdad’swhenyouwakeup.”
IwatchCassiefussoverSophie’shairastheybothlaugh,thatsameconstrictingsensationinmychestwhenCassiepullsherinforahugandpressesanotherkisstoherhair,justlikeIoftendo.Watchingthemtogethermakesmefeelodd,somethingaboutthenaturalwaytheyhavecometocareabouteachotherthrowingmeoffguard.Itmakesmefeel—forlackofabetterphrase—warmandfuzzyinside.
“Wehavetogetontheroadsoonanyway,”Itellthemboth.“IdohavetogoinearlytonightsinceImissedlastnight.Wecanfindsomenon-dadpancakesontheway.”
Sophieflashesmethattoothygrinthatmakesmyhearthurt,andCassiepullsheralongwithapromisetofixherhair.ShelooksbackatmefromoverhershoulderassheleadsSophietowardthebathroom,sendingawinkmywaythatmakesmefeelwarminadifferentkindofway.
Ifinishmycoffeealone,mymindfarawayandonthetwoladiesintheotherroom.
Imightbeinrealtrouble.
—
ThetriphometakeslongerthanexpectedsincethepancakeplacethatSophiepickedwasthirtyminutesoutoftheway,butthewayshehasn’tstoppedtalkingaboutthechocolate-chip-birthday-cakepancakemonstrosityshehadtheremakesitworthit.Andshehasn’t.Stoppedtalkingaboutit.Notevenwhenwe’rewalkingintothehouse.
“Buthowdidtheygetthelittlecolorsinthere?Theytastedsogood.Likesprinkles!Butontheinside!”
Cassielaughsasshesetsherbagatthefootofthestairs.“It’slikeaFunfetticake.”
“What’sthat?”
“Youdon’tknowwhataFunfetticakeis?”
Sophieshakesherhead,andCassiegaspstheatrically.“Okay.WewillbegoingtothestoreandbuyingaboxmixofFunfetticakeassoonasyourdadgoestowork.”
Sophiefistpumps.“Yes.”
“Boxmix?”IraisemyeyebrowinCassie’sdirection.“Really?”
Sheshrugs.“Don’tworry,I’llbesuretogetridofalltheevidencebeforeyoucomehomesoitdoesn’toffendyourdelicatechefsensibilities.”
“CanIcallWanda?”SophietugsonCassie’shandexpectantly.“ItoldherI’dcallherandtellheraboutthetrip!”
“Yeah,okay,”Cassiesays,diggingherphonefromherpocket.“Tellherwe’llbringhersomecakeinalittlewhile.”
Sophie’seyeslightupasshesnatchesthephoneaway,alreadyboundingupthestairstowardherroom.Iwaituntilshedisappearsbeyondthelanding,listeningtoherfootstepsonthestairsforafewmoments.
“Youknow,”CassieteaseswhileIwatchthestairsdistractedly.“Ifyouasknicely,Imightsaveyousomecake.Butyou’regoingtohavetosaysomethingniceaboutboxmi—oh.”
ShemakesasurprisedsoundwhenIsuddenlycrowdhertotheothersideofthestairs,backingherintothelittlealcovebeyondthesetteeandcuppingherfacetotilthermouthtomine.Itonlytakesherasecondtomeltintoit,herarmswindingaroundmyneckandherfingersteasingthroughmyhairasshekissesmeback.Idon’tknowwhatitisaboutCassiethatcausesmetodevolveintoaruttingteenager,butit’stakeneverybitofmypatiencetowaitaslongasIhavetotouchheragain.
She’ssmilingwhenshefinallypullsaway,herlipsalittleredderthantheywereamomentago.“Hi.”
“I’msorry,”Imurmur.“I’vebeenwantingtodothatforhoursnow.”
“Wow,youmusthavebeensuffering.Icouldn’teventell.”
“JustassumegoingforwardthatIalwayswanttodothat.”
Shebitesherliptokeepfromgrinningwider.“Goodtoknow.”
“I’mgoingtohavetofigureoutabettermethodofrestrainingmyself,”Isigh.
“Ornot,”shesaysinnocently.“Ikindoflikeyouunrestrained.”
“Youmakeitvery,veryhardtobegood.”
Shepressesuponhertoestokissmycheek.“Maybeyoushouldbebadthen.”
Ihavetoclosemyeyesandthinkaboutsomethingelsejusttokeepfromgettinghard.Thisisabsolutelynotthetime.“You’regoingtokillme.”
“Never.”Sheuntanglesherselffromme,pattingmyshoulderplayfully.It’samazingtomethatonenightcouldsomehoweradicateallthetensionbetweenus.IfI’dknownthiswasthesolution,Imighthaveproposeditsooner.“Prettysureyou’resupposedtobegettingreadyforwork.”
“Yeah,”Isigh.“Gonnabeagreatnight.”
“MaybeIshouldgiveyousomethingtolookforwardto?”
It’sprobablypathetic,thewayIvisiblyperkup.“Oh?”
Shecomescloser,reachingtoletherfingerstracetheshapeofmybottomlip.“Somethingtocomehometo.”
“It’sgoingtobelate…”
Shesmilessweetlythen,reachingagain,andIcanfeelmyeyesclosinginanticipationofherkiss.“It’sfine.”Shepressesherlipssoftlyagainstmine,pullingawayafterandbringingherhanduptotapmynose.“I’lljustleaveyourpieceofcakeonthecounter.”
She’slaughingassheskipsaway,andI’mleftdumbfoundedforafewsecondsbeforeitclickswhatshe’ssaid.Ishakemyhead,pinchingthebridgeofmynoseasIhearherstartupthestairsafterSophie.
“Shereallyisgoingtokillme,”Imuttertonoone.
—
Workishell,justasexpected.
Twoofmylinecookswereoutwithabugthat’sapparentlygoingaround,andIhadtosendmysous-cheftothefuckinghospitalafteranincidentwithaknifethatrequiredstitches.It’sliketheuniversedecidedtopunishmefortakinganightoff.
IwassoreadytoleavebytheendofthenightthatIhadn’tevenbotheredtakingoffmychefcoat,onlyunbuttoningthetopbuttonasIstepthroughthefrontdoorofthehouseandsighingwithrelieftobehome.Ihangmykeysonthehookasalways,stretchingasI’mfinallyabletoshakeawaythestressfromtonight’sdinnerservice.
MyeyesfindCassie’sclosedbedroomdoor,aflickeroftemptationsparkinginsideasIcheckmywatch,butit’snearlymidnight.
“Damn,”Imutter.
Notthatitwouldhavebeenacceptabletowakeherupjusttotouchheranhourago,butstillIcan’tpretendI’mnotthinkingaboutit.IundoanotherbuttonofmycoatasIrunmyfingersthroughmyhair,pushingthedesireawayandstartingupthestairsasIresignmyselftoashowerandbed.ItellmyselfIcanrestrainmyselfforonenight.I’vebeendoingitforweeks,afterall.
Mydecisionmeansthatit’sacompletesurprisewhenIfeelatugatthebackofmycoatthatpullsmebackwardintoanowopendoor.Itclosesbehindmeasasmaller,softerbodypressesmeagainstit,andthenI’mmetwithatemptingsmilelitbythenearbylamp.
“Cassie?”
“ItoldyouIwantedtogiveyousomethingtolookforwardto.”
EverythingI’vebeentryingtopackawaystartstryingtoclawitselfbacktothesurface.“Whathappenedtothecake?”
“Oh,itwasahugesuccess,”sheassuresme.“Ifthat’swhatyou’dratherhave,there’sstillsomeupstairs…”
“Hardly.”
“Mm.”Herfingerteasesatthethirdbuttonofmycoatthat’sstilldone.“Longnight?”
“Fuckingterrible.”
Shepopsopenthebuttoneasily,notlookingatme.“Boo.WhatcanIdotohelp?”
“Areyousureyou’renottired?It’spracticallymid—”
Shepopsopenanotherbutton,shushingme.“Areyoureallyworriedaboutmysleeprightnow?”
“I—”Anotherbutton,enoughfabricgappingsothatshecanslipherhandinsideandpressherpalmtomychest.“No.Notreally.”
I’mrewardedwithhersmileasshereacheswithherotherhandtoundothesecondtolastbutton.“Thischefjacketthingisactuallykindofhot.”
That’soneIhaven’theardbefore.
Inoticewhatshe’swearingnow,frowning.“IseeI’mnottheonlyonewearingbuttons.”
“Someonecomplainedaboutmypajamaslastnight.”
Ipressmyhandtoherhip,lettingmythumbflickatoneofthelargewhitebuttonsonherpurplepajamashirt.Therearecatsalloverit.“Areyouacatperson?”
“Whoisn’tacatperson?”
“They’rekindofpretentious.”
“Oh,wow.”Cassielaughs.“Didyouknowcatshavemorethanahundredvocalcords?”
“AreyoureallygivingmeSnapplefactsrightnow?”
“I’msorry.”ShepullsatthepiecesofmycoatbeforesheteasesherfingersunderthehemoftheT-shirtI’mwearingunderneath.“Areyounotturnedonbyuselesstrivia?”
Iclosemyeyesasherfingersslideovermyabdomen.“Thisseemsonesided.”
“Youdon’tlikemypajamas?”
“I’dlikethembetteronthefloor.”
Shebitesherlip.“YounevertoldmehowIcouldhelpyoufeelbetter.”
“Icouldthinkofafewways,”Imurmur,toyingwithherbuttonsnow.“Ifyou’dtakethisoff.”
There’saflashofsomethinginherexpressionthen,justatinyflickerofhesitancebeforeshestartspullingmebacktowardherbed.ShetugsatmycoatuntilI’mforcedtocrawloverher,herbackfallingagainstthecomforterasshetugsmymouthdowntohers.
I’mstillfumblingwithhertopevenasshehelpsridmeofmycoat,andbythetimeshe’syankingupmyshirttourgeitovermyhead,I’vemanagedtoundoallofherbuttonsashershirtpartssothatIcanseemore.
“Fuck,Cassie,”Ibreathe,mouthsuddenlydry.
Feelingherisonething,seeingisanother.She’sallsoftswellsandprettypinknipples—herbreastsspillingoutofmyhandwhenIcupthemasthestiffeningpeaksbegformymouth.
“Ah.”
HersoftcrywhenIwrapmylipsaroundhernippletoletmytongueteasethereonlyworsensthegrowingsituationinmypants,butItellmycocktobackthefuckoffandletmeenjoythis.I’vebeenfantasizingaboutdoingthisforaslongasI’vebeenmentallykickingmyownassforfantasizingaboutdoingthis.HerfingerstangleinmyhairasIpullatthetautbudwithmylips,swirlingmytonguetherejusttoelicitmoreofhersounds.
Becausetheyareaddicting.
Cassiedoesn’thidethem,doesn’ttrytoquietherself,andIamverygratefulforthefloorbetweenusandSophie’sroomasherquietmewlsblendintosharpgaspsthathaveherbackbowing.
“IthoughtIwassupposedtomakeyoufeelbetter,”shesaysbreathilyaboveme.
IflickmytongueacrossonenippleasIreachtorolltheotherbetweenmyfingers,speakingdirectlyagainstherskin.“Thisismakingmefeelbetter.”
“Oh.”Shesquirmswhenmyteethgrazejustbelowherbreast,kissingapathoverherribs.“Don’tyouwantto—”
Ireachtopinherhipagainstthebed.“Bestill.ThisiswhatIwant.”
“O-okay,”shemanagesairily,andIcanfeelherrelaxing.“I’dhatetogetintheway.”
Ichuckleagainstherbelly.“Iappreciateit.”
I’mholdingmybreathwhenIstarttorollhersoftshortsdownherthighs,leavingherinyellowunderwearthatarecoveredinPopsicles.“Iseverythingyouowninsomesortofprint?”
“Allofmyunderwear,atleast.”
“Somethingtolookforwardto,”Imutter.IpeekupatherwhenIhookmyfingersintotheelasticbandatherhips.“Isthisokay?”
“Imean.”Herlipstiltupdreamilyinashysmile.“Ifthat’swhatmakesyoufeelbetter.”
It’salltheinvitationIneed.I’mnotsurewhereherunderwearendsupsinceIpracticallytossthemovermyshoulder,andrightnowIdon’tcare.Herthighsaresoftandinviting,pressingtogetherprettilyasifshe’sembarrassedbythewayI’mlookingather.IurgethemapartwithmyhandsasIbrushmypalmuptheinsideofone,swallowingwhenIcanseeallofher.
Herneatcurlsarethesamedeepredofherhair,aperfectcontrasttotheslickpinkbetweenherlegsthatmakesmefeelferal.Islideaknucklethroughthewetcreaseofher,herhipsshiftingimpatientlyandherbreathcatching.
“Aiden…”
“You’resoprettyhere,”Imanage,myvoicetight.“CanIusemymouth?”
“What?”Shelooksconcerned.“Oh.Idon’t—”
Ican’tstoptouchingher,stillteasingherwithmyfingers.“Youdon’tlikeit?”
“It’snotthat,Ijust…”Shebitesherlip.“I’veneverbeenabletocomethatway.”
“What?”
“Idon’tknow.Iprobablyhaveabustedvagina.”
Isnort,andIthinkshemighthavebeenabouttolaugh,untilitbreaksoffintoachokedsoundwhenIteaseherentrance.“No.Youdon’t.”
“I’djusthateforyoutowasteyourtime.Wecouldjusthavesex.”
Ifrown,watchingherlookupatmewithworriedeyesasIthinkaboutalltheassholeswhoapparentlydidn’ttakethetimewithherthattheyshouldhave.Whichonlymakesmefeelstrangelyfurious,knowingsomeotherassholehastouchedher.Ididn’tevenknowIwasthejealoustypeuntilthisexactmoment.
“Icanpromiseyou”—I’malreadyurgingherthighstopartwiderasIsettlebetweenthem—“thatthisisnotawasteoftimeforme.”
“O-oh,well,ifyou’resureyou—oh.”
Iclosemyeyeswhenmytonguefirstglidesthroughherwetfoldstotasteher,herflavoronmytongueeroticandheadyandalmosttoomuch.HerthighstrembleundermyhandswhenIdoitagain,andIshiftagainstthemattresstoseeksomereleaseforhowhardshe’smademe,justfromthis.
IteasemytongueuphercenteruntilIfindthathotlittlebundlethatisjustalittlefirmer,circlingitslowlyasherbreathcatches.I’mtakingmytimetoworkheruptoit,wantingtomakeupforallthetimesshe’snevercomethisway.Fuck,IthinkIcouldspendhoursbetweenherlegsifshe’dletme.
BecauseCassieisfuckingintoxicating.
It’sthewayherbreathhitcheswhenItouchtherightplace,thewayshepressesagainstmyfacewhensheneedsmore,thewayherthighscinchagainstmyearswhenshethinksshecan’ttakeit.BythetimeI’vewrappedmylipsaroundhernow-swollenclit,suckingatittodrawouteverydropofherpleasurethatIcan—I’mhavingtoholdherdowntokeepherfromwrithingawayfromme.
“Bestill,”Imurmuragainsther.“You’regoingtocomeonmytongue,Cassie.”
“I’m—Ithink—”
Idon’twanttogivehertimetothink,flickingherclitwithmytonguebeforeresumingmymissionoftryingtosuckitintomymouth.Herfingersfindpurchaseinmyhair,andevenwiththeslightsting,mycockthrobs,herhipsrollingagainstmyfaceevidencethatshe’slostinit.ThatshewantsmetomakehercomejustasbadlyasIwanttogiveittoher.
Icantellwhenshe’sclose—herhipsliftfromthebedandherfingerstangleinmyhair—everylittlemovementandsoundmakingmethatmuchharder,thatmuchmoredesperatetofuckher.ButI’mdeterminedtoholdoutuntilI’vereducedhertoashakingmessagainstmytongue.Herstutteredbreathhasturnedtowhimperedpleasofmoreandrightthere,andIholdhersteadyasIworkherclitwithmylipsandtonguetopushherovertheedge.
“Aiden.Aiden.Keep—rightthere—oh.Don’tstop.”
Shedoesn’tfullyletgountilIslidetwofingerstodipinsideher,keepingherfullwhileIdevoteallmyattentiontothetautbudbetweenmylips.I’mstillthinkingaboutfillingherwithsomethingelsewhenwe’redonehere,andthat’senoughtohavemedizzywhenherfingersgraspatmyhair.Shemakesaprettysoundwhenshecomes,aquietgaspthatseemstocomefromdeepinsideher,andherentirebodytremblesandshakesasshefallsapart.
It’sfuckingbeautiful.
Idon’tstopuntilshe’sactivelypullingmeaway,whimperingmynameoverandoverasshesaysshecan’ttakeanymore.Iliftmyheadtoseeherflushedface,feelingoutofbreathandtoowarmasshesmilesatmewithglazedeyes.
“Thatwas…something.”
Iturnmyfacetoslideagainstherthigh,wipingmymouthonherskin.“Ifeelmuchbetter.”
“I’mhappytobeofservice,”shemurmurs.“Comebackanytime.”
I’mlaughingwhenIcrawloverher,runningafingerdownonesideofheropenpajamatopbeforedraggingitoverherchestthatstillheavesslightly.“I’vegotsomethingelseinmindnow.”
“Well.”Herarmswindaroundmyneckasshepullsmedowncloser.“Whatevermakesyoufeelbetter,Mr.Reid.”Chatwith@alacarte
@alacarte
sentyoua$75tip
IwishIcouldmakeyousweatlikethat.
CHAPTER13Cassie
Evenafterablissfulnightoforgasms,it’shardnottobealittletensethefollowingmorning.IkeepcheckingtheclockonthekitchenstoveasIcountdownuntilthetimethatIrisissupposedtoarrivethismorning,lefttomyowndevicessinceAidenranouttothegym.(IsuspecthisconvenientabsenceduringIris’svisitmightevenbeonpurpose,althoughheavidlydeniesit.)IamplacatingmyselfwithrememberinghowexcitedSophieistoseeheraunt.
Bythetimethedoorbellrings,I’mdownrightjumpy,andIshootupfromthecouchevenasIhearSophieboundingdownthestairsandrushingpastmedowntothefirstlevelasItoddleafterher.IrisalwayslooksdifferentwithSophie—hertersedemeanorfadingintheembraceofthislovablelittlegirl,andIcan’thelpbutwishIcouldfindsomebridgetothatIris.IknowitwoulddothisentirehouseholdaworldofgoodifIcouldsomehowdrawthatsideofheroutmore.Asexpected,herexpressionchangeswhenshenoticesmelingeringatthebottomofthestairs,givingmeacurtnodasshebreaksawayfromSophie’sgrasp.
“Hey,”Ioffer,givinganawkwardwave.
Ourlastencounterisstillfreshonmymind,andIimaginethesamecanbesaidforIris.Itmakesforatensegreeting,that’sforsure.Especiallysinceallthethingsshehadinsinuatedaboutmehaveturnedouttobedecidedlytrue.
Anothernodformytrouble.“Morning,”Irisanswers.
SophienoticesthegiftbaginIris’shandthen,squealingexcitedly.“Isthatmypresent?”
“Yep,”Irissayswithagrin.“Doyouwanttoopenit?”
“Yes!”
Sophiesnatchesthebaggreedily,flouncingawayfromthebothofusassheskipsupthestairsbacktothelivingroom,leavingIrisandmelingeringintheentryway.IclearmythroatasIrubmyarm,tryingforapolitesmile.
“Haveyoueaten?Iwasgoingtomakebreakfastsoon.”
Irisshakesherhead.“That’sokay,”shetellsme.“Ihadabagelonthewayover.”
“Oh,okay.”
Thereisanotherlongspanofsecondswherewebothjuststandthere,untilIdecideIcan’ttakeitanymore.“Hey,abouttheotherday—”
“Ishouldapologize,”Iriscutsin.
Iblinkinsurprise.“What?”
“Imadesomeprettyrudeinsinuations.”Shelooksdownatherfeet.“IhaveahardtimecomingtotermswithSophiespendingthebulkofhertimewithsomeonewhoisn’tme.”
Icanalmostseepasthertoughexteriorthen,genuineemotionpeekingthroughasherbrowfurrowsandhermouthturnsdown.“Oh,well…”Ishiftmyweightfromonefoottotheother.“Iimagineit’sgottobehard.”IgobackandforthonwhetherornotIshouldinvolvemyselfmoreinthisstrainedsituation,finallydecidingthatIwon’tbeabletolivewithmyselfifIdon’t.“Youknow,Iwouldneverwanttogetinthewayofyouspendingtimewithher,”Istress.“Maybewecouldworktogetherhere.Sophieneedsyou,”Isay.“LikeIsaidtheotherday…sheneedseveryoneshecanget.”
Irislooksgenuinelysurprised,hermouthpartingslightlyassheprocesseswhatI’vesaid.Shenodsfinally,aslowconcession,takingadeepbreathonlytoexpelit.“You’reright.Shedoesneedthat.”Shelooksdownatherfeetagain.Igetthesensethatapologiesdon’tcomeeasytoher.“Aidenhintedthatyoumightberesponsibleformyinvitationtohertriptheotherday.”
“Oh,no,”Iargue.“Sophiewantedyouthere!IjusttoldAidenitmightmakethingseasierifhe—”Irisislookingatmestrangely,andIclampmymouthshut.“Anyway.IjustwantSophietobehappy.”
“I’mstartingtounderstandthat,”Irisanswerssincerely.
Littlevictories.Icelebrateinternally.
“Youguys!”Sophiecallsfromthefloorabove.“Areyoucoming?”
Irissharesasmallsmilewithme,andthisfeelslikeavictorytoo.“Ithinkwe’rebeingsummoned.”
“I’velearnedpatienceisn’thervirtue,”Ichuckle.
Irisfollowsmeupthestairs,whereSophieissittinginthemiddleofthelivingroombesideanow-emptysackandapileoftissuepaper,holdingthreenewgamesforherNintendoSwitch.
“Cassie!”Sophieholdsoutonegameinparticular.“AuntIrisgotmeAnimalCrossing!”
“Ohboy,”Igush,fallingtomykneesbesideher.“That’sexactlywhatyouwanted.”
“Youcanbuildyourownislandinthisone!”
“Well,thatsoundslikeadream,”Itellher.
Sophieisalreadyreadingthebackcoversofeachofhernewgames,andIturntoIris,whoisstandingnearbywithherarmscrossedtogiveherathumbs-up.I’mrewardedwithanothersmallsmile;todayisfullofallsortsofvictories,Ithink.
Sophieholdsupanothercase.“ShegotmeSonic,too!”
“Oh,that’sthemovieyou’vebeenbuggingmetogosee,right?”
Sophierollshereyes.“That’sSonicTwo,”shecorrectsme.“Itlookssofunny!”
“Iknow,Iknow,butIhavelabsthisweekend.Maybewecangoonedayafterschoolnextweek,ormaybe—”
Ihaveanideathen,strikingmeoutofnowhere.IcanfeelmymouthhangingasIturntoIris,thinkingthatmaybeIcangainmorepointsherewiththeterseauntwhoisjuststartingtowarmuptotheideaoflikingme.
“Hey,”Icall,pointingatIriswhilemyideastillpingsaroundinmyhead.“Doyouhavetoworktoday?”
Irisfrowns.“Later?Ihavetotakeoverformyclerkattwo.Shehasanappointment.”
“Whydon’tyouandSophiegotoamovie?Youcouldgetbreakfast,orlunchafter—whateveryouwant.Imean,ifyouwantto?”
It’sthesecondtimeI’vesurprisedIristhismorning,ifherexpressionisanyindication.“DoyouthinkAidenwouldbeokaywiththat?”
“I’lltexthim,”Iassureher.“I’lltellhimitwasallmyidea,promise.ButIthinkhewillbefine.Wecanjustswapnumbersincasesomethingcomesup,andIneedtocomegether.Whatdoyouthink?”
“Thatsounds…”Iris’sarmsslowlyuncrossasshelooksbetweenSophieandme,stillalittlestunned.“Thatsoundsgreat,actually.Ifyou’resureit’sokay.”
Technically,I’mnotonehundredpercent,butIamprettyconfident,atleast.
“Sophie.”Iturntoaddressher.“DoyouwanttogowithAuntIris?”
Sophienodsenthusiastically.“Yes!”
“Whydon’tyougoupstairsandchangewhileItextyourdad?I’msurehe’llbefinewithit.Youtwocanhaveapropergirls’dayforyourbirthday.”
Sophiehopsup,snatchinguphergamesbutleavinghermess,practicallysprintingpastustowardthestairsassheheadsupherroom.IpullmyphoneoutofmypockettoshootatexttoAiden,fairlypositivehewillbeokaywiththisideabutwantingtomakeabsolutelysurebeforeIsendthemoutthedoor.I’mpreparedtoconvincehimthatitis,ifneedbe.
“Thankyou,”Irissaysbehindme.Iturntofindherfeatureshavesoftenedconsiderably,gratitudeshininginhereyes.“Seriously.”
“Don’tworryaboutit,”Itellher.“Sophie’shappinessisthemostimportantthinghere,right?”
Irisnods.“Right.”
“Well,you’reapartofthat.”
“Ireallyappreciatethat,”Irissays,almostlikeshe’srelievedtohearit.
Maybeshe’dbeguntodoubtit.
“Youtwogoandhavefun,”Iurge.“I’vegotsomehomeworkIcancatchupon.You’repracticallydoingmeafavorhere.”
Iris’smouthquirks.“Right.”
Igrinbackather,doingamentalfistpump.ItseemslikeImaybefindingthecracksinthiswoman’sarmorafterall.Evenifonlyalittle.
GoodthingI’mincrediblypatient.
—
Afteranhourofhangingoutinmyroomstaringatmylaptop,Ifinallyrelaxenoughtostopcheckingmyphone.IhavehadtoremindmyselfnumeroustimesthatAidenapprovedIrisandSophie’souting,andthatsomeonewilldefinitelyletmeknowifI’mneeded.
It’sfunny,I’mworryingaboutSophielikeshe’sactuallymykidorsomething
I’mloungingonmybedwiththedoortomyroomslightlyajar,andIhearitwhenAiden’skeysjingleinthedoor,whenitopensandclosestosignalhisarrival.
“Cassie?”
“Inhere,”Icall,closingmylaptop.
Heappearsinmydoorframetoleanagainstit,anditis…asight.Asweat-drenchedAidenReid.Onallthedayshe’scomebackfromthegym,I’vehadtoavertmyeyes,tomakesurethatIdidn’tstarefortoolong.Which,nowthatI’mabletolookmyfill,I’mrealizingwasanactualtragedy.
Hecrosseshisarms,hisbicepspressingagainsthisT-shirtsleeves.“Aretheystillgone?”
“Yeah,Iimaginetheywillbeforalittlewhile.Theyweregoingtogetbreakfast,Ithink.”Icheckthetimeonmyphone.“Themoviedidn’tstarttilleleven,so…Idoubtwe’llseethemuntilatleastone.”
“Itwasniceofyoutooffer,”Aidensays.
Ishrug.“I’mdeterminedtobethefirstnannywhoIrisdoesn’thate.”Iholdupmyphoneandshakeitbackandforth.“Ievengothernumber.Betnoneoftheothernanniescansaythat.”
Aidengrins.“No,theycan’t.”
“Itlookslikeyouatleastgotagoodworkoutwhileyouwerehidingatthegym,”Itease,eyeingthedarkerpatchofcottonathischestwherethesweatisstilldrying.
“Iwasn’thiding,”hehuffs.
Irollmyeyes.“Sureyouweren’t.Ithinksomeonemightbealittleafraidofbig,scaryIris.”
“AmI,”hemurmurs,eyeingme.
Ifeelaflickerofdesirelicklowinmybellywiththewayhiseyesmoveovermybody,watchingthemtravelupmylegging-cladthighsandacrossmychest.AgirlcouldgetallsortsofideaswithamanlikeAidenlookingatherlikeheis
“Yousaiditwillbeafewmorehours,”herepeats,stilleyeingme,“untiltheygetback.”
Inodslowly.“Idid.”
“Ineedashower,”hesaysdeliberately.“Wouldyoubeinterestedinjoiningme?”
Mymouthiscurlingjustasallthereasonswhythat’sabadideahitsme—realizingthatashowermeansbeingcompletelyexposedandoutofcontrol.ThusfarI’vebeenabletohidethescaronmybackthatwillsurelygiveeverythingaway,butnakedandwetwillonehundredpercentensurethatAidenseesit,subsequentlydiscoveringjusthowwellheknowsme,evenoutsideofournewfoundintimacy.
Itrytomaskthebuildinganxietyinmychest,keepingmyexpressionevenasIpushmylaptoptotheside.“WhatifIlikeyoulikethis?”
“Likethis?”Helooksdownathisdampclothes.“I’masweatymess.”
“Icanthinkofalotbetterreasonsforyoutobeasweatymess,”Itellhimcoyly.
Hisexpressionchanges.“Canyou.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Ipatthebedbesideme,andheimmediatelypushesawayfromthedoorframetopressakneetotheedgeofbedbeforecrawlinguptowardme.Hishandsbraceoneithersideofmyhipstocagemein,andIhavetoadmitthatthesmellofhissweatmixedwithhisdeodorantandsomethingthatisjustinherentlyAidenisn’tatallunpleasant.
“Andhowdoyouproposewefillthetime,Cassie?”
Ireachtoletmyfingertipstuckunderhisshirt,grazinghisabdomenandfeelingittenseundermytouch.“Icanthinkofafewthings.”
“Hmm.”Heduckshisheadtopresshislipstomythroat,andIclosemyeyes,curvingmyfingersaroundeithersideofhiships.“Areyouaskingmetofuckyou,Cassie?”
Mystomachclenches.It’sstillalittledifficulttoreconciletheshy-smilingAidenwiththedirty-mouthedAthatInowknowareoneandthesame,andIcan’thelpbutwonderjusthowmuchAidenhasbeenholdingbackwithme.
“Imightbe,”Igasp,feelinghiskneewedgebetweenmylegs,applyingpressurebetweenthem.“Ifyou’renottootired.Iknowatyourageallthatactivitymight—”
Iyelpwhenhisteethnipatthebaseofmythroat,hishandcoveringmybreastthroughmyshirttosqueezeashisthumbteasesmynipplethroughmythinsportsbra.Hishandsarealreadytuggingatmyleggings—thecoolairoftheair-conditioninghittingmyskinasherollsthemdown,withmyunderwearfollowingclosebehind.
“You’realreadysoaked,”hemurmurs.“Ithinkyouwantmetofuckyouverybadly.”
Iturnmyfacetokisshisjaw,tuckingmyfingersintothewaistbandofhisathleticshorts.Ittakesonlyonemotiontopullhimfree,andhemakesapainedsoundwhenmyhandwrapsaroundhisalready-hardcocktogivehimateasingstroke.“You’renobetteroff,Mr.Reid.”
“I’mlearningthatIalwayswanttofuckyou,Cassie.It’sbecomingaproblem.”
“I’dhardlycallitaproblem,”Ibreathe,pressingmythumbagainsthisslittosmearthebitofprecomethere.“EspeciallysinceIfeelthesameway.”
He’sstartingtoeasemyT-shirtupmybelly,andthatsamepanicbleedsthroughmyheavyarousalaswarningbellssetoffinmyhead.Ipushathishipstourgehimtoturn,guidinghisbodyuntilhefallstohissideandthenrollsonhisback.Hesituateshimselfsothathe’srestingagainsttheheadboardandmypillows,andIcrawlintohislapimmediately,slidingmywetcenteragainsthishardcockinaslowback-and-forthwhilehishandssettleatmyhipstogripthere.
“Letme,”Isay.“Wouldn’twantyoutotireout.”
Hetriestosmile,butit’sshort-livedwhenIrockagainsthimagain.IbracemyhandonhisshouldersasIreachbetweenustograbhiscock,holdinghimsteadyasIslowlylowerdownontohim.Icanseetheraisedtissueofhisscarnearmyfingerswherethey’veruckeduphisshirt,andthereisaflashofguiltthatsurgesthroughme,butitfadesawayquicklywhenhestartstofillme.
Ilikethewayhismouthpartsandhiseyesgrowheavyashewatcheshimselfdisappearinsideme,histeethsettlingagainsthislowerlipasmyhipsmeethis,completelyfullofhim.“Dowhateverfeelsgood,”hemurmurs,hisvoicelikeathickhoneythatIcanalmostfeeldrippingdownmyskin.“Iwanttowatchyouuseme.”Hishandslidesovermyhipstopalmmyass,lookingatmewitheyesthatseemtobeburning.“Becauseafterthat…I’mgoingtofuckyou,Cassie.”
Icanfeelthewayliquidheatcoursesthroughme,thewayIpracticallydripwithhiswords—clampingdownaroundnothingastheairinmylungsseemstocatchfire.Hiseyesarefixedontheplacewherewe’rejoinednow,waitingformetomoveatmyownpace.Hefeelssomuchlargerlikethis,somuchdeeper—andIwhimperasIinvoluntarilyconstrictaroundhim—afruitlesseffortbecausethereisnoroomleft,nogive.NothingbutAiden.
Itrytoliftupslowly,feelingeveryinchofhimslidingagainstmeinsideasIpulloff.ThesensationofloweringbackdownfeelslikeImightburstwiththethicknessofhim,buttheslightburnisdelicious,thefrictionheavenly.
“Good,”hegrindsout,thesoundharshinmyears.“Goodgirl.”
Ishiver,makingapitifulsoundasmyinsidesgiveanothervainsqueeze.Aidenrubssoothingcirclesatmythigh.
“Youlikethat?”Ifeelhishandslippingbetweenus,histhumbpressingagainstmyclittoteaseme.“Likehearinghowwellyoutakeme?”
IthinkInod;it’sabarelytheremovementthatfeelsliketoomuch—andAidenhumsinapprovalasherollshisthumbagainstthemostsensitivepartofme.
“Fuckingdreaminsideyou,”hemurmurs.“Keepmovinglikethat,Cassie.Iwanttowatchyoufuckyourselfonmycock.”
Itrytoliftmybody,butittakeseffort;I’msofuckingfullthatit’sastretchjusttoliftoffhim.IcanhearthewayhehissesthroughhisteethwhenIliftmyhipstoslideupthelengthofhim,hearhisheavyexhalewhenIslowlysinkbackdown.
“Good,”hegrates.“Doitagain.”
Idoitagain—aslowliftandatightslide,mynailsdiggingintohisshirtasIrollmyhipsattheendofthemovementthistime.Itbringshimdeeper—andIcan’thelpthelong,loudmoanthatslipspastmylipsasmyheadlollstorestagainsthisshoulder.
“Aiden,”IgaspasIpushuponmykneestoliftoffhiscock,droppingbackdownasthegirthofhimnearlystealsmybreath.I’mjustsofull.“Aiden,Ineed—”
“Doyouwantmetofuckyounow,Cassie?”Hishandfindsmycheektourgemyfaceawayfromhisshoulder,cuppingmyjawandpushinghisfingersintomyhairasIlookbackathimthroughhoodedeyes.“Doyouneedalittlemore?”
Ibitemylip,rockingmyhipsforwardasInod.Ifeelhishandsgripmyhipsthen,holdingmesteady.“Holdontome.”
Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisneckashislipsteaseatmyjaw,thesoftnessofhismouthastarkcontrasttothehardnessofhiscock,whichisstilldeepinsideme.
“Cassie.”Ipullbacktofindhimwatchingmewitheyesthatseemdarkerthanusual.Heleansinslowlyuntilhismouthhoversonlyinchesfrommine,curvingitagainstmylipstolingerbrieflybeforehebreathes,“You’rebetterthananythingIeverfuckingthoughtabout.”
There’sarushofsensationinmychestthatfluttersdownintomystomach,thesoftnessofhisvoicefillingmewithsomethingthatbordersgiddiness—butIhardlyhaveanytimetodwellonit.Notwiththewayhebeginstomove.
“Oh.”
Heliftsmelikeit’snothing,hishandstightatmyhipsashepullsmeupoffhiscockonlytoslammebackdownagain,thrustinguptomeetmewithagrunt.Ifeelhimdeeperlikethis,deepenoughsothatit’salmostuncomfortable—butthere’sthatslideofhimagainstmyinnerwalls,thatwetfrictionaseveryridgerubsmeinjusttherightway.Iholdontighttosteadymyselfashethrustsintomewithwhatfeelsalmostlikedesperation,likeheneedseachonejustalittlemorethanthelast.
“Youfeel”—eachwordsoundslikeaninhale,andthenanexhale—“sogoddamnedgood.”
HepullsmyhipsbackandforthjusttoaccentuatehowfullIam,tofeelme.There’sabrokenstreamofmutteringwhereIpickupthingslikecan’tbelieveandsofuckingtightandsuchaperfectlittlepussy—eachonemakingmyheartbeatalittlefaster,makingmesqueezearoundhimagainandagain.
Hefindsarhythm,aheavyliftandasharpdropthathasmebouncingonhiscock.Hisheadfallsbackagainsttheheadboardashismouthpartsinathroatymoan—alternatingbetweeneyesrollingbackandhominginonwherehedisappearsinsidemeagainandagain.
“Gonnacome,”hewarnsthroughgrittedteeth.“Butnotwithoutyou.”Hetakestorockingmyhipsbackandforthagain—notactuallythrustingbutgivingmeminuteamountsoffrictionanyway,justenoughtokeepmeontheprecipice.“Canyoutouchyourself?Wantyoutocomeonmycock.”
HeleansintokissmyneckwhileIfindmyclitwithshakingfingers—swipingattheswollenlittlebudthatisalreadysosensitive,soclose.ItiltmyheadbacktogivehismouthbetteraccesswhileIworkmyselfquickly,hissuddenstillnessmakingthethrobbingofhiscockinsideobvious,makingthefullness—theheat—thatmuchmoreheady.
He’sliftingmeagain,bouncingmeonhiscockatthatsamerhythmthatmakesithardtobreathe,butitfeelssogoodthatIcan’tevenbebothered.MywhimpersturnstomoansthatIcanhardlycontain—andhisbreathhissesbetweenhisteethashekeepstryingtofuckmeevenashisthrustsgrowerratic,resultinginamessypacethatstillfeelsfantastic.
MyfingersslipagainstmyclitwithhowwetIam,butIjustkeepgoing,movingasfastasheis,chasingaftertheendwithabitofthatsamedesperation.
“Aiden.Fuck,Aiden.”
“Come,”hebitesout.“Fuckingcome,Cassie.”
I’mnotevensurewhereitcomesfromnow—beitmyfingersonmyclitorhiscockthathitsdeep,touchingmeinalltherightways—butitdoesn’tmatter.It’saslow,tumultuouspressurethatswellsandswellsuntilitbursts—likefireworksexplodinginmybloodandmyvisionanddeep,deepinsidewherehiscockstillmoves—thesparksofitfloatingdowntotingleatmyskinasIshudderthroughit.
Therearemorefilthymutteringsandheavybreathsthatarehardlyaudiblewiththewaymybloodpoundsinmyears,butIfeelit—whenhefallsovertheedge.Hishipsgettighttoholdagainstmine,hiscockpulsingagainstmywallslikeasteadythrob.Hepullsmeclosewiththickarmswrappedaroundme,lipsmovinghungrilyovermythroatandmyjawandeventuallymymouthasheemptiesdeepinside.
“Sogood,”hebreathes.“Fuckingperfect.”
Ishiverfromboththepraiseandthesparksofmyorgasmthatarestillzinginginside,fallingagainsthiminabonelessheapashishandsmoveacrossmybackinheavypresses,likehecan’thelpbutkeeptouchingme.Evenafter,hekeepskissingmelazily,hislipsapleasantpressureagainstmyskin.
“Ican’tseemtotouchyouwithoutlosingcontrol,”hemurmurseventually.
“Mm.”Isnugglecloser.“Idon’tmind.”
“It’sbecomingaproblem,”hesayswithasnort.“I’mfindingthatIalwayswanttotouchyou.”
Ipullbacktogivehimalazygrin,shrugging.“Idon’tmindthateither.”
“Howareyouso…”Hiswordstrailoffasheshakeshishead,decidingagainstwhateverthoughthehadandpullingmeintocrushhismouthagainstmineinstead.
Imeltintohiskiss,lettingtheweightandheatofhisbodyseepintomymuscleslikearelaxingbalm,hardlyevennoticingthatheisstillrooteddeepinsideme.
“Nowyou’reasweatymess,”IteaseasIbreakaway.
Ifeelhislipscurlagainstmine.“Itfeelsalotmoreworthitnow.”
“I’mglad,”Ianswer,kissinghimagain.
“Although,Istillneedthatshower.”
Thatfamiliarflashofguilt,andIhastilyshoveitbackdownasIremaincalm.
“Astemptingasthatis…youdidinterruptmyhomework.”
Hechuffsoutalaugh.“Oh,didI?”
“Alsoworthit.”
“IguessIwouldn’twanttogetinthewayofyoureducation.”
“Anymorethanyoualreadyhave,youmean,”Itease.
Hesmilesashegivesmeanotherquickkiss,wincingashepullsoutofmeandrollingmetomybacktoloomovermeagain.“IguessI’lljusthavetofindyoulaterthen.”
“Twiceinoneday?Scandalous.”
Hissmileisslow,inchingacrosshisfaceashelowerstolethismouthhoveragainstmine.“Itstillwouldn’tbeenough.”
Mypulsequickensashekissesmeagain,andIclosemyeyesandenjoytheplushnessofhismouthasIwillthetraitorousmuscletocalmdown.It’salmostdisappointingwhenhefinallypullsaway,tuckinghimselfbackintohisshorts,andpartofmeistemptedtosaytohellwithitandfollowhimrightintothatshower.
ButthenIrememberallthereasonswhyIcan’t,andagainIfeelthatheavyweightofguiltsettleatstillnottellinghimofourpast.Stilltooafraidtorisklosingthistobringitup.Iwanttobelievethatitwouldn’tmatter,thatAidenlikesmeenoughtolookpastit—buttheuncertaintymakesmekeepquiet,feelinglikeshitfordoingso.
“Well,ifyouchangeyourmind,”Aidensaysasheslidesoffmybed.“Youknowwheretofindme.”
Hewinksatmefromthedoorbeforehedisappearsthroughit,andIfallbackagainstthecoversinahuff,closingmyeyesasmyboneless,spentbodysettlesintothemattress.InasecondIwillgetdressedagainandgobacktowhatIwasdoing;Iwon’tfollowAiden,astemptingasitmightbetodoso,becauseIknowdeepdownthatI’mnotreadyyet.I’mnotreadytofacethetruthandalltherisksthatcomewithit.
Evenif,deepdown…IknowI’mjustmakingitharderbywaiting.Chatwith@alacarte
Iamgoingtobehonestwithyou.
?
Iwatchedthatatwork.
Omgyoudidn’t.
Iamcurrentlyhardasfuckinthebathroom.
Poorbaby.I’dhelpyouifIwasthere.
Iwishyouwere.
CHAPTER14Cassie
IneverdidcavetotheurgeofjumpingintheshowerwithAiden,butthatdoesn’tmeanIwasn’tincrediblytempted.IspenttherestofmyFridaymorningbeingagoodgirlandfinishingupmyhomework,knowingthatSaturday’sCassiewouldbeallthemoregratefulforitwhenshewasn’thavingtorushthroughslidesbeforeheadingtolabs.Thatprovedtobetrue,sinceAidenletmesleepinabitthismorningwhileheandSophiesnuckofftotheNewChildren’sMuseumatSophie’sbehest.Ihavetosaythisforthekid,sheisallaboutmilkingherbirthdayweek.ItmakesmelaughjustthinkingofAiden’shugeformtryingtocrawlaroundonsomeofthemoreinteractiveexhibitswithher.ItalsomakesmealittlewistfulthatIcouldn’tgowiththem.
Currently,I’msippingmymorningcoffeeatthekitchencounter,livinginadazedsortofstateasthoughtsfullofvibrantflashesfromthedaybefore,hell,thelastseveraldays(andnights,forthatmatter)flitthroughmyhead.Mybrainissaturatedwiththoughtsofadeepvoiceandahardbodythatcan’tseemtogetenoughofme,ofallpeople.IfIclosemyeyes,IcanstillfeeltheheatofAiden’spalmsatmythighs,hearhislowmurmurofdirtywordsthatmightbebecomingmyownpersonaladdiction.Andsure,theguiltisstillthere,andIknowwithoutadoubtthatIshouldbemakingplanstofindawaytotellAidenthetruth—butit’shardtofocusonanyofthosethingswhenI’mgettingdickeddownwithinaninchofmylifeeverynight.
IshouldreallygetfinisheduphereandstartgettingreadytoleaveforSt.Augustine’s.Ineedtoleavewithinthehour,andIstillhaven’tdriedmyhairfrommyshower,andIhaveeveryintentionofdoingthat,really.
IfIcanmanagetostopbeingdistractedbyAiden’stexts.
Myphonebuzzesatthecounterasifsummoned,andI’mbitingbackagrinasIswipeitovertoreadwhathe’ssent.
There’sapictureattachedofAidenlookingdisgruntledasheattemptstostepoutofagiantinflatablerainbowtube—hisbigbodyobviouslytoomuchforthechildren’sattraction.Ican’thelpbutwonderhowhemanagestostilllooksogoodwhenhe’sfrowning.
CASSIE
I’massumingSophietookthis?Youlooklikeyou’rereallystruggling.
AIDEN
ItoldherIwastoobigforit.
CASSIE
Wewouldn’twanttostifleherinquisitivemindthough.
AIDEN
Hilarious.Haveyouleftforschool?You’renottextinganddrivingareyou?
Ican’thelpbutrollmyeyesatthis.It’ssuchadadthingtoask.Still,Iwon’tpretendthereisn’talittleflutterinmystomachthathe’sconcernedaboutme.
CASSIE
No,Dad.I’mstillathome.I’mleavingsoonthough.
AIDEN
Idon’tknowhowIfeelaboutyoucallingmedad.
CASSIE
WouldyoupreferDaddy?
AIDEN
YourealizetheywilltakemetoprisonifIgethardinamuseumfullofchildrenright?
CASSIE
LolgoodthingforyouIdon’thaveadaddykink,orIwouldtotallyhavesomefunwiththis.
AIDEN
You’reevil.
CASSIE
You’lljusthavetopaymebacklater.??
AIDEN
Completelyevil.
CASSIE
IsSophiehavingfun?
AIDEN
Ablast.She’skindofshythough.Icantellshe’dliketojoininwithsomeoftheotherkids,butIcan’tgethertotakethefirststep.
CASSIE
She’sataweirdage.Itcanbehardmakingfriends.
AIDEN
Iknow.Ijusthateseeingherstrugglewithit.
CASSIE
Youcan’tforceit.Itwillhappen.She’stooamazingforitnotto.
AIDEN
You’reright.
Nowhurryandgetgoingsoyoudon’thavetospeed.
CASSIE
Okay,okay.Willdo,Daddio.
AIDEN
Evil.
IlaughasIstowmyphoneinthepocketofmypajamapants,finishingtherestofmycoffeeandrinsingthemugbeforeputtingitinthedishwasher.
It’sfunny,really.Schoolusedtobeagreatersourceofanxiety;howIwouldpayforthenextsemester,ifmyloanswouldprocess,ifI’dhavetodeferforanotheryear—butwiththesalaryI’vebeengettinghere,I’vehardlyneededtothinkaboutitatall,thislastmonth.Ifitcontinues,thiswillbethefirstyearofschoolIcanpayforoutofpocketwithouteventhinkingaboutstudentloans.
Idon’tthinkIwilleverfullygetoverwhatthisjobpays.
Andthat’sanotherpartofthiswholethingthatmakesmefeelguilty;that’sontopoftheknowledgethatIstillhaven’tfiguredouthowtotellhimthatthisisn’tthefirsttimewe’vebeenintimate,evenifit’sthefirsttimehe’stouchedme.TherehavebeenmomentsthisweekwhereI’vewonderedifitshouldbotherme,thefactthatI’mreceivingwagesfromthemanI’msleepingwith—butItellmyselfthatthetwothingsarewhollyseparate.Thefactthatwe’remakingsuretokeepour…anticsawayfromSophie’seyesmeansit’snotcompletelysordid.It’sonlyaslightdifferentiation,onethatprobablydoesn’toffernearlyasmuchjustificationasIwouldleadmyselftobelieve—butit’ssomething,atleast.
Still,it’salittlewildtothinkaboutonlyhavingonemoreyearleftofschool—whatshouldhavebeentwoyearsofgradschoolturningintofourthankstothewonderfulexperienceofhavingtoworkmywaythroughit.It’sacompleterelieftoseeitcomingtoanend,tofinallybeclosetotheopportunitytogetoutthereanddosomerealgood,butIwon’tpretendthatit’snotalittleunnerving,thinkingofwhatI’lldowithmylifeafterthis.There’sacertainpressurethatcomeswithgraduation,withgettingoutintotheworldanddoingsomethingthathasmereflectingonalltheotheraspectsofmylife,wonderingwhereImightbeinfiveyears.
Thoughtsthatareonlymademoreconfusingbythedistractingmanwithadizzyingsmilethrownintothemix.Iknowthatit’sentirelytooearlytoevenbedaydreamingaboutanythingwithAidenReid,butcanIreallyhelpitifsomepartofmeisconstantlythinkingaboutthepossibilityoflosingallofthis?AndnotjustAidenbutSophietoo.Andthat’sthedrivingfactorthatkeepsmefromtellinghimeverything.Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,IfeelalmostlikeIbelonghere,thatI’mdoinggoodhere,andgiventhatit’sthefirstrealfamilytowelcomeme…isitmyfaultthatIwouldwanttodoanythingIcouldtoholdontoitalittlelonger?
Thisentirelineofthoughtleavesmyheadacompletemess.
IamnotnaivetothefactIdon’thavealottoofferAidenandSophieoutsideofmyself,thatthereareyearsandvastdifferencesbetweenusthatIcan’tchange—butIcan’thelpbutthinkabouthisquiet“Ishouldn’tbethinkingaboutyouasmuchasIdo”anditssequel,“IfeellikeI’mgoingcrazy,”andthatmeanssomething,right?
It’ssillyofmetopinsuchnotionstosomethingsonew,somethingthatneitherofusreallyknowswhatitevenis—butIcan’thelpit,really.It’sjustthatAidenReidmakesmefeelalittlecrazytoo.It’senoughtomakeanyonewonder.
It’senoughtomakeanyoneworryaboutwhatwaitsforusattheendofthis.
—
Ourlabsthistimefocusonassistive-pediatric-seatingequipment,andfocusingonthefunctionsandpartsofthedifferenttypesofchairsthey’vebroughtinforustostudyisagreatdistraction.I’vebeentestingoutthedifferenttiltingfunctionsoftheRiftonI’vebeenassignedforthelasttwentyminutesorso,andIthinkI’mnearlyreadytomoveontothenextmodel.
“Helpmeinstallthisharness,wouldyou?”Camilaholdsuptheoptionalbutterflyharnessthatcanbeaddedtothismodel.“Ican’tfigureoutwhereitclipsin.”
“Here,”Isay,holdingoutmyhand.“Ithinkitclipsinhere.”
CamilawatchesasIfindtheattachmentpointsfortheharness,clippingallfourintopositionuntilit’sproperlyinstalled.
“Itotallymissedthat,”Camilahuffs.“Someofthesechairsareadoozy.”
“They’reamazingthough,”Isay.“There’ssomuchtheycandonow.”
“Forreal.”Camilaexaminesthebackofthechair,findingthetiltfunctionandbringingthechairbackintoitsfirstposition.“Ithinkwe’vegotitnow,don’tyouthink?ShouldwemoveontotheLeckey?”
“Notiltfunctionwiththatone,atleast,”Inote.
“Right.Lookslikethatgroupisalmostdonewithit.Wecangograbitnext.”
WetakeaseatneartheothergroupwhoisstillstudyingthedifferentfunctionsoftheLeckey,Camilasprawlingoutnexttomeintheplasticchairandblowingoutabreath.“Justthislastyear,andwe’redone.”
“It’scrazy.”
“Doyouthinktheboardsaregoingtobebrutal?”
“Probably,”Ilaugh.“Butwe’llbefine.”
“Saysyou,”shesnorts.“You’retopoftheclass.”
“You’redoingjustfine.”
“How’sthenannygiggoing?YouwereactingsoweirdlasttimeIsawyou.”
“Oh…”Iblush,hopingshedoesn’tcatchit.Ican’texactlytellherthatI’vecomplicatedmattersfurtherbysleepingwiththepersonfrommypastwhostilldoesn’trememberme.“Thingsaregreat.IreallyloveSophie,thelittlegirlInanny.She’s…acharacter.”
“Itoldyou,”Camilalaughs.“Theycanbesomethingatthatage.”
“Yousaidyouhadaniecethatage,right?”
“Lucia,”Camilatellsme.“She’sagremlin.Cutelittlethingthough.”
Inodabsently,watchingtheothergrouptestthedifferentmodesofthechairasmythoughtswander.Ican’tsaywhytheideapopsintomyhead;maybeit’sjustbecauseI’mrememberingAiden’stextsearlierabouthowhewishedSophiehadaneasiertimeputtingherselfoutthere—butanideasparksnonetheless.
“Hey,Camila…”
Sheturnstoregardme.“Yeah?”
“Doyouthinkyourniecewouldenjoyatriptothezoo?”
“IsenseI’mwalkingintoatrap.”
“It’sjust…Sophie,she—she’snewatherschoolthisyear,andshe’shadahardtimemakingfriends.Ijustthought…ifshecouldplaywithsomeoneherownagewithoutallthepressureofbeinginaswarmofkidsatschool…Isthisaterribleidea?”
“Formemaybe,”Camilasnorts.“Didn’tItellyouLuciawasagremlin?”
“Oh,comeon.She’syourniece.She’sgottobealittlecool.”
Camilanarrowshereyes.“Areyoutryingtobuttermeup?”
“Isitworking?”
Sherollshereyes.“Unfortunately.Fine.You’rebuyinglunchthatday,bytheway.”
“Ofcourse.Anything.Thisisgoingtobesogreat.”
CamilaisstillgrumblingevenasI’mquietlycelebratingmyowngenius.
—
Thezoo?”
IrefusetobedistractedbyAideninhiselement,hisarmscrossedoverhischefcoatandhisapronstainedwithbitsofsomethingoranotherastherestofhisstaffworksdiligentlybehindhim.
“She’llloveit,”Iurge.“Andmylabpartnerisgoingtobringherniece,soitwillbeagreatchanceforSophietogettoknowsomeoneherownage.”
“Don’tletherhearyouscheminglikethat,”hewarns,leaningtopeekintohisoffice,whereSophieisstillplayingonherSwitchathisdesk.“Imean,I’mfinewithit,butareyousureyouwantto?That’sgoingtomakeforalongday.”
“Ofcourse!It’sgoingtobesofun.EspeciallyforSophie.Hassheeverbeen?”
“Maybeoncewhenshewassmaller…”Herubsthebackofhisneck.“Wehaven’tgottenachancesince…well.”
“Igetit.”Ireachunconsciouslyforhim,myfingerstrippingovertheedgeofhisapronathiswaistbeforeIrememberwhereweare.Idrawmyhandback,clearingmythroat.“Youcouldalwayscomewithus.Playhooky?”
Aidenlaughs,lookingbackattheflurryofactivitybehindhim.“IthinktheymightstickmeintheovenifItriedit.”
“Justathought.”
There’sahintofasmileathismouthwhenheturnsbacktome,andhiseyesarewarmer,makingmystomachflutter.“Trustme,that’swhereI’dratherbe.”
“Well,I’llsendlotsofpictures,atleast.”
“Perfect.Textmeareminderinabit,andwhenIhaveabreak,I’llorderthetickets.”
“Oh,no,Ican—”
“I’mgettingthem,”hesaysbluntly,leavingnoroomforargument.
Mylipstwitch.“Well,yes,sir.”
“Weshouldprobablyaddthattothelistofphrasesyoucan’tsaytomeinpublic.”
Iraiseaneyebrow,loweringmyvoice.“You’rebecomingaregularpervert,aren’tyou?”
“Ithinkyoujustbringitoutofme,”hechuckles.
Theflutteringinmystomachisworsenow,becauseI’mnotjustthinkingofthislastweektogether—I’mthinkingofallthetimeshe’sbeenevenfilthierthanthisinthedarkofmyroom,whereIcouldn’tseehisface.Ihavetosuppressashiver,tryingtostowthosethoughtsawayandfocusingonSophieinstead.
“I’llgotellherthenews,”Isay.
Aidenlaughsagain.“Justmakesureyoudon’tletherknowthatit’saplaydate.She’sliabletokickyouintheshins.”
“Shewouldnever,”Iprotest.“Shelovesme.”
“Don’tsayIdidn’twarnyou.”
IrollmyeyesasIstridepastthekitchentowardtheofficeontheotherside,givingthedoorframeaknockasIpeekmyheadaroundit.“Hey,Soph.Gotanyplanstomorrow?”
“It’sSunday,”shesayswithafrown.“AndI’mten.”
“Whatdoyousaytoushavingalittleadventure?”
Shetriesherbestnottolooktooexcited,herSwitchloweringtoherlapasshegivesherbestimpressionofnonchalant.
“Whatkindofadventure?”“Istillcan’tbelieveyouwatchedthatlastvideoatwork,”Ilaugh.
It’sbecomingaweirdhabitofours—talkingforawhileafterweSkype.Hestillwatchesmecome,andhonestly,Ienjoyitjustalittlemorewhenit’shim,andisn’tthatsilly?
“Itwasworthit,”hemurmurs.“Although,mycoworkersmightdisagree.TheyprobablythinkIhavestomachissuesnow.”
Ican’thelpbutlaughagain.Iadjustthemaskonmyface,myfingerslingeringthereasmyteethworryatmylowerlip.
“I’mtryingtoimagineit,”Ianswerquietly.“It’ssoweirdthatIdon’tknowwhatyoulooklike.”
“Itis.”Ihearhimclearhisthroat.“Butthenagain,Idon’tknowexactlywhatyoulooklikeeither.”
“Kindofweird,”Ichucklenervously,myheartratequickening.
“Yeah,”hechucklessoftly.“Weird.”
Hedoesn’taskmetotakeoffthemask,whichisagoodthing.
BecauserightnowIcan’tsaythatIwouldn’tdoitforhim.
CHAPTER15Cassie
Thisisareallylameadventure,”Sophiecommentsfromthepassengerseatofmycar.
Ihuffoutasigh.“Justgivemeaminute.”
Itrytocranktheignitionagain,hearingthatfatalrumblingwhineastheengineofmyoldcartriesitsbesttoturnoverforafewsecondsbeforeitsputtersandgivesoutagain.
“Comeon,”Igroan.“Don’tdothistome.”
“Doesitneedgas?”
“Ithasplentyofgas.”
“Whataboutoil?”
“Whatareyou,amechanic?”
Sophieshrugs.“Justtryingtohelp.”
“Iknow,Iknow.Idon’tknowwhat’swrongwithit.Itprobablyjusthatesme.”
“Howarewegoingtogettothezoo?”
Idropmyheadonthesteeringwheel,sighingasIthink.“WecouldcallanUber.”
“It’sapeaktime,”shesayscasually.“They’lltakeforever.”
IcockaneyebrowinherdirectionasIliftmyhead.“Howdoyouknowaboutpeaktimes?”
“Momdidn’thaveacar,”shesays.“WealwaysUberedifitwasfar.”
“Okay.Whataboutthebus?”
Sophiemakesaface.“Thebus?”
“You’venevertakenthebus?”
“It’shot.”
“Well,I’mnotseeingmanyotheroptions.MyfriendCamilalivesontheothersideofthezoo.Bythetimeshecouldgetouthere,we’dwastehalfourzootime.”
“WecouldcallDad.”
AndletAidenhearabouthowshittymycaris?No,thankyou.Knowinghim,he’dprobablytrytoleavehiscarherefromnowonandtakethebushimself.Itwouldbejustlikehimtodosomethinglikethat.
“Wedon’twanttobotherhim.”
“ButIwanttogo,”Sophiewhines.
“Iknowthat,butifwecan’tUber,andyouwon’ttakethebus,Idon’tseehowwe’llbeableto—”
Ipause,anideastrikingme.Itmightbeabadone,sinceI’veonlyjustbeguntowinbrowniepointswiththepersonIhaveinmind,butIthinktomyselfthatthiscouldbeachancetoearnmore,ifIplaymycardsright.
“Hey,Soph,”Isay,turningtoflashheragrin.“Whattimedoesyouraunt’sshopopen?”
—
Thanksforcomingtogetus,”IsayagainasweclimbintoIris’scar.“You’rereallysavingushere.”
“It’sfine,”Irissays.“Idon’twantSophieonthebus.”
Whatdothesepeoplehaveagainstthebus?
Idecideit’snotthetimetotrytogaintheanswertothatquestion.
“Andyou’resureyouwon’tcomewithus?”
“Iwould,”Irissays,andIthinksheactuallymeansit,basedonhertone.“ButIdon’thaveanyonetocoverformeuntilthisafternoon.Ionlyhavetwootheremployeesrightnow.”
“Wow,thatsoundstough.Isitcrazybusy?”
Irisnods.“We’regettingintothefallweddingseason,sowe’vehadalotoforders.I’mdoingmybesttokeepupwiththestaffIhave.Ican’treallyaffordtohireanyoneelseatthemoment.”
“I’msorry,”Isaylamely,notknowingwhatelsetosay.
“It’sfine.”Irisshrugs.“Justpartofit.”Sheeyesmefromthesideasshepullsoutontothemainhighway.“Wasthisyouridea?”
“Oh…yeah.IhaveafriendfromschoolwhohasanieceSophie’sage.Ithought…”Istopmyself,glancingbackatSophie,whoislisteningcuriously.“Imean,myfriendaskedmeifIknewanyonearoundthesameageasherniecethatmightwanttohaveazoodaywiththem.”
Irisgivesmeaknowinglook,andthensurprisesmebyactuallysmiling,likesheknowsexactlywhatI’mnotsaying.“Thatsoundsfun.”
“Haveyoueverbeen?”
“Oh,yeah,”Irissays.“RebeccaandItookSophiewhenshewas,what…six?”
Sophieshrugs.“Maybe.Iwaslittle.Irememberpettingagiraffe!”
“Wedidthewildlifesafari,”Irisclarifies.“Rebeccawasobsessedwiththegiraffes.”
There’sawistfulnesstohertone,herexpressionfaraway,andIseetheminuteshecatchesit,quicklymaskingherfeaturestothatofherusualindifferentlook.
“Thatsoundslikeagreattime,”Inote.
Irisnods.“Itwas.IthinkIhaveapictureofthethreeofussomewherewithagiraffe.”
“I’dlovetoseeitsometime.”
Iriseyesmeagain.“I’lltrytofinditnexttime.”
Nexttime.
IrisandSophiestartchattingaboutsomebookIrisleft,andIturnmyfacetowardthewindowtohidemysmile.Ihadn’tplannedtoseeIristoday;Ihadn’teventhoughttoinvitehertothezoo,whichI’mfeelingbadaboutnow,butI’msortofgladthatmycarwasdeadthismorning.ItfeelslikeeverytimeIseeIris,Iunderstandherjustalittlebetter.Littlebylittle,IknowI’mslowlychippingawayatherarmor.
It’sbecomemyownpersonalmissionatthispoint.
—
Therestofthedrivegoessmoothly,andIrisevenpromisestotextmethatphotowhenshefindsitbeforeshedropsusoff.Itakeitasanothervictory.TheentrancetothezooisbustlingevenonaSunday,andittakesusagoodtenminutestotrackdownCamilaandLuciaoutsideofitevenwhiletextingeachotherconstantly.
“Finally,”Camilasayswhenshefindsus.“Thoughtwe’dlostyou.”
Iglancearound.“It’sbusytoday.”
“Yeah,Luciawasactinglikeshewasgoingtodieifwehadtowaitanymore.”
ThelittlegirlwhohasthesamemidnighthairanddarkbrowneyesasherauntmakesafaceatCamila.“Ididn’tsaythat.”
“Uh-huh,”Camilascoffs.“Oh.Yeah.You’reSophie,right?”CamilabendstoofferherhandtoSophie,whotakesittoshakegently.“Thisismyniece,Lucia.Ipromisesheisn’tasmeanasshelooks.”
Luciarollshereyes.“I’mnotmean.”
“Hi,”Sophiesays,lookingshy.
Thankfully,Luciadoesn’tseemtohaveashyboneinherbody,pointingtothedrawstringbagSophiehasslungonherback.“IsthatanEncantobackpack?”
“Yeah.”Sophienods.“IgotitatDisneyland.”
“Lucky!Meandmymomaregonnagonextyear.DidyouseeMirabel?”
Sophie’seyeslightup.“Uh-huh!AndBruno!”
“OhmyGod.Didthey—”
Thepairofthemhuddlecloserastheycontinuetogush,andwefollowthemtowardtheticketboothasCamilaflashesmeawrysmile.“Idon’tthinkwe’regoingtohavetoworryaboutthosetwo.”
“PraisetothefamilyMadrigal,”Ilaugh.
“Hardly.IfIhavetohearthatdamnedsongonemoretime,I’ll—”
“So,youdon’ttalkaboutBruno?”
Camilanarrowshereyesaswegetinlinetoshowourtickets,shakingherhead.“Nowit’slunchandasnowcone.”
—
LuciaandSophiearepracticallybestfriendsbythetimewemakeittotheLostForest,ourplanofattackbeingtotrytomakeonebigcirclesothatwecancatcheverythingbeforewegetbacktotheexit.
Sophiepresseshernosetotheglasstogetabetterlookatthehippos,oohingappreciatively.Luciaisbusyreadingtheinformationpanel.
“Itsaysthathipposkilluptofivehundredpeopleayear,”Luciareads,notlikeshe’sshocked,butlikeshefindsthisfascinating.
Sophielooksbackatherwithdisbelief.“Hippos?”
“What,”Luciasnorts.“Dotheysitonthem?”
“No,”Camilasighs.“Lookatthosetusks!They’dmakeashishkebaboutofyou.”
“Yuck,”Sophiesays.Shelooksdowntheway.“Areweclosetothekangaroos?Iwanttoseethekangaroos.”
Camilachecksthemap.“They’reonthewaybackintheOutback.Wehavealittlewaystogobeforewegetthere.”
“Didyouguysknow,”Icutin,“thatmalekangaroosarecalledboomers?”
“What?”Sophie’snosewrinkles.“Noway.”
“No,no,”Camilasighs,shakingherhead.“I’msureit’strue.Sheprobablyreaditoffapeachtealid.”
“Oh,andkoalas.”Isnapmyfingers.“Theysleepliketwenty-twohoursaday.”
Camilarollshereyes.“CanyoupleasestartdrinkingDasanilikeanormalperson?”
“Nope,”Ilaugh.“I’maddicted.”InoticeLuciaandSophiearebothhuddledneartheglassnow,andIpulloutmyphone.“Hey,kids.Turnthisway.Letmegetapicture.”
LuciathrowsherarmaroundSophie,wholooksmildlysurprisedforamomentbeforereturningthegestureandsmilingbig,andmychestsqueezeswithahappysensationasIsnapafewphotos.IimmediatelybusymyselfwithsendingonetoAiden,knowinghe’llgetakickoutofSophieandLuciahittingitoffsowell.
WiththepictureIadd:
CASSIE
They’repracticallybestiesandwearen’tevenhalfwaythroughthezoo.
“AreyousendingthattoDad?”
InoticeSophieeyeingme,andInod.“Hewantedlotsofpictures.”
“Tellhimhehastocomenexttime,”Sophiesays.“Iwanttotellhimabouthowthehipposmurderpeople.”
Igrimace.“Maybeweleavethatpartofthetripout.”
Ifeelmyphonebuzz,lookingdowntoseewhatAiden’sresponseis.
AIDEN
That’samazing.Itlookslikeeveryone’shavingagreattime.
Andthenonlyasecondlater:
AIDEN
IreallywishIcouldbetherewithyouguys.
Mystomachclenchesasmyfacesplitsintoagrininvoluntarily.Ihavenoideahowonetextcanmakemesohappy.ThenIrememberwhoit’sfrom.Itapoutareplywithoutthinking.
CASSIE
Itwasabitchgettinghere,butit’sworthit.Sophieishavingablast.
Hisreplyisinstant.
AIDEN
Whatdoyoumean?Didsomethinghappen?
Oh.Shit.Istillhaven’ttoldAidenaboutmycar.
CASSIE
Oh.Well…mycarwasactingupthismorning.
IdecidetellinghimIrisbroughtushereisprobablyaconversationbetterhadinperson.
CASSIE
WecanjustUberback…ortakethebus.
AIDEN
No.I’llcomegetyou.Justtellmewhattime.
CASSIE
Youdon’thaveto.Iknowhowbusyyouguysare.
AIDEN
IsaidI’mcoming.Justtellmewhattime.
CASSIE
Okay,okay.Bossy.
AIDEN
Seeyouthen.
It’ssillytostillbegrinningoverthis,butIcan’thelpit.IwonderifIshouldtellhimthatIkindoflikehimbossy.
CamilaislookingatmestrangelywhenIlookup,andIquicklymaskmysmileintoamorecasualexpression.“Youguysreadytomoveon?Ithinkwe’reclosetoafewcafés.Wecangrabsomefood.”
“I’mstarving,”Luciawhines.
“Yeah,yeah,”Ichuckle.“Let’sgetyougremlinsfed.”
IpointedlyignorethewayCamilaisstilleyeingme.
—
Camilablessedlywaitsuntilafterlunchtocomment,whenthekidsarebothdistractedbythepandas.
“So…what’sSophie’sdadlike?”
“Hm?”Itryforablankface.“Oh,Aiden?He’s…great.Reallynice.”
Healsohasafilthymouthandadickthatdefiesscience,butthat’sprobablynotagoodthingtomentionrightnow.
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
“Yousaidhe’ssingle,right?”
Irollmyeyes.“Whatdoesthatmatter?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow…”Hergrinismischievous.“Mostpeopledon’tgiggleattextsfromtheirboss.Mademecurious.”
“Ididnotgiggle,”Iprotest.
“Sureyoudidn’t.”
ShewalksaheadofmetotrailafterthegirlsonthePandaTrek,andIfidgetnervouslyasIfollow.Isitreallythatobvious?Ihavetodoabetterjobofkeepingthingsundercontrol.IsidleupbesideCamila,notlookingather.
“It’snotwhatyouthink,”Isay.
Imean,itis,butIdoubtthat’ssomethingIshouldbeopenlysharingwithpeople.
Camilagivesmeaninnocentlook.“Iwasn’tthinkinganything.”
“Ohyes,youwere,”Ihuff.
“Ishehot?”
“Shh.”IglanceupafewfeettowhereLuciaandSophiearestillchattingexcitedly.“Whatdoesthatmatter?”
“So,heis,”Camilalaughs.“Whew.Andyou’relivingwithhim?Pleasetellmeyou’rehittingthat.”
“OhmyGod,”Ihiss.“Canyoubeanylouder?”
“Ihaven’thadadateinmonths,”shesays.“Youknowwhatourscheduleislike.Honestly,goodonyouforfindingdickwithourworkload.”
“It’snotlikethat,”Isayagain,butitsoundsfeeblerthistime.
“Hey,nojudgmentshere,”Camilaassuresme.“Sophie’sacoolkid.Herdadhastobeprettycooltoo.”
Ichewattheinsideofmylip,turningmyheadtowatchSophie’ssmile,grinningwhenshecatchesmewatchingandgivesmealittlewavethatIreturn.
“Sheisareallycoolkid,”Iagree.
“MuchlessofagremlinthanLucia.”
IelbowCamila.“Luciaisgreat.”
“Yeah,yeah,she’sallright.”
Ihesitateamoment,wrestlingwiththedesiretotellsomeonesomethingandknowingIshouldkeepmymouthshut.Iletseveralmorestepspassinsilenceasitweighsonme,andthenIletoutaslowbreath.
“Herdadisreallygreat,”Isayquietly.
Camila’sgrinisslow,butsheleansintomeconspiratorially,stealingmymoveassheelbowsmeintheside.“Yeah,Ibetheis.”
—
Bytheendoftheday,theentiregroupisexhausted.We’vehadmorethananormalhuman’sfilloflionsandtigersandbears(ohmy),andbyseveno’clock,we’realljustreadytogohome.
“Areyousureyoudon’twantmetotakeyouguyshome?”
IshakemyheadatCamila.“It’ssofaroutofyourway.Aidensaidhe’dcomegetus.”
“He’slate,”Sophiegrumblesbesideme.
“Seriously,”Camilatriesagain.“It’snotabigdeal.Justtexthimandtellhimthat—”
“Oh,thereheis,”Isay,spottinghiscarapproachingthedrop-offpoint.
“Finally,”Sophiehuffs.
Aiden’scarcomestoastopatthecurb,andheputsitinparkbeforesteppingoutofthedriver’ssidetoleanonthehood.“SorryI’mlate,”heoffers.“Traffic.”
He’sstillinhischefcoat,soIknowhecamestraightherefromworkandthathe’llprobablyevenmostlikelyhavetogoback—andwhydoesitmakemewarmalloveragainthathewouldputeverythingonholdforus?
LuciaandSophiearehugginggoodbye,andIcanhearthemtalkingaboutexchangingfriendcodesontheSwitch,butitfallstothewaysidewhenCamilaleansintomurmurinmyear,“JesusChrist,Cassie.Ifyouaren’thittingthat,thenyoushouldbearrested.”
Ibarkoutalaugh.“Thatdoesn’tevenmakesense.”
“It’sacrimeagainsthumanity.Thinkoftherestofus.Swamped.Overworked.Dickless.”
“Okay,weareleavingnow.”
“I’mjustsaying—”
Ithrowmyarmsaroundherneckforahug.“Thanksfortoday.Itwasgreat.”
“Apparentlythekidsarerideordienow,sowe’llhavetodoitagain.”
“Right.”
Camilalowershervoiceagain.“AndIsincerelyhopethatyouhavelockeddownthatdaddi—”
“Okay,girls!”IpullawayfromCamila.“TimeforSophieandmetogo.Butwe’llhangoutagainsoon,okay?”
Theybothnodandhuggoodbyeagain,SophiewavingbackatLuciaasIhelpherinthecar.
“IreallyamsorryIwaslate,”Aidensaysagainasweallbuckleup.“Ishouldhaveleftalittleearlier.”
“It’sfine,”Iassurehim.“Weweren’twaitinglong.”
“I’llhavetoheadbackforawhileafterIdropyouguysoff.”
“Ifigured,”Isay.
Aidenlooksintherearviewmirrorashepullsawayfromthecurb.“Didyouhavefuntoday?”
“Somuchfun,”Sophiegushes.“Didyouknowthathipposmurderpeople?”
Igroan,andAidengivesmeastrangelookfromtheside.
“Don’task,”Isay.“Don’task.”
—
IhelpSophieoutofthecarwhenwepullupoutsideofthehouse,makingsureshehasherbagofsouvenirsbeforeshestartsupthewalkway.Sheturnsbacktolookatmehalfway.“Areyoucoming?”
“Justasec,”Icallafterher.“Ineedtotellyourdadsomething.”
“Okay,butyoupromisedtodothekangaroopuzzlewithme.”
“Yeah,yeah,we’regoingtodothepuzzle.”
IwaituntilshedisappearsthroughthefrontdoorbeforeIcrawlbackintothepassenger’ssideofthefrontseat,pushingoverthemiddleconsoleandcuppingmyhandstoAiden’sfacetopullhiminforakiss.Thereisamomentofsurpriseonhispartthatdissolvesquickly,andthenIfeelhisfingersinmyhairandhistongueatmylowerlipbeforeitdipsinsidetotouchmine.
Ikisshimhard,muchharderthanfeelsappropriatefortheinsideofacarinthemiddleofthestreet—butIdecideIdon’tcare.Ihadaphenomenaldaywithaphenomenalkid,andnowI’mbeingcartedhomebyaphenomenalmanwholetsmeattackhimwithkissesoutofnowhere.
Thingscouldbealotworse.
HelooksalittledazedwhenIbreakaway.“Whatwasthatfor?”
“Becauseyou’regreat.”
Heblinks.“Iam?”
“Very.”
“Areyoutryingtoenticemetobailonwork?Becauseit’sworking.”
Mylipscurveagainsthis,andIpressanothersoftkissthere.“Later,”Ipromise.Icrawlbackwardoutofthecar,andInoticehe’sfrowningwhenmyfeettouchthesidewalk,myhandonthedoor.“What?”
“Youreallymightbeevil,”hegrumbles.
Igivehimaslygrin.“GoodthingyouknowwhereIlive,Mr.Reid.”
IthinkIcanstillhearhimgrumblingevenafterIshutthedoor.Chatwith@lovecici
Yousent@lovecici
a$50tip
Isentyouanewtoy.Iwanttowatchyouuseyourmouthandimagineit’smycock.
CHAPTER16Aiden
ReturningtoworkisalotharderwiththesensationofCassie’slipsstillagainstmine,butImanagesomehow.TherestaurantisstillasbusyasIleftitwhenIslipinthroughtheserviceentrance,andMarcolookslikehe’sattheendofhisrope,runningtomeetmewithafrazzledlook.
“We’reoutofshallots.”
Irearback.“Howthehellareweoutofshallots?”
“Inventoryerror?Idon’tfuckingknow.Butwejustusedthelastoftheminapouletauvinaigre,andIhavetwomoreordersforitwaiting.”
“WhydoesitfeellikeI’mgoingtobeyellingatAlextonight,”Isigh.
“He’soutsick,”Marcosays.“Sounlessyouwanttoyellathimoverthephone…”
Fuck.
MaybeIreallyshouldhaveplayedhookyfortherestofthenight.Icouldbeputtingtogetherapuzzleathomewiththegirlsrightnow.
Thegirls.
Ittakesmebysurprise,thewaymybraininstantlylumpedthemtogetherthatway.Idon’tknowwhenIstartedtothinkofthemasapackagedeal,waitingformeathome,butIdo,Irealize.Andit’sgettingincreasinglymoreaggravatingthatIhavetospendsomuchtimehereawayfromthem.
“Um,hello,”Marcosays,wavinghishandinfrontofmyface.“Whyareyousmilinglikethat?You’recreepingmeout.”
“Nothing,”Isay,collectingmyself.“Dowehaveyellowonions?”
“Probably.”Heturnstoyellatoneofthelinecookstogocheckbeforeturningbacktome.“Thinkwecanusethemasareplacement?”
“It’slikelytheywon’tevenbeabletotell.Justaddalittlebitmoregarlic.That’sthebestwecando.”
“Shit.Ididn’teventhinkofthat,”Marcotuts.“That’sgreat.God.I’mgladyou’reback.Iwasabouttohaveabreakdown.”
Iclaphimontheshoulder,chuckling,“It’sgoingtobefine.”
“Fine,”Marcoechoesdumbfoundedly.“WhoareyouandwhathaveyoudonewithAidenReid?”
There’sstillaghostofasmileatmymouthasIreachtograbforacleanapron,tyingitaroundmywaistasIreadymyselffortherestofabusynight.Strangely,itfeelslessdauntingthanitdidwhenIwalkedin.
AndIknowit’sonehundredpercentbecauseofthegirlswaitingonmeathome.
—
Wedon’tgetthedoorstotherestaurantcloseduntilafterten,andMarcoassuresmethatheandtheotherscanhandlebreakdownsinceIhadtocomeinearliertoday.NormallyIwouldfighthimonthis,butwiththepossibilityofcatchingCassiestillawakebackatthehouse…itdoesn’ttakemuchconvincingtogetmetoduckout.
Ithinkit’sbecausesheandSophiehaveweighedsoheavilyonmymindtonight—theirdaytogether,thefactthatIcouldn’tbethere—maybethat’swhyIdecidetocalltheowner,Joseph,onmywayhome.Itdoesn’ttakelongforhimtopickup,hisvoiceringingthroughthecarspeakersafteronlytwentysecondsorso.NormallyIwouldworryaboutcallingsomeoneatthishour,butJosephisanotoriousnightowl.
“Aiden?Everythingokay?”
“Oh,yeah.Everything’sfine.”
“Easynight,Ihope?”
“Mildshallotdisaster,butnothingwecouldn’thandle.”
“Yellowonions?”
Ilaugh.“Yeah,yellowonions.”
“Alwaysdoesthetrick.”
“Actually…Iwascallingaboutsomethingelse.”
“Oh?”Icanhearhimrustlingaround,nodoubtsettlingdeeperintohisfavoriteleatherchairthathelikestosmokein.“Everythinggoingallright?”
“Yes,everythingisgoinggreat,it’sjust…”
“Well,spititout,boy,”helaughs.“I’veneverknownyoutobetongue-tied.”
“IwasconsideringthepossibilityofhandingoffsomeofmydutiestoMarco.Lesseningmyworkloadabit.”
“You’renotthinkingofquittingareyou?”
“No,”Istress.“Ofcoursenot.Iloveitthere,andIloveworkingforyou.It’sjustthat…eversinceSophiecametolivewithmefulltime,I’vereallystartedtorealizejusthowmuchI’vemissedoutonherlife.It’smoreobviouswhenI’mseeinghereveryday,whenI’mremindedeverydayofhowmuchI’mnotseeing.Doesthatmakesense?”
“Ofcourseitdoes,”Josephsays,andIsighinrelief.“YouknowIwillworkwithyouhoweverIcan.”
“Iwouldofcourseunderstandifyouwantedmetostepdownasexecutivechef,orifyouneededtocutmywagestomakeupforthelesserresponsibilities—”
“Oh,nonsense,”Josephscoffs.“Noonewantsthat.Wecanfindawaytomakesureyouhavemoretimeathomewithouttakingyoudownfromtheposition.”Helaughsthen.“Marcowouldshithispantsifwesuggestedit,anyway.Everyonethereknowsthatthekitchencan’trunwithoutyou.”
“Ijustwanttobefairtoyou.”
“Son,you’vebeenfairtomeforyearsnow.You’veworkedyourselftothebone.Ialwayshopedyou’dfindareasontostarttakingsometimeforyourself.There’snobetterreasonthanfamily.”
Inodheavily,myvoicefeelingthick.“Ireallyappreciatethat.”
“Nowyoujustneedtogetyourselfagirl,andIcanreallystopworryingaboutyou.”
I’mverygratefulthatJosephcan’tseemyfacerightnow.“Aboutthat…”
“Oh?”
“IwasjustwonderingifIcouldbringaplus-onetoyourbirthdaypartyinafewweeks.”
“Well,loandbehold,Ihaveseenitall.You’recomingtotheparty?Andyou’rebringingadate?”
“Well…Ihaven’tbroughtitupyet…butI’mhopingthatshemightliketocomewithme.”
“TrustmewhenIsay,Icannotwaittomeetwhateverwomanhasgottenyoutotakeastepbackandstartenjoyingyourownlifeoutsideofwork.Shemustbesomething.”
Mymouthtwitchesinvoluntarily.“Sheis.”
“Well,yougetonhome,andI’mgoingtogetonwiththerestofthisnicebrandyI’vejustpouredmyself.”
Ichuffoutalaugh.“Soundslikeafinenight.”
“We’lltalkmoretomorrowaboutyourplus-one.Hurryupandaskher.”
“Yeah,yeah,Iwill.”
“Night,Aiden.”
“Night,Boss.”
IfeellighterafterIhangup;Ihadnoideahowthatconversationmightgo,butIthinkit’ssafetosayIcouldn’thaveimagineditgoinganybetterthanthat.Anditreallyistime,Ithink.Tostartsteppingbackandbeingmorepresentathome.WhenSophiefirstcame…everythinginmylifewassuchamess.Ididn’tknowhowtobeherfatherandrunthekitchenatthesametime.Andmaybethat’sstillalittletrue,but…IknowthatifCassiehadn’tshownup,Iwouldstillhavemyheadinthesand,tooignoranttoevenseehowmuchIwasmakingSophiesuffer.Withouther…Imightneverhavelearnedhowtoproperlytalktomydaughter.
Realizingthisonlymakesmewanttogethometoherfaster.
There’sverylittlethatcouldruinthegoodmoodI’minnow,butwhenanothercallsignalsonmyBluetooth,andIris’snamepopsuponmyconsoledisplay,Ifindthatit’stheonethingthatcomesdangerouslyclosetodoingso.Ijustneverknowhowtheconversationwillgowithher,andthat’swhyitalwaysmakesmesonervous.
“Hello?”
Irissoundstired.“Hey.Sorrytocallsolate.Ifiguredyou’dbebreakingthingsdown.”
“Iactuallyleftearly.Decidedtoheadhome.”
“That’sunlikeyou,”shepointsout.
“Yeah,well,it’sjustbeenalongday.”
“DidCassietellyouIdrovethemtothezootoday?”
Thisthrowsme.“Youdid?”
“Hercarwasactingupandshegavemeacall.Eveninvitedmetogowiththem.”
“Whydidn’tyou?”
“Couldn’tgetanyonetocoverformeatthestore.”She’squietforamoment.“She’stenacious,forananny.”
Ican’thelpbutlaughsoftly.“That’strue.”
“Listen,it’snotsomethingIwantedtodiscussaroundSophie,butIdidfeeltheneedtosay…thatIknowCassieisveryprettyandlikable.Hell,I’mstartingtolikeher.”
Ifeelmyselfprickle,notknowingwhereshe’sgoingwiththis.“And?”
“I’mjustsaying…Idon’tknowhowanysinglemancouldlivewithherwithoutsomethinghappening.”
“Iris,Idon’tknowwhatyou’reimplying,butIdon’tthinkthisisanyofyour—”
“I’mnotattackingyou,Aiden,”shesighs.“Honestly.”
“Thenwhatareyoutryingtosay?”
“Ijustwanttomakesurethat,regardlessofwhateverrelationshipmayformbetweenyouandCassie—andIdonotwanttoknowwhatthatis—Idon’twantSophietofalltothewayside.Justmakesureshe’syournumberonepriority,okay?”
Ican’thelpbutgetalittleirritated.“Iknowthatwithoutyoutellingme.”
“Don’tgetpissy.Ijustworryformyniece,okay?Ijustwanttomakesureshe’sbeingtakencareofinthebesthumanlywaypossible.”
“Again,Idon’tneedyoutotellmethis.”
Irissighsagain.“Okay.I’msorryIevencalled.It’sjustbeenweighingonme.IknowfromwatchingthemthatSophielovesCassie,it’scleartoanyonethat’saroundthemformorethanaminute,andIjusthopethatyouconsidertheconsequencesofSophiesuddenlylosingCassie’spresenceinherlifeifyoutwoweretostartsomethingupanditgoessour.”
Thismakesmepause.Admittedly,it’ssomethingIhaven’thadtimetoconsider.MostlybecauseIdon’twanttoimagineapossibilityofafuturewherethingsbetweenCassieandmegosour.
“Iappreciateyourconcern,”Isaytightly,tryingtoremaincivil,“butIcanpromiseyouthatSophiehasbeenandwillalwaysbemynumberonepriority.”
“Allright,”Irissays.“That’sallIwantedtosay.”
“Okay,wellthen,ifyou’redone—”
“Forwhatit’sworth,”shecutsin,andIfeelmyselftenseinwaiting.“IreallydothinkshelovesSophieverymuch.Ithinkshe’sgoodforher.”
Ikeepquietforseveralseconds,consideringthat.
“SodoI,”Ianswerfinally.
Irishangsuptoleavemeinthesilenceofthecar,leftwithallthethingsshe’ssaidandthenewpossibilitiesthatIhadn’tconsidered.Iabsolutelyhaven’tthoughtaboutwhatitmightmeanforSophieifCassieandIweretosuddenlyfallapart,knowingdeepdownthatitwoulddevastateSophieifthatweretohappen,justasmuchasI’mrealizingitwouldme.
Igripthesteeringwheeltighter.
Allthemorereasontomakesurethatdoesn’thappen.
—
ThehouseisquietwhenIstepthroughthedoor;Cassie’sroomisdarkandit’swellpastSophie’sbedtime,somyfirstassumptionisthatI’mtheonlyoneup.I’mstillalittlerattledbyIris’scall,andthatmightbewhyIbypassCassie’sroomandclodupthestairswearilyinsearchofthefridge.Maybeabeerwillhelpcalmmythoughts.
Soit’sasurprisewhenIstepontothelandingtobemetwiththesoftlightglowingovertheoven—Cassieleaningoverthesinkwithaspooninhandassheeatsdirectlyoutofanicecreamcarton.I’vecaughtherinmidbite,thespoonperchedatthetipofhertongueasshelicksthelastofthesweettreataway,andit’slikeaPavlovianresponse,thewaymycocktwitchesatthesightofit
Shesmilesaroundherspoon.“Wehavegottastopmeetinglikethis.”
“Itisbecomingahabit,”Imurmurback,distractedbyhermouth.
“Howwastherestofyournight?”
“Long.”Imovetowardthecounter,closingthedistancebetweenus.“Exhausting.”
“Poorbaby,”sheteases.
Ifyoutwoweretostartsomethingupanditgoessour.
IhatethatI’mstillthinkingaboutit.ThisthingbetweenCassieandmehasbarelyhadenoughspacetobreathe,andI’malreadyworryingabouthowitmightend.Whodoesthat?
“Everythingokay?”Cassiesetsherspooninthesink,stowingthecartonbackintothefreezerwhileIcirclethecountertogotoher.“Youlooktense.”
Ipullheragainstme,breathinginthescentofhershampooandlettingitcalmmyerrantthoughts.“Justareallylongnight.”
“Oh?”Shepushesaway,smilingupatmecoylyasherfingersteaseapathdownmysternum.“AnythingIcandotohelpwiththat?”
Ireachtocupherfaceinmyhands,mythumbsbrushingagainsthercheeks.HowhaveIonlyknownherforsuchashorttime?Whydoesitfeellikeitwouldbesomethingunsurvivableifsheweretosuddenlywalkaway?
Itrytopushthisridiculoustrainofthoughtfaraway.“Whatdidyouhaveinmind?”
“Well,Ihappentoknowforafactthatyouhaveapreferredmethodofbeingcomforted.”
Igrinagainsthermouthwhenshepushesuponhertoestomeetme,andthethoughtofmakingherscreamonmytonguedoesimmediatelyeasesomeofthetensioninmyshoulders.“I’dbehappytoindulgeifyouwanttohopuponthecounter,”Imurmuragainsthermouth.
“Ohno,”shesayssweetly,kissingmeagaingently.“IwasthinkingIcouldreturnthefavor.”
“Whatdoyou—”
Isuckinabreathasshesinksslowlytoherknees,tuggingatmyhipsuntilI’mpressedagainstthecounter,andIbracemyselfwithmyhandsbehindmyback
“Cassie,youdon’t—”
She’salreadyunbucklingmybelt.“Youdon’tthinkthiswillmakeyoufeelbetter,Mr.Reid?”
“Fuck,”Ihiss,tensingwhenherhandslipsbetweenthefabrictopalmmethroughmyboxerbriefs.“Jesus,Cassie.”MyheadturnsbacktowardstheemptylivingroombehindthekitchenislandI’mcurrentlyleaningagainst,eyeingthedarklandingofthestairs.“Sophie…”
“Outlikealight,”Cassieassuresme.“We’llbequiet.”Shepeeksupatmewithaflickerofhesitationinhereyes.“Unlessyoudon’twantto…?”
MygoodsensewarswiththeoverridingsensationofCassie’shandsonme,noticingthatfromthebottomofthestairs,theonlythingsomeonemightseeiftheycamealongwouldbemyback,giventhatCassieiskneelingontheoppositesideoftheislandthathidesmylegs.It’sabadidea,probably,butthenagain,Iamstillfindingitincrediblydifficulttothinkwithmybrainrightnow.
“Quiet,”Imurmurback,focusingonCassie’striumphantgrin.“Quick.”Iswallow.“You’resure?”
“Very,”Cassiepracticallypurrs,makingmycocktwitchunderherpalm.“Justbestill.”
Shecontinuestotouchmegently,tracingmyshapewithherforefingerandthumbbeforeshehooksintothewaistband.Shegrabsattheelastic,inchingitdownuntilmycockbobsfree,alreadyhardjustfromherlighttouch.Herfistimmediatelywraparoundmetogivemeaheavystrokefrombasetotipthathasmybreathhissingpastmyteeth,herslimfingersgrippingmycockandmakingmybloodheat.Thewayshestrokesmeslowlyisenoughtomakemeunhinged.
“Youhavetobequiet,Aiden,”shesayswiththatsamecoysmile.Sheteasesthetipwithhertongue,justenoughtomakemegasp.“Canyoubequietforme?”
“Careful,”Iwhisperinwarning.
Sheslidesherfisttorestjustundertheheadofmycock,swirlinghertonguearounditasIshiver,hervoicejustassoftasmine.“WhatshouldIbecarefulof?”
“YoushouldbecarefulthatIdon’tactuallyfuckthatprettymouth.”
“Youcan,”sheteases,wrappingherlipsaroundmetosuckbeforesheletsmegowithawetpop.“Ifyouwant.”
God.WhatisitaboutCassiethatmakesmelosecontrol?Iwanttobegentlewithher,Iwanttobeassweettoherasshedeserves—buteverytimeshetouchesme,Iseemtodevolveintosomecrudestatethatcan’tfocusonanythingotherthanfuckingherashardandasdeepasI’mableto.
“Thenopenwider,”Iurgethroughgrittedteeth.“Givemeyourtongue.”
Shekeepshereyestrainedupwardtokeeplookingatmewhensheextendshertongueandflattensitjustunderthebroadhead,closingherlipsaroundthetiptoswirlaroundit.Mymouthpartsasmylashesflutterwiththeheatofhermouth,andIraisemyhandalmostinstinctivelytoslidemyfingersthroughherhair,pushingitawayfromherfacejustassheletstheheadofmycockbulgeagainsthercheek.
Icouldcomefromthevisualalone,ifIreallywantedto.
Shepushesuponherkneesabitasshegrabsmyhipwithonehand,lettingtheotherfistatthebaseofmycockassheslowly,slowlybeginstopushherlipsdownthehardlength.Hereyesdriftclosedasshetakesmeasdeepasshe’sable—lipsmeetingherfistassheswallowsaroundthefatheadthatnestlesinthesoftwarmthofherthroat.
“Fuck,Cassie,”Igrindoutundermybreath.“Justlikethat.Jesusfuck.”
Myheadfallsbackasmyhipsjerk,tryingtokeepstillasshedrawsbackuptocaresstheundersideofmyshaft.Mystomachclencheswhenhertongueteasestheflaredlipjustbeneaththeheadbeforegivingthetipalightswirl,andInearlychokewhenshestartstoflickhertongueagainstthelittleslitthere.
Sheletstheentireheadslippastherlipsafter,holdingitinhermouth,givingmeaheavystrokeupanddownbeforereleasingmealtogether.Sheoffersupsomeofhersalivatoletitdripdownonmycockhead,immediatelyslickingherfistdownthelengthinsteadystrokesbeforeshepullsmebackinsidehermouth,beginningtobobherheadintimewithherstill-strokingfist.
“You’regonnamakemecomeinyourfuckingthroat,”Isaybreathlessly,tryingandfailingtomaintainanysemblanceofcontrol.“Thatwhatyouwant?”
Shehumsaroundmycockasherheadgivesajerkylittlenodthatonlyshovesmedeeperinside,hernostrilsflaringasshebreathesindeepthroughhernose.
IgrindmyteethtogethersohardIfeartheymightchip.“Youwantmycomeinthathotlittlemouthofyours?”
Shemoanssoftlyasshepushesdowntomeetherfistthatworksthebase,andIcanseethewayherotherhanddisappearsbetweenherlegs,thewayherwristmovesinawaythatcanmeannothingelsebutthatshe’stouchingherself.
“Areyougonnacomewithmycockinyourmouth,Cassie?”MywordscomeoutharshandgratingasItrytokeepmyvoicelow,tryingmybesttobeasquietasI’daskedhertobethatfirsttime“Yourmouthisafuckingdream,”Ipant,myfingerswindingthroughherhairuntilI’mhalfgrippingit.“Knewitwouldbe.Fuck.”
Ifistherhairjustaboveherhead,nottightenoughtohurtherbuttightenoughtoholdherthere—andherhandslipsfrommycocktoreachformyhip,squeezingmeinencouragementasshelooksupatmethroughheavy-liddedeyes.
Inoddownather,andthenaslow,curiousthrustintohermouth—andCassiejustcloseshereyeswithanothersofthumaroundme.Islideoverhertongueslowlybutpurposefully,pushingdeepintohermouth,asdeepasIcanuntilIhearthelittlesoundsshemakesinresistance,immediatelydrawingbackoutasIgaugehowmuchshecantake.Irepeattheentireprocesstogetafeelforher,myteethgrindingtogetherandmycockpainfullyhardwiththeneedtocome,butIholdonasIdoitallagain,andagain—eachthrustcomingjustalittlefasterthanthelast.
“Thereisnogoddamnedpartofyou”—IclosemyeyesasIgiveherhairasofttugandtiltherheadbackasIstarttorockinandoutofhermouthfaster—“Idon’twanttofuck.”
ShewhimperswhenIdrivealittledeeper—eyesblearyandwet—butshedoesn’tshyaway.Shepushesherselfupstraighteronherknees,wriststillworkingfuriouslyassheteasesherclit—openingalittlewiderasmycocknudgesatthebackofherthroat.
“Fuck,”Irasp.“Gonnacome.Areyouclose?”
Sheonlyclosesherlipsaroundmeinanswer,forcingmetofeeleverywetinchofhermouthasIdelveinsideagainandagainandagain.There’sasoftmewlinginherthroatthatissharpandstaccatoasitbuildsandbuilds,morphingintoaquietmoanasherbodybeginstotremble,onethatreverberatesaroundeveryinchofmycockandpullsmerightovertheedge.
MybreathleavesmeinarushasIgruntthroughit,holdingmycockinhermouthwithaheavypressagainstthebackofherheadasIspillintoherthroat.Icanfeelherswallowingaroundme,takingeverythingIgiveher—starsbloominginmyvisionfromthesheerpleasureofitall.
Myraggedbreathistheonlysoundthatremainsinthequietkitchenafter—myfingersunwindingfromherhaironebyoneasIpullawaytoletmysofteningcockfallfromhermouth.IhelpheruponshakylegsasIpullheragainstmychest,notcaringintheslightestthatmycomeisprobablystillonhertongueasmyhandwrapsforcefullyaroundthebackofhernecktopullherinforakiss.
HerhandsflattenagainstmychestasIcageherin,kissingherdeeplyasmyheartslowlybeginstoceaseitserraticpounding.
Shescratcheshernailsplayfullyagainstmyshirt.“Feelbetter?”
“Idon’tthinktheyhaveawordforhowIfeel,”Isaywithahuffofalaugh.Iletmylipsslantagainsthersagainbrieflybeforemuttering,“Howareyousoperfect?”
Shedoesn’tanswer,butthatshygrinathermouthspeaksvolumes—atleastforme.HowamIsupposedtogetahandleonallthethingsshemakesmefeelwhenshelooksatmelikethat?
“Youknow…ifyousetanearlyenoughalarm,youcouldprobablygetawaywithsleepinginmybed.”
“Isthatso.”Myeyesdiptohermouth.“Ican’tpromiseyouI’llletyousleep.”
Hersmilehitchesupafractionasshegivesmyhandatug,leadingmeoutofthekitchentowardthestairs.Igoeasily,becausehowcanInot—thinkingaboutthetroublethatI’min.BecauseIstillhavenoideahowtomakesenseofthethingsI’mfeeling,thethingsIwant—nordoIhaveanywaytocombatthestrangeworrytheybring,theanxietiesthatcomewithgettingmyselfdeeperanddeeperinthisthingwe’vestarteduntilwegettoapointwhereImightnotsurvivetheendofit.Butatthispoint…I’mnotsureifthere’sanythingIcandoaboutit—nowaytoturnanyofitoff.
Iknowdeepdown…it’stoolateforthatnow.Chatwith@alacarte
It’salsokindofweirdjustcallingyou“A.”
Iknow.I’mnotverycreative.
Iwonderaboutthattoo.Whatyourrealnameis.
SometimesIwishyouknew.
Iwanttohearyouscreamingitwhenyoucome.
CHAPTER17Cassie
Whydidn’tyoubringmygirlwithyou?”
IcockaneyebrowatWanda.“Oh,soSophieisyourgirlnow?HaveIbeenreplacedbyayoungerwoman?”
“Theheartwantswhattheheartwants,”Wandasayswithashrug.
“Right,”Ilaugh.“Sophiedoesn’tgetoutofschoolforacouplemorehours.”
“Well,boo.”Wandashufflesoutofthekitchentosettledowninherchair.“Seemslikeshehadalotoffunonherbirthday.It’sallshetalkedaboutthatdayyoubroughtthecakeover.”
“Shehadablast.She’dhavewornthatprincessdresstoschoolifwe’dlether.”
“IforgottogiveherthepresentIboughthertheotherday,”Wandasays.“Makesureyoutakeittoher,yeah?”
“Justkeepit,”Itellher.“I’llbringherbyagainafterschooltomorrow.Aidenhasinventoryanyway,sohe’llprobablybelate.”
“Howarethingsonthatfront?”
Ikeepmyfaceneutral,appearinginterestedinapieceoffuzzonmyshirt.“Oh,youknow.They’reokay.”
“Justokay,huh?”
“Yeah.”Imanagetopickthebitoflintaway,rollingitbetweenmyfingerstolookbusy.“Ithinkit’sallgoingtoworkoutfine.Aidenstilldoesn’tknowwhoIam,soaslongasIkeepbeingcareful,Ithinkthateverythingwillbe—”
“WhathaveItoldyouaboutlyingtome?”
Ilookupatherwithsurprise.“What?”
“Itoldyou,onlyliarsuse‘fine.’?”
“Oh,that’sabunchofbullshit,andyouknowit.”
“Now,don’tthinkyou’resosprythatIcan’twhoopyourass.”
Irollmyeyes.“Seriously,everythingisokay.”
“Cassie.”
Iworryatmylowerlip,avertingmyeyestotheoldshagcarpetbeneathmyfeet.IthinkI’mafraidifIsayitoutloudthatitwillsomehowjinxeverything.It’sonlybeenaweeksincewegotbackfromourtrip,andeverytimeAidentouchesme(whichseemstobeanystolenmomenthecanfindthechancetodoso),Ithinkthatthiswillbethetimehefindsout.I’vebeencarefultokeepmyscarhiddenfromhim,andifhethinksit’sweirdthatIkeepavoidingtakingoffmyshirtorthatI’malwayspullinghimintoapositionthathidesmyback—hehasn’tsaidanythingyet.
“Hehasn’tfigureditout,”Isayagain.“WhoIam.”
“Butsomethingisdifferent,”Wandaaccuses.“YoulookmorenervousthanaprizeturkeyinNovember.”
“Didyouknowonlymaleturkeysgobble?”
“Littlegirl,ifyoudon’ttellmewhathappenedrightthissecond…”
“I—”Imakeafrustratedsound,fallingbackagainsthercouchcushionsandgrabbingforoneofthethrowpillowstopresstomyfacetowhinehername.“Wanda.”
“Ohboy.Whatdidyoudo?”
Ikeepthepillowagainstmyface,mumblingintothefabric.“Isleptwithhim.”
“What?Can’thearyou.”
“Isleptwithhim,”Isaylouder,peekingoverthepillow.
Wandablinksbackatmewithanunreadableexpression,dumbstruckforafewsecondsbeforesheblowsoutabreaththroughherlipswithashakeofherhead.“Well,shit.”
“Iknow.”
“Wasitgood?”
“That’syourfollow-up?”
Sheraisesherhandsinnocently.“What?Ifyou’regoingtohellanyway,youmightaswellenjoyit.”
“Aren’tyousupposedtotellmewhatabadideathisis?”
“Oh,it’saterribleidea,butit’salsobeen,what?Likeeighteenmonthssinceyougotany?”
“Itoldyouthatinconfidence,”Igrumble.
“IfanyonedeservesagoodtriptoPoundTown,it’syou.”
“Pleasedon’teversayPoundTowntomeagain.”
“Youstillhaven’tansweredthequestion.I’mold,Cassie.Ineedsomeexcitementinmylife.”
“YougetmoreplaythananyoneIknow.”
“Iwastryingtospareyourfeelings.”
Ithrowanarmovermyface.“Itwasgreat,okay?Itisgreat.Wehaven’tstoppedsincewegotbackfromAnaheim.”
“Ohboy.”
“Iknow.AmIahorribleperson?”
“Forwhichpart:sleepingwithyourboss,ornottellinghimheusedtowatchyoudiddleyourskittleoncamera?”
“OhmyGod.”
“What?Whatdothekidscallit?”
“Iwanttodie.”
“No,youdon’t,”Wandalaughs.“YouknowI’mjustpullingyourleg.”
“Butyou’reright.I’mterrible,right?Ishouldtellhimthetruth.”
“Imean,yeah.Youprobablyshould.Thelongeryouwait,theworseit’llbe,youknow?”
“Iknowthat.Ido,but…”
“Butwhat?”
“I’mscared,okay?Ilikehim.He’snotjustsomevoiceonmylaptopanymore,he’sAiden.Andhe’sperfect,andI’mafraidoffuckingitupandhimdisappearingagain.”
That’sanunderstatement.I’mterrified.Everythingaboutthelastweekhasseemedlikesomethingoutofadream,anddeepdown,somethingtellsmethatifAidenweretofindoutwhatI’mkeepingfromhim,itwouldallbeover.Italreadyhappenedonce,soitstandstoreasonthatitwillhappenagain.
“Firstofall,”Wandastarts.“Nobodyisperfect.Soknockthatoff.Second,Idon’tcareifAidenhastwodicksandaseven-inchtongue—he’dbeadamnedfooltotossyouaside.”
“Again,”Ipointout.“Happenedoncealready.”
“Hedidn’tknowwhoyouwere,”Wandainsists.“Andyoudidn’tknowhim.Notreally.Youcan’tplanyourwholefuturejustbecauseofonebaddayfromthepast.”
“Iguess.”
“Butthatdoesn’tmeanyouneedtobekeepingsecrets.”
Ifrown.“Iknewyouweregoingtosaythat.”
“BecauseyouknowI’mright,Cassandra.”
“Ouch.Fullname.Pullingoutthebigguns,huh.”
“Youalwaysthinktheworstofpeople,”Wandasighs.“Youcan’tjustassumesomethingwillgowrongbeforeyougiveitachance.”
“Well,inmyexperience,that’sexactlyhowit’sbeen.”
“Oh,horseshit.Onlywhenitcomestothosegarbageparentsofyours.Andyoudon’teventalktothemanymore.Youcan’tletthebadtastetheyleftinyourmouthruinyourwholedinner.”
“Well,that’safunanalogy.”
“I’mjustassumingAidenistasty.”
“Oh,gross.”
Wandachuckles,shruggingatme.“ButamIwrong?”
“Youarejustentirelytoooldtobethishorny.”
“Don’tbeageist.”
“Yeah,yeah.”
“So,areyouevergoingtotellhim?YouknowI’mright.Thelongeryouwait,theuglieritcouldget.”
“Iknowthat.Iknow.I’mgoingtotellhim.Iam.Ijust…I’mnotreadyyet.”
“Youmightneverbe,”shetellsme.“Doesn’tmeanyoushouldn’tdoit.”
Igroan.“Whydoyoualwayshavetobesoright?”
“It’sbecauseI’m—”
“Old,”Ifinish.“Yeah,Iknow.”
“Justgivehimachance.Peoplecansurpriseyou,ifyouletthem.”
“Maybe,”Isigh.“Idon’tknow.”
“Well,Ido,”shesaysforcefully,grumblingasshepushesupfromherrocker.“Youknowwhy?”
“Yeah,yeah,”Ihuff,wavingheroff.
“Youwantadrink?”
“It’stwoo’clockintheafternoon.”
“Youthinktimematterswhenyoupassseventy?”
“IhavetopickupSophieinabit.”
“Moreformethen,”shesays.
Iwatchhershuffleintoherkitchen,pullingatherterryrobeandbeltingittighteraroundherwaist.I’mleftstaringatthepopcornceilingofherapartmentasshebeginstorummagethroughherfridge.Iknowthatshe’sabsolutelyright,thatcontinuingtokeepthingsfromAidenwillonlymakeitthatmuchharderwhenheinevitablylearnsthetruth;it’snotlikeIcankeepthescaronmybackasecretforever,afterall.Andgivenitssizeanditsmeaningandthathe’soneofmaybefourpeoplewhoknowitexists—Idon’tthinkIcanexplainitawayeasily.
Youcan’tplanyourwholefuturejustbecauseofonebaddayfromthepast.
Ihatethatshe’salwaysright.
—
Idon’ttellhimthatnight,orseveralnightsafter,andaweeklater,I’mstillvacillatingbetweenwhetherornotIshouldtellhimatall.Icouldarguethatthereishardlytimeforadiscussionlikethatsinceallouralonetimeisfilledwithsecretkissesandtouchesthatmakemelosemyhead,butI’mwellawareit’sathreadbareexcuseatbest.HowinthehelldoIevenstartaconversationlikethat?
Oh,bytheway,youactuallyusedtowatchmetouchmyself.Ithoughtyoulikedme,butthenyoughostedme.Isn’titfunnyhowwefoundeachotheragain?
Eveninmyheaditsoundsludicrous.
I’mfrowningatthecoffeemakeronthisparticularmorning,watchingcoffeedripintothepotwhilemythoughtsarefaraway,andit’sprobablyforthatreasonthatIdon’thearhimcomingdownthestairs.Idon’trealizehe’sthereuntilIfeelAiden’sarmsslidingaroundmywaisttopullmeagainstasolidbody,andIcan’thelpthesillygrinthatformswhenIfeelhislipsatmythroat.
“Goodmorning.”
“Sophie…?”
“Stillpassedout,”hetellsme.“Ijustchecked.”
“Someone’sgettingbold,”Itease.
“Mm.Addicted,maybe.”
“Icallthatjobsecurity.”
Hepullsawayfrommelaughing.“Hysterical.”
“Whatdoyouwantforbreakfast?”
“Whateveritis,webetterstartnowbeforeSophiewakesup,orwe’llbehavingpancakesagain.”
“Ithinkyou’rejustsorethatshedoesn’tlikeyourpancakes.”
“I’vecookedforsenators,andIcan’tsatisfyaten-year-old.Howwouldyoufeel?”
“Maybetrysomethingelse.Evenyoucan’tmessupeggsandbacon.”
IcatchAidenrollinghiseyesbesideme,andIwinkathimbeforeIreturnmyattentionbacktothenowbeepingcoffeemachine.“Goon.I’llmakethecoffee.Youcanbethebreakfasthero.”
“She’llprobablyhatethattoo,”hegrumbles.
“Don’tworry.I’llshowyouhowtomakethemright,”Isayseriously.IturnonmybestNormanOsbornimpression.“Youknow,I’msomethingofachefmyself.”
“ShouldaSpider-Manreferenceturnmeon?”
“Probablynot,”Ideadpan.“Somethingisprobablyseriouslywrongwithyou.”
Iyelpwhenhesuddenlylandsasmackagainstmyass,grinningbackathimwhilehestartstoriflethroughthecabinetsforapan.It’smomentslikethisthatmakeitsohardtoentertainthethoughtoftellinghimthetruth,thiseasyroutinebetweenusmakingitevenmoredifficulttotrytofindsomesortofopeningtorevealourhistory.Thingshavebeensoperfect,anddon’tIdeservealittleperfectinmylife?It’sbeenagessinceI’vehadany.Therehastobesomeuniversallyacceptedperfect-to-shitratioforeveryone.
IdohearSophiewhenshecomesdownthestairs,turningtocatchherstretchingherarmsoverherheadwhenshereachesthelaststep,lookingjustlikeherdadwhenhefirstwakesup.IfeellikeIshouldn’tfeelsohappytohavenoticedit.
You’vegotitbad,CassieEvans.
Sophielurchessleepilyintothekitchentojoinuslikeanewlyturnedzombie,mumbling,“What’sforbreakfast?”
“Yourdadiscooking,”Itellher.
Shemakesaface.“Notpancakes,right?”
“Hey,”Aidencounters,soundingoffended.“WhatifI’dbeenpracticing?”
“Havetobealotofpractice,”Sophiesnorts.
Aidenlooksatmeincredulouslywithaspatulainonehandandaskilletintheother.“DoyouseewhatIdealwith?”
“Oh,poorbaby,”Icoo,pouringacupofcoffeeforhim.“Somistreated.”
Heshakeshishead,returninghisattentiontothestove.“Everyoneisagainstme.”
Sophiegrinsatmefromthecounter,whereshe’sfoundaseat,andIreturnitconspiratoriallyasIgrabmyownmug.IwatchquietlyasSophieandAidencontinuechattingbackandforthwhilehebusieshimselfwithbreakfast,andagainthereisthatcreepingsenseofguiltthatsettlesinmychestlikeastickyweight.It’ssomethingI’veneverexperienced,thiswarmsenseoffamilytime.WhenIwasakid,Iwasusuallymakingmyownbreakfast,andmoreoftenthannot,Ididitinanemptyhouse.IsthatwhyI’msohesitanttoscrewthingsuphere?
Thinkingaboutitmakesmyheadhurt.
“Cassie?”
Iturntooquickly,realizingAidenistalkingtome.“Hmm?”
“Isaid,howdoyoulikeyoureggs?”
“Oh.Justhoweveryouguyshavethemisfine.I’mnotpicky.”
“Overeasyitis,”hedecides.
Sophieblowsaraspberry.“Ilikescrambled!”
“Scrambleditis,”Aidencorrects.
Sophieleansonherelbowsoverthecounter.“Canwegobacktotheparkafterbreakfast?”
“Youhaveschooltoday,”Aidenremindsher.
“She’sofftoday,”Itellhim.“Parent-teacherconferences.”
Aidenfrowns.“Ididn’tknowthat.AmIsupposedtogo?”
“Nope,”Sophiesayssmugly.“Iexceedexpectations.”
Hergrinmakesmelaugh.“Shegotanoteinherbackpackthatsaidshedidn’tneedasit-down.She’smakingstraightAs.”IcastanapologeticlookinAiden’sdirection.“Sorry,Imeanttotellyou.”
“No,no,it’sfine.Thanksforstayingontopofit.”
“Socanwego?”Sophielooksexpectant.“Tothepark?Please?”
“Idon’tknow,”Aidensayswithacluckofhistongue.“Idon’tknowifIcanmanagethewalkwhileI’mstillsodevastatedaboutmyterriblepancakes.”
“You’regoodatotherthings,”Sophietries.“Like…youalwaysknowwherethebatteriesare!”
“Wow,”Aidensaysdryly.“Suddenlymylifehasmeaningagain.”
I’mtryingtohidemysmilebehindmycoffeecupwhenhelooksatme,feelingmystomachflutterwhenheflashesmealazygrinthatshowsjustabitofteeth.Evenaftereverythingwe’vedone,itstilltakesmebysurprise,howeffortlesslygorgeousheis;justlookingathismouthisenoughtomakemeflustered.Notforanyparticularreason,ofcourse.I’mabsolutelynotthinkingaboutthewayhismouthwasbetweenmylegslastnight,that’sforsure.
“Youknow,”ItellSophie,tryingtopushthosethoughtsawaybeforeIstartblushing.“IfoundaFrisbeeinoneofmyboxesI’vebeenputtingoffunpackingtheotherday.Ibetwecouldtotallykickyourdad’sass.”
“Yeah,let’skickhisass.”
Aidenfrowns.“Sophie.”
“Oops.”Ishoothimanapologeticlook.“Sorry.”
Hedoesn’tlookangry,infact,Ithinkhe’stryingnottosmile.“Also,youshouldbothprobablyknowthatIwasonanUltimateFrisbeeteamincollege.”
“Oh,wow,”Isayamusedly.“Ican’ttellifthat’simpressiveorsad.”
Aidenraisesaneyebrowbutsaysnothing.
“Goaheadandgoshower,”hetellsSophie.“I’llbedonewithbreakfastbythetimeyoufinish.”Heturnstopointhisspatulaatusboth.“AndthenI’mgoingtokickbothofyourassesatFrisbee.”
Sophiegigglesasshehopsoffthebarstool,boundingbackupstairstoleaveusbothalone.Aidenflipsthebaconinthepanagainbeforeheletsthespatularestattheedgeoftheskillet,sneakingaglancetowardthestairsbeforehecrowdsmeagainstthecounter.
“Whatwasthataboutkickingmyass?”
Ipeekupathimthroughmylashes,smilingslyly.“Areyouworried,Mr.Reid?”
“Notatall,”hesayswithconfidence.“WithfullrespecttoyouandmysweetlittlegirlwhoIlovedearly—I’mgoingtodestroyyouboth.”
Thatprobablyshouldn’tmakemesoexcited.
“MaybeI’masecretFrisbeechampion?MaybeIplayedatnationalsinhighschool.”
“Idon’tthinkthat’sathing.”
“See,thefactthatyoudon’tknowaboutnationalsdoesn’tinstillconfidenceaboutyourskill.”
Aidengrins,leaningintolethisnoserunalongmyjaw,distractingme.“Wouldyoubewillingtomakeabet?”
“Mm.”IclosemyeyeswhenIfeelhislipsatmythroat.“Abet?”
“Justtomakeitinteresting.”
“AndwhathappenswhenIwin?”
“Ifyouwin,”hecorrects.
“Keeptellingyourselfthat.”
“Ifyouwin,”hesays,hislipstiltingagainstmyskin,“I’mgoingtofuckyouonthiscountertomorrowafterItakeSophietoschool.”
“Oh?”Mylaughisshakynow,hishandcurlingatmyhipandmakingitdifficultformetokeepmymugsteady.“Isthataprizeformeorforyou?Whathappensifyouwin?”
Hepullsaway,smilinglazilyashelooksdownatmebeforeclosingthedistancebetweenhismouthandmine.“IfIwin,”hemurmursagainstmylips,“I’mgoingtofuckyouonthiscountertomorrowafterItakeSophietoschool.”
“Wow.Thosearesomeseriousprizes.ItsoundslikeIwineitherway.”
“Ipromise,I’mthewinnerhere.”
Hislipsbrushagainstmine,andmylashesflutterclosedasheappliesmorepressure,myheaddoingthatthingwhereitgoesallfuzzyjustlikeitalwaysdoeswhenhekissesme.Ifeelthewarmthofhistongueasitteasestheseamofmymouth,openingtolethiminashekissesmeinaslow,dizzyingway.
“Yourbaconisburning,”Imumbledistractedly.
Aidensniffsashebreaksawayfromme.“Fuck.”
“Areyousureyou’reachef?”
Aidenscoffsasheattemptstosavethebacon.“Everyone’sacritic.”
I’mstillsmilingasItakeanothersipfrommymug,mythoughtslessfocusedonmyguiltafterhistouchbutnotgoneentirely.It’sthisthatIdon’twanttofuckup,Ithink.ThiseasymorningthatcouldbecomeanormifIletit.Idon’twanttoloseAiden’stouchorSophie’ssmileortheircutebickeringaboutpancakes.Idon’twanttoloseanyofit.
Maybeitwouldn’tmatter,mybrainhopes.Thatwekneweachother.Thingsaredifferentnow,right?
Itakeanotherslowsip,tryingtopushthislineofthoughtdown.
I’lltellhim,Iassuremyself.
Although,atthispoint,I’mtryingtoconvincemyselfmorethananyone.Ishouldhaveaskedhertodothisalongtimeago.SeeingherbentoverherbedasshefucksherselfwiththevibratorIboughther—Icanseeeverythinglikethis.
I’mimagininghowsoftshe’dfeelifIslippedmyfingersinsideher,howwetshe’dbeifIgavehermycock.It’sallIthinkaboutanymore,andseeingherlikethis…herassintheairandherprettypussyfullyondisplayforme?
Imightactuallybegoinginsane.
CHAPTER18Cassie
I’mgoingtotellhimtoday,I’vedecided.
Iknowit’snotagoodlookthatIwaitedyetanotherday,butit’sjustthatwehadsuchagoodtimeattheparkyesterday(IlostatFrisbee,butwiththebetwemade,didIreally?),andthenAidenworkedlate,andit’sjustnotsomethingIcouldbringmyselftotalkaboutovertext.Evenface-to-face,thereisagoodchancehe’llgetirreversiblyangryandtellmetogetoutofhishouse,whichissomethingI’vebeentryingtobracemyselffor,butdeepdownIknowitisn’tsomethingIcouldeverbepreparedfor.
I’vebeenpacingaroundthelivingroomwhileAidentakesSophietoschool,runningthrougheverypossibleoutcomeinmyhead.Insomeversions,Aidenisconfusedbutunderstanding.Inothers,heissoangrythathecan’tevenlookatme.Andinthemoredelusionalpossibilities—he’sevengladtohavefoundmeagain.
Butthatseemsunlikely.
Ihavetotellhimthough.Today.Beforehecangetbackhereanddistractmewithhiskissandhistouchandallthatcomeswithit.IknowifIlethimtouchme,I’lllosemyresolve,evenifsomethinginthebackofmybrainbegsthatIkeepitquietjustalittlelonger,becausewhatiftodayisthelasttimeheeverdoes?It’ssomethingIdon’tevenwanttoconsider,butIknowthatIhaveto.
AndIcanlivewiththat,ifithappens.Oratleast,that’swhatI’mtellingmyself.Ididitonce,right?Sure,itwasshitty,butIgotoverit.Mostly.
Youknowit’sdifferentnow,mybrainwhispers.
Andthat’sthecruxofitall.Aidenisnolongerthatfacelesspersonwhoturnedmeonandwhisperedtomeinthedark.Now,he’sthispersonwhoseemslikesomuchmorethanIdeserve,withhisnicesmileandhisprettyeyesandhisaddictivelaugh.Now,Aidenisdadjokesandforeheadkisses(Sophie)andsecretkisses(me)andsweet,filthywordswhisperedinthedarkthataremurmureddirectlyinmyearratherthanthroughmycomputerspeakers.He’srealnow,andthatmeansitwillbeathousandtimeshardertogetoverhim.
I’vebeengoingovermyspeechinmyhead,tryingtohammeroutexactlywhatI’mgoingtosaysothatIhaveafightingchanceofconvincingAidenthatIhadnoideaaboutourhistorybeforecominghere,andthatI’veonlykeptitfromhimsincelearningaboutitforfearofhowhemightreact.Surelyhecan’tfaultmeforthat,right?It’sreasonableformetoreactthewayIdid.Itfeelslikeitisinmyownhead,atleast.
Fuck.
Thisisgoingtobeadisaster.
MyphonebuzzesonthecounterafootawayfromwhereI’mpacing,andI’msoonedgethatitactuallymakesmejumpbeforeIsnatchitup.There’satextfromAidenwaitingformeonmylockscreen,andIslideitopentocheckitasmystomachtwistsmoreintoknots.
AIDEN
Onmywayback.
EvenasnervousasIam,thereisstillabitofflutteringunderneathalltheanxiety,becausedespitemydeterminationtosabotagehisplans,I’mstillthinkingaboutthealternativecourseofactionwhereIjustkeepmymouthshutandletAidenmakegoodonhispromisetofuckmeonthecountertop.
Youhavetotellhim.
Ireally,really,hatedoingtherightthing.
AfteraroundofwearingaCassie-sizedpathintothelivingroomcarpet,IstepovertothekitchensinktorunsomecoldwatersothatIcanpressittotheflushedskinatmycheeksandneck,tryingtocalmmynervesevenasmyheartstartstopoundinmychestwithbuildinganxiety.IhadthoughtaboutcallingWandaforcourage,butI’mafraidthatifItalktoanyoneelsebeforeIgothroughwiththis,Imightbreakdownfromthestressofitall.Ireachforthetowelhangingonthehandletotheovendoortodrymyface,closingmyeyesandtakingdeepbreathstotrytocalmmyracingheart.
IhavenoideawhichpartofthismildpanicattackI’mexperiencingcausesmetomissthedooropeningdownstairssometimelater—butitmeansthatIactuallyjumpwhenIfeelAiden’sarmsslidingaroundme,pullingmebackuntilmyassisflushwithhishipsandkissingmyneck.
“Jesus,”Igasp.“Youscaredtheshitoutofme.”
Helaughsagainstmythroat.“Wasn’ttryingtosneakuponyou.”
Hishandsarealreadyslidingupandovermywaist,mylashesflutteringwhenhecantshiships,revealingthathe’salreadyhard.
“Wow,someoneisimpatient.”
“I’vebeenthinkingaboutfuckingyouonthiscountersincetheothernight,”hemurmurs,stillkissingmyneck.
Iclosemyeyes.“Iguessthat’swhatinspiredthestakesyoulaiddownfortheFrisbeegameyoucheatedat.”
“CatchingtheFrisbeeisn’tcheating.”
“Itiswhenyou’regigantic.”
“I’msorry.”Ifeelhishandslippingundermyshirttopalmmystomach,teasingthewaistbandofmyshorts.“CanImakeituptoyou?”
Mymouthtiltsupslowly,gettinglostinhistouch.“Mmm.Maybe.”
Wait.No.Thisiswhatwewantedtoavoid.
Iturnsuddenly,tryingtoputsomespacebetweenussoIcanfocusbutfindingmyselfcagedinbyhisarmsnowashebracesthemagainstthecounterbehindme.“Aiden,actually,I—”
“Issomeonetryingtobackoutofourbet?”
Christ,hestillthinksI’mplayingaround.PlayfulAidenmightbemykryptonite.
“No.”Ipressmypalmstohiships,goingforagentlepushbutdistractedbythebrushofhiscockagainstmythumbthroughhissweatpants.Bestrong.“That’snotit—”
Hisheadlowers,hislipsfeatheringagainstmine.“BecauseIwonfairandsquare,Cassie,”heutterssensually.
“Iknow,”Imanage.
Heonlyhastoleaninalittlesothattheshapeofhim,hardandwanting,slotsbetweenmythighs,andashiverpassesthroughme.
“AndI’mgoingtofuckyouonthatcounter.”
Iamnotstrong.Iamsonotstrong.
Icansenseithappening,canfeelthewayI’mforgettingallaboutwhatIresolvedmyselftodo—losingmysenseoffocuswhenhismouthslantsagainstmine.Myeyesdriftclosedashistongueslipsinside,teasingmewithitssoftnessthatisastarkcontrasttothehardnessbetweenmylegs.IslipintoitsoeasilythatIhardlyevennoticehishandsfindingmyass,hoistingmeupagainsthiminonefellswoopbeforespinningtosetmeonthekitchenislandbehindus.
Andheneverstopskissingme,notforasecond.
Fuckit,Ithinkdistantly.I’lltellhimafter.
Itrynottothinkaboutthefactthatthatdecisionmightmakethisthelasttimehetouchesmelikethis.
Hetakesmebysurprisealloveragainwhenhespinsme,maneuveringmybodyuntilI’mlyingoverthecounteronmystomach,mytoespressingagainstthetile.Hishandsgripmywaisttoholdmesteady,leaninghisbodyovermine,hisbreathwashingagainstthebackofmyneck.
“Holdon,”hesaysroughly,asatisfiedgrowltearingoutofhimwhenIreachtogriptheedgesofthecountertop.
Hishandsslideovermyhips,draggingmyshortsdownmythighsslowly—hummingsoftlywhenhe’sgotmeinonlymypalepinkcottonunderwearthatiscoveredincartooncats
“Moreprint,”helaughsquietly.
Hegripsmethroughthefabric,squeezingmyassroughlyasIwriggleinhishold.Hisfingersslidebetweenmylegs,andIknowhemustimmediatelybeabletofeelhowwetIamalready.Thecottonispracticallysoakedthrougheventhoughhe’sbarelytouchedme,andherubshisfingersthereslowlyasasoftmoanslipsoutofme.
Mylegsaretremblingwhenhefinallydragsmypantiesdownmythighsaswell,leavingmebareandwaitingandsoopenforhim.Hepushesafingerinside,andthenanother,holdingmebythehiptokeepmesteady,givingmejustenoughtoworkmeupbutnotenoughtocompletelysatisfy.
“Aiden,”Ihearmyselfwhine.“Canyou—”
“Inaminute,”hemuttershuskily.“Iwanttolookatyou.”
I’mcompletelyexposedlikethis,maybemorethanI’veeverbeenwithAidengiventhatit’sthemiddleofthedayinthemiddleofthekitchenatthefuckingcounterwhereweeatbreakfast.ButIstillcan’tseemtorustleupanyembarrassmentformycompromisingposition.Notwiththeslowslideofhisfingersinandoutofme,careful,likehe’smemorizingthewayIfeelaroundthen.
“You’resoprettyhere,”hewhispersreverently,pushinghisfingersdeeptomakemegasp.“Sosoft.”
Iturnmyfaceagainstthegranitetopeerbackathim,andhisexpressionisheady,eyestransfixedbetweenmylegsashecontinuestoteaseme.Icatchitwhenhefinallydrawshishandaway,slippinghisfingersintohismouth,hiseyesmeetingminetoholdmygazeashelicksanyremnantsofmeaway.
Idon’tthinkanyonewouldjudgethewayI’vestartedtosquirmneedily,notwiththewayAidenislookingatme.
I’mstillwatchingashepullshimselfout,grabbingmyhipstoholdmestillandslidinghiscockheadbetweenmyfolds.I’mstruckagainwiththeideaofhowondisplayIamlikethiswhenhestartstopushinside,warmthfloodingdeepintomystomachbecauseIknowthathecanseeeverythinglikethis.Andheiswatching…intently.
Icanfeeleveryinchofhimpressingslowlyinside,andthroughhoodedlidsIcontinuetowatchasAiden’slashesflutter,histeethpressingagainsthislowerlipashefillsandfillsuntilmyassiswrigglingagainsthispelvis,mytoesskirtingalongthefloorasheholdsmesuspended.
I’msofullofhim.Itmakesithardtothink.
Hepullsoutcarefully,drawingitout,makingsureIfeeleveryinchashegoes.It’salittlefasterwhenhepushesbackinside,Aidenhissingbetweenhisteethashebottomsoutjusttorepeattheprocessalloveragain,eachthrustcomingharderthanthelast.ThewayhehasmebentatthewaistmeansIfeeleachoneevenmoresothanusual,thateachonehitsjustabitdeeper.It’sasfrustratingasitisdelicious.
“Ican’t—”Ifeelbreathlessnow,myeyesscrewedshutandmymouthslackasIfocusonthesensation.“Ican’ttouchmyselflikethis.”
“Areyouaskingmeto?”
“Aiden,”Ipant.
Hedipsintomealittleharder.“Iwantyoutoaskme,”hegrunts.“Askmetomakeyoucome,Cassie.”
“AidenIswearifyoudon’t”—Icryoutwhenhefucksmemoreroughly,mybodyjoltingagainstthecounter—“fuckingtouchme.”
“Iwill.”Hechokesoutalaugh,pushingupmyshirtjustabitandslidinghishandsoverthesmoothexpanseofmylowerbackbeforeleaningtokissmyspine.“Ijustwanttohearyouaskmeforit.”
Hisfingersteaseoverthetopofmythigh,tracingalinedowntheinsideandlingeringashedrawsitbackupinchesawayfromwhereIneedhim.Butmyfocusissuddenlyzeroedinonthehandthatstrokesmyback.Myheartbeginstopoundforreasonsthathavenothingtodowithhiscockinsideme,knowingthatifhepushesupmyshirtjustalittlemore—he’llseeeverything.
Hisfingertipsskirtjustbelowmybrastrap,hisotherhandstillteasingbetweenmythighsevenashecontinuestostrokeintomeatasteadypace.“Askme,Cassie.”
“Fuckingtouchme,”Igrindout,mypulsepoundinginmyearsinbothpleasureandfear.“Please.”
Hehumsagainstmyskin,obliginginstantlyanddippinghisfingersbetweenmylegstofindthelittlebudofmyclit.Imoanwhenherubsit,mybodypracticallysighinginreliefwhenthepalmatmybackslidesbackdowntothesaferzonenearthebaseofmyspine.
Thankfuck.
Hefinallypullsitawayaltogethertowrapitaroundoneofmyhips,grippingmethereasheworksmesteadily,ashefucksmeunsteadily.He’sthrustingdeepnow,hisbodycurlinguntilhisbreathpantsagainstmyspineandhisskinisslappingagainstmine.Icantellbythewayhishipsbegintostutterthathe’sclose,canhearitinthesoftgroansthatescapehim.
“Itfeelssogoodwhenyoucome,”hehuffs.“Sogood.”Heslidesdeep,rollinghisfingersagainstmyswollenclit.“It’sbetterthananythingI’veeverfelt.”
Hiswordswashoverme,makingmeburnhotter,andIcanfeelthatsweetpressurebuildingbetweenmylegs,anticipatingthemomentwhenitburstsintoanalloverpleasure.
“Rightthere,”Ibreathe.“Don’tstop.”
HisfingersareslippingagainstmyclitwiththewayI’msoaked,buthekeepsrubbingmeinthatsamespotthatmakesmewhimperformore.“Never.”
Myfingersclenchandunclenchattheedgesofthecounter,andmybackattemptstoarcheventhoughIhavenoroomagainstthehardsurface,andthesoundsthatleavemymoutharebreathy,deep,needy—andthenIfeelit.
Itstartswithatremblinginside,aspasmingofmyinnerwallsthatisonlymademoreintensebyhiscock,whichstillcontinuestorockintome.Heletsoutaloud,gutturalsoundashepushesdeeponelasttime,andhedoesn’twithdraw,doesn’tmove—justsheatheshimselfandallowsmyquiveringbodytopullhimovertheedge.
Hiscocktwitchesheavily,fillingme—fillingmewithhiscome,hiswarmth,him—andhe’stooheavytobecoveringmelikeheis,butIdon’tmindit.Hefeelssogoodpressedagainstme,hisbigbodymoldedagainstmineashismouthwanders.Mynape,mythroat,myjaw—anybitofbareskinhecanreach.
“Goodthingyou’resobadatFrisbee,”hehuffsagainstmyhair.
Ipuffoutabreath.“Withstakeslikeyours,itdidn’tmattereitherway.”
“True.”Icatchhissoftchuckle,andheshuddersagainstmeashisforeheadrestsagainstmyspine.“Idon’twanttopulloutofyou.”
“Sir,that’showpeoplegetUTIs.”
Hebarksoutalaugh.“Sexy.”
“Propervaginalhealthisverysexy,”Istress.“Besides,ifyoudon’t,I’llbedrippingalloverthe—”
Webothfreezeasthedoorbellsounds,struckforamomentlikemaybeweimaginedit.Butthenitringsagain—andit’slikeaswitchhasbeenflipped,Aidenpullingoutofmewithahissandwinceaswebothmakeacomicallymaddashtomakeitlooklikewedidn’tjustfuckatthekitchencounter.
Aidengivesmeafrazzledlookashepullsuphissweatpants.“Areyouexpectingsomeone?”
“No,”Iscoff,situatingmypanties.“Areyou?”
“Ihavenoideawhothatcouldbe.”
“Maybeit’sthemailman.”
“Well,letme—”Hetugshisshirtfromthewaistbandofhissweatswhereit’stuckedinside.“ThenI’ll—”
“Fuck.”Imakeaface.“I’mleaking.”
Aidenpauseswhathe’sdoing.“Ishouldn’tbeturnedonbythat,right?”
“Notrightnowyoushouldn’t,”Isnort,wavinghimoff.“GogetthedoorwhileIusethebathroom.”
“Givemeasecond,andI’llcomehelpyoucleanup,”hesayswithaslygrin.
“Go,”Ilaugh.
Heturnstohurrydownthestairsasthedoorbellgoesoffagain,andImakefortheoppositedirectiontoduckintothehalfbathjustoffthekitchen.Ishutthedoorbehindmeandbreatheoutaheavysigh,alaughchasingafteritasadrenalinerushesthroughme.Iknowthatthere’sanentirefloorandafrontdoorbetweenwherewewereandwhoeveriswaitingonthefrontporch,butthewaymyheartjumpedintomythroatwhenthedoorbellrangfeltlikeactuallybeingcaught,andmyentirebodyisstillthrummingwithenergyfromthesurpriseofit.
IcleanmyselfupquicklybeforeAidencancomeinaftermeandmakegoodonhispromiseto“help”—I’vebeenexposedquiteenoughforoneday,thankyou—stilllaughingundermybreathasIwashanddrymyhandsbeforegoingbackoutintothehall.ImakeitaboutfivefeetbeforeIhearhervoice,mylaughterdyingonmytongueasthatsamerushcreepsbackinsidebutdarker,tryingtobrushitawayasIremindmyselfthereisnowaythatshecouldhaveanyideawhatwewerejustdoing.
IseethefacethatmatchesthevoicewhenIstepbackintothekitchen,IrissittingononesideofthecouchintheadjoininglivingroomasAidensitstenselyinthechairoppositeit.Shelooksupwhensheseesme,smilinginasmallbutnoticeableway,andthat’sagoodsign,right?
“Hey,”Igreet,keepingmytonecasual.“Whendidyougethere?”
“Justnow,”sheanswers.
“Oh,sorry.”Itryforasmile.“Iwasinthelaundryroom.Didn’tevenhearthedoorbellring.”
Idon’tmissthewayIris’seyesmovebetweenAidenandme,butIdomybesttoignoreit.
There’snowayshecouldknow.
HereyescuttoAiden.“Iwassurprisedyouwerebothhere.Don’tyouworkoutinthemornings?”
“Oh.”Aidenshrugsnonchalantly.“Noteveryday.”
God.Wearenotgoodatsubtle.
Ipadoverthekitchentilestothefridge,openingituptograbawaterbottle.“Didyouwantanything,Iris?”
“No,thankyou,”shecalls.“Actually…Ijustcametoseeyou.”
Ipausebythefridge.“Me?”
“Yeah.”Shealmostlooksembarrassed.“Ijustrememberedustalkingtheotherdayinthecar…aboutthosephotos?”
“Oh!”Ishutthedoortothefridgehastily.“Right!TheonesofyouandSophieandhermom?”
“Right…”Shereachesintoherpurse,riflingaroundforamomentbeforepullingoutathickphotoenvelope.“Iwentaheadandorderedsomeprintsofabunchofrandomphotosonmyphone.”SheholdsitawkwardlyforamomentasImakemywaytothelivingroombeforefinallyturningslightlytoofferittoAiden.“Andyou,too,Iguess.Idon’tknow.Youmightnothavewantedthismany.”
“No,thiswassosweet,”Igush,reachingtosnatchtheenvelopefromAiden,whostilllooksalittlestunned.Iopentheflapandammetwithamuchsmaller,muchtoothierSophie,hercheeksroundasabeautifulwomanhugsherfrombehind.“OhmyGod.LookatbabySophie.Shewassuchalittledoll.”Ipause,noticingIriswatchingme.“Rebeccawasbeautiful.”
“Shewas,”Irisagrees.
“Oh,shit,sorry.”IhandtheenvelopebacktoAiden,rememberingmyself.
Hetakesitgingerly,stilllookingalittleoutofsorts.“Thiswas…reallyniceofyou,Iris.”
“Icanbenice,”shesaystersely.Herlipspresstogetherbeforesheadds,“Sometimes.”
Aidenactuallylaughs,shakinghishead.“Yeah,Iguessso.”
“Seriously,thankyouforbringingthem,”Isay.
Irisshrugs.“Ihadtime,andIwasintheneighborhood.It’snobigdeal.”
“Right,”Isaywithasmile.“Well,I’msureSophieisgoingtolovegoingthroughthese.”
Iris’seyessoften,herlipsturningupeversoslightly.“Ihopeso.”
“Youknow,youcould—”
I’minterruptedbythetrillingofacellphone,andittakesAidenseveralsecondstorecognizethatit’shis.“Oh.Sorry.”Hepushesupfromthechair,movingintothekitchentograbitfromthecounter,wherehemusthavetosseditearlier.Hefrownsatthescreenbeforecastingusanapologeticlook.“It’swork.I’lltakethisintheotherroom.”
Inodbackathimbeforehedisappearsdownthehall,presumablytowardthelaundryroom,almostforgettingmytrainofthoughtbeforemyeyesfallontheenvelopeofphotosAidenleftinhischair.Imoveacrossthelivingroomtosettleintoit,pickinguptheenvelopeandlookingbackinsidetothumbthroughthepictures.
“Anyway,”Itryagain.“Iwasgoingtosaythatyoucouldcomebackafterschool.WhenSophieishome.”Ipeekuptogaugeherexpression.“Ifyouwanted.”
IwonderiftherewilleverbeatimethatIrisisn’ttakenbysurprisebymetryingtoincludeher.“Really?”
“Aidenwillbeatwork,soweusuallyeatsomethingsimplefordinner,butyou’rewelcometojoinus.Wecouldgothroughthepictures?I’msureSophiewouldlovehavingyoutheretotellherabouttheonesshewastooyoungtoremember.”
“Thatwouldbe…”Shetrailsoff,hereyessearchingmyfaceinadazebeforesheswallows.“Thatwouldbegreat,actually.”
“Good.”Iflashherasmile.“SophieandIusuallygetbackaroundfour…anddinnerisusuallybetweenfiveandsix…so,justwheneveryouwanttostopby.”
“Thatsoundsgreat,”shesaysagain,stilllookinglikeshe’sprocessing.
Inod.“Terrific.”
There’samomentwherewebothjustsitinsilence—meholdingtheenvelopeandIrislookingatmelikeshe’stryingtofiguresomethingout,butafteraminute,maybe,sheshakesherheadasifclearingit,makingamovetostand.“I’dbettergettowork,”shesayshastily.Hervoiceisthickerthanitwasamomentago.“Icanprobablybeherearoundsix,though,ifthat’sokay.”
“That’sperfect,”Itellher.“Sophiewillbesoexcited.”
Irislooksupatmeaftergatheringupherbag,asmall,cautioussmileathermouth.“Iamtoo.”
“Perfect.”IrealizeI’mjustgrinninglikeanidiot,andIshootupfromthechair.“Oh,letmewalkyouout.”
“No,it’sfine.”Iriswavesmeoff.“Iknowwherethedooris.”Sheshufflesherweightfromonefoottotheother.“ButI’ll…seeyouguyslater.”
Mytinyvictoriesfeellikethey’repilingoneontopoftheothertomakeforonelargeone,butItellmyselfit’stoosoontobegettingexcited.Irisislikeadoe.Youhavetobecarefulwithher.
Shegivesmeahastygoodbyebeforerushingdownthestairs,andIdon’tsettlebackintothearmchairtostartflippingthroughthepicturesuntilIhearthedoorshutbehindher.Idon’tevenrealizeforabitthatI’mstillgrinning.
“DidIrisleave?”
IturntoseeAidencomingbackintotheroom,andInod.“Justnow.”Ijutmychinoutsmugly.“Butshe’scomingbackfordinnertohangout.”
“Seriously?”Aidenscoffsasheshakeshishead.“HowinthehelldidyoumakebestfriendswithIrisinlikeamonthwhenwe’vebeenbuttingheadsforayear?”
“I’mtoldI’mverycharming.”
Hislipstwitch.“Areyou?”
“HowelsewouldIensnareaprofessionalcook?”
Hebreaksintoafullgrin,rollinghiseyes.“Hopefullythisisn’tsomesortoflongcon.ImightwakeupwithoutakidneyandfindoutCassieisn’tevenyourrealname.”
It’sajoke,andIknowthat,butapparentlythat’sallittakesforeverythingtocomecrashingback.Inalltheexcitement,I’dcompletelyletmyselfpushasideallmyworriesfromthismorning,letmyselfgetwrappedupinAiden’stouchyetagainwithoutcomingclean.
Andnowwe’realoneagain,andI’moutofexcuses.
Ifhenoticestheshiftinmymood,hedoesn’timmediatelysay,pullinghisphonefromhispocketandcheckingthetimeasmysmilefalters.
“Bytheway,Aiden,Iwantedto—”
“Shit,”hemutters.“I’dbetterhurry.”
Iblink.“What?”
“Thatwasworkthatcalled,”hesighs.“Somesortofoven-relateddisasterhappenedduringprep.Ihavetogoseewhatthedamageis.”
“Oh…boo.”
Trytosoundmoredisappointed.Don’tmakeitsoobviousthatyou’rerelieved.
“Iknow.”Heshufflesovertoleandown,brushingmyhairawayfrommyfacebeforepressinghislipstomyforehead.“I’mstartingtoregretmycareerpath.”
“Butyoulovebeingacook,”Isayseriously.
Thisonlymakeshimsmilewider.“Oneofthesedays,I’mgoingtomakeyouregretalltheteasing.”
“Sayless,”Ilaugh.
It’sstillthere,thatworryinmystomachthatcomeswithknowingthatIshouldbespillingmygutsrightnow,butIassuagemyguiltwiththereasoningthatitwouldbeabadideatobroachthisconversationwhenhe’sgotonefootoutthedoor.Somethinglikethiswilltakemoretimetohammerout,Itellmyself.It’sbettertowait.
Althoughifthisisforhisbenefitormine,Ican’tbesure.
“Oh.Whatwereyougoingtosay?”
“Nothing,”Isayafterabeat,tryingnottosoundlikeI’mnotsinkingbackdownintoaninfinitypoolofanxiety.“Iwasjustwonderingwhenyoumightbehometonight.”
“Hopefullynottoolate.”Heduckslower,hislipshoveringnearminejustbeforehekissesme.“Knowingyou’rewaitingupformewillmakethenightmorebearable.”
Itwouldn’t,Ithink.NotifyouknewthebombI’mgoingtodroponyou.
“I’llbehere,”Imurmurback.
Anotherquickpeckatmymouth,likehecan’thelphimself.“I’mgoingtochange.”
“Okay.”
Idon’texhaleuntilIhearhisfootstepsfadingupthestairs,leftwithameltingpotofemotionsthatareequalpartsourpresentandourpastandeverythinginbetween.I’mrealizingnowthatthemoretimeIwaittotellAideneverythingonlymeansmoretimewrestlingwiththeanxietythatcomeswithit,knowingIhavehoursaheadoffeelingthiswaybeforeIfindoutwhetherornotAidenwillhearmeoutorkickmeoutofthehouseoncehelearnswhatIhavetosay.AndnowI’veaddedanextendedvisitwiththeauntwhoisonlyjuststartingtowarmuptome,realizingIwillhavetobottleallofthisupuntilshe’sgone.
Isinkdownintothechairwithasigh.
It’snoteventeninthemorning,andIcouldalreadyuseadrink.Chatwith@alacarte
Well,ifyouwanttohearsomethingREALLYcrazy…sometimesIgetjealousofeveryoneelsewatchingyou.
Doyouthinkthat’sweirderthanmegettingexcitedeverytimeit’sjustyouandme?
Imaybebiased,butIdon’tthinkthat’sweirdatall.
Didyouknowyou’retheonlypersonI’veevershownmyscarto?Doesthatmakeyoufeelanybetter?
It’sastart.Beingtheonlyonetoeverseeyounakedwouldbeanother.
CHAPTER19Cassie
PretendingthatIwasA-OKwithSophieandIristhiseveninghadbeenarealstruggle.SophiethankfullyhadabondingexperiencetodaywithagirlwhowasinterestedinSophie’sDisneybirthdaytrip,sogoingovereveryfacetofthatconversationhadbeenSophie’smainfocusformostoftheevening.Iwasgenuinelyhappytohearaboutherpotentiallymakingafriend,andifIhadn’tbeensonervousaboutwhatIhadtodowhenherdadgetshome,Imighthaveevensuggestedtakingherouttocelebrate.Thentherewerethepictures,andsinceIrishadbeentheonerecountingallthememoriesthatwereattachedtoeachphoto,IwasabletomostlyjustsitnearbyandlistentoIrisrememberitall.
Ithadbeenagoodnight,outsideofmyinnerturmoil.It’sonethatIcouldseemyselfmakingmoreofathing,havingIrisover.
Well,ifIevengettoafterthis.Itcouldbemylastnighthere,forallIknow.
Don’tthinklikethat.There’sstillachancethiswillworkout.
I’vebeendoingassignmentstokeepmyselfpreoccupiedeversinceSophiewenttobed,realizingafterIloggedintotheportalthatI’veletmyselfgetalotmorebehindthanImeanttothislastweek.AndasifIhaven’texperiencedenoughstresstoday,Ievenmissedadeadlineentirely,meaningthatInowhavemyfirstfailinggrade.Iknowthatonefailedassignmentisn’tgoingtogetmekickedoutoftheprogramoranything,butitsuredoesn’thelpmycurrentmood.
Ididgetthatdrink;IhadtowaitforSophietocompletelypassouttogetit,buttheverylargeglassofwinefromthebottlethatIcan’tpronounce,whichtasteslikeitisworthmorethanIgetpaidinaweek,helpstaketheedgeoff.IpilfereditfromAiden’swinefridge,soifthisnightgoessouth,itmightbeanothernailinmycoffin.Doesn’tstopmefromdrinkingitthough.
Forthelasthour,I’vebeenwatchingthefrontdoorfromthesetteebythestairs,whereI’mloungingwithmylaptop,everycarpassingbyoutsidemakingmeperkupasIwonderwhenAidenwillgethome.
I’mwearingthesamepinkshirtthathasgottenusintotroubleafewtimes;it’sprobablycheatingtotrytoarousememoriesof,well,arousalatatimelikethis—butIfigureworkingwhateverangleIcaninmyfavorcan’thurt.LikeAidenwillsomehowbesodistractedbymytitsthathewillforgetthatI’vebeenlyingtohimforweeks.
Notlying,mybraincorrects.It’sjustanomission.
Becausethat’sahugedifference.
Itakeanotherslowsipofwine,lettingitswishinmymouthforasecondbeforeIswallowit.It’sdryandalittlebitter,butthetasteofithelpskeepmeawake.Thescreenofmylaptopisstartingtoblurasmyeyesburnwithfatigue,andIreachtorubthemwithmyfingersasIstifleayawn.You’dthinkwithalltheanxietyI’dbewideawake,butitseemstobehavingtheoppositeeffect.I’vebeensoupanddownwithworrytodaythatmybodyseemstoberevolting.IwouldguessthatallthelatenightsI’vespentwithAidenrecentlyhaven’texactlyhelpedthesituation,either,butIcan’tfinditinmetocomplainaboutthat.
IshutmylaptopandputitbesidemebeforeIreachtosetmyglassonthelittlesidetablenearby.Istretchmyarmsabovemyheadafterward,myneckcrackingasIturnitthiswayandthat.Myphoneputsthetimeatjustaftereleven,andIknowthatAidencouldwalkthroughthedooratanymoment.
God,maybeIshouldhavecalledWanda.
Shewouldhaveprobablyknowntheperfectthingtosay.That,orshewouldhavejusttoldmetotakeoffmyshirtasmoreofadistraction.Itcouldhavegoneeitherway.She’dprobablybeproudofmeforwearingthethinnestbraIowntonight.Meontheotherhand…Yeah.Stillfeelslikecheating.
IsighasIreachformywineglassagain,holdingitnearmymouthasIstareattherailingthatlinesthestairs,gettinglostinmyownthoughtsandcontemplatingtheworstpossibleoutcome.I’vealwaysbeenofthemindthatifyouexpectdisappointmentyoucanneverbedisappointed,somaybethat’swhyI’mplayingoutinmyheadwhattheworstendinglookslike.
Worsecomestoworst,Aidentellsmehedoesn’tfeelcomfortablekeepingmeonasthenanny,letaloneashis…whateverIamtohim.(HowpatheticisitthatI’mjustnowrealizingwehaven’tevendefinedwhatthehellweare.)Worsecomestoworst—AidenwilltellmethatIwillneedtopackupmythingstomorrow,he’llcutmeaniceseverancecheck(heseemsthetype),andthenhewillescortmeoutofhishouseandoutofhislife.Forthesecondtime.
Don’tbedramatic.Hedidn’tevenknowyournamethen.
IshakemyheadasIbringtheglasstomylipsagain,closingmyeyesasItipitbacktotrytodownthelastlittlebitofredliquid.Now,I’mnotactuallydrunk;I’mhardlyeventipsy—soIcan’tsaywhyIwouldchoosethismomenttobeclumsy.Maybeit’sthenerves,ormaybeit’sjustthesoul-crushingstressI’vebeenundertheselastcoupleofdays…Idon’tknow.Regardless,myglasschoosesthismomenttomissmymouth,thelastofthewinedribblingovermybottomlipandspillingalldownthefrontofmyshirt.
“Shit.”
Thedamageisdone;apparentlytherewasalotmorewineleftintheglassthanIrealized.(WhydidIhavetochoosethelargestoneinthecabinet?)Myshirtissoakedthroughfromtitstonavel,andwhenIstandupquicklytoavoidgettinganyonthesettee,IrealizethatI’mdrippingalloverthetile.
“Great,”Imutter,turningtosetmyglassbackonthesidetable.“Perfect.”
IhavemyshirtovermyheadbeforeIcansecond-guessit,anditisn’tuntilI’mdownonmykneesmoppingupthebitofwinethat’sdrippedonthefloorthatthefullhilarityofthissituationhitsme.Wasn’tthisexactlyhowI’dfoundAidenthatnightI’dwaitedupforhim?He’dcalleditstupidthen.Whatadamnedpairwemake.
I’mswirlingthesoddenclothonthetileevenasmybreastsandbellyarestilldampwithlingeringdropsofwine,cursingmyluckasIcleanupmymesssoIcanhurryandchangebeforeAidengetshome.
ButmyluckwithmeetingAideninanycapacityhasproventobemostlyshittyinthepast,andthisisnoexception.Hearingthekeysinthedooratthatmomentleavesmetoostunnedtomove,leftfrozenonmyhandsandkneeswithanopenmouthandawine-stainedshirtinmygrip.Hestepsthroughjustlikehealwaysdoes,hanginghiskeysonthehookandslippingoffhisshoesatthedoor,andittakeshimasecondtonoticemethere,gawkingbackathim.
“Cassie?”
Isuddenlyforgethowtospeak,stillstaringathim.Thecoldaironmybackfeelslikeascarythingnow.
Hetakesastepcloser.“Whathappened?”
“Ispilledmywine,”Imanage,pushingupsothatI’mrestingonmykneestokeepmybackhiddenfromhim.“Soakedmyshirt.”
“Wow,”helaughs.“Andyourfirstinstinctwastotearitoff?Ithinkyou’vebeenspendingtoomuchtimewithme.”
ThecloserhegetsthemorepanickedIfeel,andIscrambletoastandingpositionasfastasIcanasheclosesthedistancebetweenus.He’sstillsmilingatmeasherunsafingeroverthedampskinofmybreasts,andmyvoiceislodgedinmythroatasIthinkaboutnothingbutescaping.
Thisisn’thowIwantedtotellhim.
“Ishouldgogetanothershirt,”Itry,sidesteppingawayfromhim.
Aiden’sarmsencircleme,pullingmeagainsthim.“JustsoIcantakeitoffofyouagain?”
“Oh,I—”
Myheartisrattlingaroundinmyribs,soloudIfindmyselfwonderingifhecanhearit.It’sthefirsttimeI’veeverbeenshirtlesswithhimthatIwasn’tonmybackorontopofhim—intotalcontrol.SomethingIdon’tfeellikeIamrightnow.Incontrol.Hisfingersareslidingupmyspinetoclimbhigher,andwitheveryinchIfindithardertobreathe.
“Aiden,Ineedtotalktoyou.”
Hehumssoftly,bendingtolethislipsskirtalongmyjaw.“About?”
“There’sjust”—hemakesithardtothinkwhenhekissesmynecklikethat—“somethingI’vebeenmeaningtotellyou.”
Hishandsaresoclosenow,andIknowanysecondhe’sgoingtofeelit,andthenIwon’thaveachancetoeasehimintothislikeI’dplanned.Ibringmyhandsbetweenustopressagainsthischestgently,warringbetweenwantingtobringhimcloserandknowingIshouldpushhimaway.
“Aiden,I—”
Fuck.
Icanfeelit,whenhegoesstill.It’scuriousatfirst,histouch—hisfingertipstracingtheedgeofmyscarlikehehasn’tquitefiguredoutwhatitis.Ifeelhishandflattenagainsttheentireshapeofit,nodoubtfeelingthedifferenceintexturebetweenmyscarandtherestofmyskin.
“Cassie,what’s—?”
Idopushawayfromhimthen,lookingdownatmyfeetsinceI’mhavingahardtimelookingathim.Iknowthiscouldbeit,thatafterthishemightneversmileatmeagain,andwhydoesthatfeelsodevastatingallofasudden?We’veonlyknowneachotherforashortwhile,onlygivenintotheseurgesforonlyafewweeks—sowhydoesitfeellikethiscouldbetheendofsomethingimportant?
“IshouldhavetoldyouassoonasIrealized,”Imutterquietlyatthefloor.“Ididn’t—atfirstIdidn’tknowhow,andIwasafraidtolosemyjob,andIknowthatIshouldhavesaidsomethingafterwehadsex,butIjust…It’sawful,Iknow,butIwasjustsoafraidyou’ddisappearagain,anditjustfeltsoshittythefirsttime,andIrealizethisallsoundspathetic,but—”
“Hey.”
Ifinallylookathimthen,feelinghishandsatmyshouldersashebringshisfacelevelwithmine.
“Cassie,whatareyoutalkingabout?”
There’sgenuineconfusioninhiseyesthatblendswithactualconcern,likehehasnoideawhatI’mtalkingabout.Andwhywouldhe?I’mbarelymakinganysense.IcanfeelmyeyesgrowingwetasIfeelgenuinefearforwhateverisabouttohappen,butItakeadeepbreath,knowingit’sstilltherightthingtodo.
Iturnslowly,tryingtokeepmybackstraightsoIdon’tlookaspitifulasIfeel,staringatthewallofthealcovebythestairsasIwaitforhimtosaysomething.Ittakesseconds,ormaybehours,Ican’tbesure,butthenIfeelhishandsatmyskin,tracingagain.Maybehe’stryingtoplaceit.Maybehedoesn’tevenrememberit,andrightnowthatalmostfeelslikeitmightbeworse.Beingsuchabliponhisradarthathedoesn’tevenremember.
Hisvoiceisimpossiblysoftwhenhefinallysayssomething.“Youweremakingdinner.”
Heremembers.Ishouldn’tbeexcitedthatheremembers.
“BecauseIwashomealone,”Iwhisperback.
“Andyouaccidentallypulledthepotofboilingwaterontoyourself.”
IcanbarelyhearmyselfwhenIanswer,“Icouldn’tgetoutofthewayintime.Icaughtitwithmyback.”
“I…”
I’mshivering,butIdon’tthinkit’stheair-conditioning.
“Cassie,areyou—?”
Icanonlynod.
He’squietagainafterthat,impossiblyquiet.Iwanttolookathim,butI’mtooafraidto.I’mtooscaredtofindoutwhatlookhe’llbewearingwhenIdo.Disappointment?Anger?Idon’tknowwhichwouldbeworse.
“Howlonghaveyouknown?”
Iswallow.“SinceIsawyourscar.”
“So,theentiretimethatwe’vebeen…”
Inodagain.
“Jesus,Cassie.Howcouldyounottellme?”
Ishutmyeyestight.Hedefinitelysoundsangry.“Iwasafraid.”
“Afraidofwhat?”
“It’sjust…youdisappearedsosuddenlybackthen,andIthought—God.IguessIwasnaive.Ithoughtyouactuallylikedme,andthatyouactuallywantedtomeetup.Sowhenyouwerejust…gone,Ijust—”Iblowoutashakybreath.“Ididn’twanttohavetogothroughthatagain.EspeciallynowthatI…knowyou.Itwouldbesomuchshittiernow.”
“Wereyouevergoingtotellme?”
Myeyesflyopen,andIcan’thelpitthen,turningtofacehimsothathecanhopefullyseethesincerityinmyface.“Yes!Iwasgoingtotellyoutonight.Iwasgoingtotellyoutoday,actually,butthenyou…um,distractedme,andtherewasallofthatshitwithIris,andyouhadtogotowork,andIjustthoughtweneededtohaveanactualconversationaboutit,and—”
Igoquiet,finallynoticinghisexpression.It’sangry,tobesure,andconfused,sure,butInoticethatthereisnoneoftheemotionIhadbeenmostafraidtosee.
Disappointment.
Aidendoesn’tlookdisgusted,orputout;sure,helookslikehe’smadthatIlethiminmybedsomanytimeswithouttellinghimthetruth,butsomehowitdoesn’tfeelasdireasIthoughtitwouldbe.
“I’msorry,”Isayquietly.“Ishouldhavetoldyousooner.”
Hiseyesarestillhard.“Yes.Youshouldhave.Istillcan’tbelieveyoudidn’t.”
“Iknow.”Ilookdownatmyfeetagain.I’mstillhalf-nakedandcoveredinfuckingwine.Thiscouldn’tgetanyworse.“Iknow.I’msorry.”
I’mstillstaringatmytoeswhileIwaitforhimtosaysomething,feelingmypulsepoundinginmyearsasIwaitandseewhetherAidenwillchoosetotrytotalkthisoutwithme,orifhe’llaskmetoleave.I’mnotashamedofmypast,andIwon’tletsomeonemakemefeellikeIneedtobe,notevenAiden—butdamnifitwon’thurtifheturnsoutnottobewhoIthoughthewasbytryingtomakemefeelthatway.Thenagain,Ididkeepthingsfromhim,somaybehewouldbejustified?Idon’tknow.It’smakingmyheadhurt,andatthispoint,Iwishhe’djustgetitoverwith.
Whatever“it”is.Chatwith@lovecici
YouhavenofuckingideawhatIwoulddotoyouifIcouldactuallytouchyou.
Ihaveanidea.
Doyou?DoyouhaveanideaabouthowIwouldusethatprettylittlepussyofyours?
Fuck,A.
Whatelse?
CHAPTER20Aiden
I’mtoostunnedtosayanything.OfallthethingsIcouldhaveimaginedcominghometo,thiswasn’tevenintheimmediatevicinityofpossibilities.
Iknowthatshe’swaitingformetoopenmymouthandsaysomething—staringdownatthefloorwithresigneddefeatasifshe’salreadymadeuphermindthatI’mgoingtopushherawayoverthis.Ican’tpretendthatIamnotangrythatshekeptitfromme,butprobablynotforthereasonsshemightthink.Ijusthatetheideaofherputtingherselfthroughhellwithworrywhenshecouldhavebeenhonestwithme.Ievenunderstand,Ithink,allthereasonswhyshedidn’t.Afterwonderingwhereshewentforsolong,evennow,wouldIhavealsobeenhesitanttochanceherdisappearingagain?
Ithoughtyouactuallylikedme,andthatyouactuallywantedtomeetup.
That’sthepartthat’sstickingouttome.AllthistimeIassumedthatitwasmewhohadmisunderstoodthings.Hasshespentallthistimethinkingthesamething?
Ididn’twanttohavetogothroughthatagain.EspeciallynowthatI…knowyou.
HadshefeltasdisappointedwhenIpulledawayasIhadbeenwhenIthoughtshe’ddonethesame?
“Cassie,I…”Ifeelabitcalmernowbutnolessdumbfounded.“Ididlikeyou.Ididwanttomeetup.”
Shefinallylooksatme,andIhatethathereyesarewetbecauseofme.“What?”
“Ididn’tmeantodisappear,”Iexplain.“Whenithappened…IhadjustfoundoutthatRebeccadied.Thatmonthwasinsane.IwasworryingforSophie,andmakingarrangements,andtryingtofigureouthowtorestructuremyentirelife.BythetimeIwasabletopullmyheadoutofthewaterandbreatheagain,weekshadpassedbywithoutmerealizingit.AndwhenIcamebacktoapologize…”
“I’ddeletedmyaccount,”shewhispers.
Inodsolemnly.“IthoughtthatIwastheonewhomisunderstood.”
Iwatchhermouthpartwithsurprise,allthepiecesclickingtogether,andIrealizenoneofthishadoccurredtoherbeforethismoment.Thatshe’sactuallyspentthebetterpartofayearthinkingthataftereverythingwesaid,ithadallbeentransactionalafterall.ThatInevercaredaboutherlikeImadeherbelieve.She’dbeensoafraid,thatevennow,evenafterIcan’tseemtogoadaywithouttouchingherorwithoutbeingclosetoher—I’dtossheraside.
Ican’thelpit;it’sthequestionthat’sbeenonmymindeversinceIloggedbackintofindheraccountscrubbed.“Wheredidyougo?”
“I…”
Iwatchherteethworryatherlipashercheeksredden.Hereyesdartawaylikeshe’sembarrassed.
“Icouldn’tdoitanymore.Afteryoudisappeared.Iknowit’sprobablysilly,but…Imissedyou,andIthoughtthatyouhaddroppedoffthefaceoftheearth,andIjust…”Shesucksinabreath,hereyesstillwet.“Icouldn’tdoitanymore.”
Itallfeelssurreal.LikeanymomentI’llwakeupinmybedandnoneofthiswillhavehappened.Howisitevenpossiblethatoutofallthepeopleinthiscitywhocouldhaveansweredmyaditwasher?ThattheonepersonthatSophieneededmost,couldalsobetheonepersonthatIneededmost,withoutevenhavingrealizedit?
“Iunderstandifyouneedmetoleave,”Cassiesaysstoically,herliptrembling.“ButIdidn’tmeantokeepitfromyoulikethis.Ijust…didn’tknowhowtotellyou.”
Maybeaskinghertoleaveisthesensiblecourseofaction.Maybeamorerationalmanwouldscoldmefornotevenconsideringthethought.Butregardlessofourstrangepastandourstrangerpresentandeverythinginbetween,thethoughtthatbothersmemostisCassiewalkingoutmydoorandnevercomingback.Itprobablydoesn’tmakesenseformetofeelthatway;weknownothingabouteachotherthatcouldwarrantmefeelingsopossessiveofher,likeIcan’tlethergo,but…
Itdoesn’tstopmefromfeelingthatway.
“Idon’t,”Itellherfinally,myvoicethick.“Wantyoutoleave.”
Hereyesarewidewhentheyfindmineagain.“You’renotmad?”
“No,Iam,”Iassert,andwhenshestartstolookcrestfallenagain,Iadd,“butnotbecauseyoukeptthisasecret.”
“What?”
“I’mangrythatyoudealtwiththisalone.I’mangrythatyouspentallthistimeworryingthatIwouldpushyouawaywithoutgivingmethechancetotellyouthatthereisabsolutelynowayI’mlettingyougetawayagain.”
Herbreathcatches,andshelookssosweetinthismoment;herhairisfallingdownfromhermessybuninpiecesaroundherface,hermouthispartedinasoft,quietwaythatbegsformetokissher,andhereyes—hereyesholdsomuchreliefthatitmakessomethinginmychesthurt.
I’mcarefulwhenIreachforher,approachingherlikeafrightenedanimalthatmightrun,andforallintentsandpurposes,shecouldstilldothat.Inoticeshe’sstilltremblingslightlywhenmyhandscupherjaw,herlashesflutteringclosedasherfingerswraparoundmywrist.Maybeit’simprudentofmetobeaselatedasIamtoknowthatit’sher—thatthepersonIfindmyselflosingallmysensesfortodayisthesamepersonwhodrovemecrazybackthen.HereyesareclosedwhenIleanin,andIcanfeelthatslightwetnessatherlashesagainstmycheekwhenmylipstouchhers.
Shetastessweet.LikewineandsomethingthatisinherentlyCassie,andIfindmyselfpullingherclosertotrytotastemore,somethingthatisbecomingahabitwheneverItouchher.LikenomatterhowmuchIhaveofher,it’ssomehowneverenough.
Ifeelherfingerssneakingundermyshirt,findingtheraisedskinnearmynavelassheteasesatmyscar.Itmakesmeshiver,hertouchpairedwiththeknowledgeofeverythingattachedtothesemarksonourbodies—therealizationofallI’vesaidtoherandallI’veseenofhercrashingdownonmelikeawave.HowmanytimesdidIwishIcouldtouchherlikethis?HowmanytimesdidIwishIcouldfindoutifherlipswereassoftastheylooked?
Howisitpossiblethatafterallthistime,Iwouldfindtheanswertoallthosequestionsinsuchanunexpectedway?
Ishouldtakehertoherroom,Iknowthat,butIcan’tseemtostoptouchingherlongenoughtodothat.AlmostasifIgiveheraninchshemightsliprightthroughmyfingers.Ipushherdeeperintothealcovebehindthestairs,myhandsatherwaistandherhipsandeverywhereelseIcanreachashertonguetouchesminesendingmeintoabitofafrenzy.
IdipmyheadtorestmylipsagainsthershoulderasIurgehertoturn,andthereisonlyahintofhesitationassheobliges,givingmeherbackasherhandsbraceagainstthewall.Iletmymouthwander,teasingtheraisedskinbetweenhershoulderbladesinawaythatIhaven’thadachancetodoyet.Ifeelhershiverasmytonguetracestheshapeofherscar,herspinecurvingtobendintotheinsistentpressofmymouthevenasmyfingersfindthesnapsofherbratopopthemopen.Herbackbeingbareonlymakesiteasiertoexplore,andifIdidn’tfeelsorestlessrightnow,itmightevenbesomethingIcouldspendallnightdoing.ItellmyselfI’llhavetimelater.
ShelooksbreathlesswhenIturnhertofacemeagain,helpingmewhenIurgeherbraofftoletitdroptothefloor.Herbreathisheavy,andforasecondIammesmerizedbytheriseandfallofherbreastsasifbeggingmetotouchthem.IholdhergazewhenIbenddowntoslidemylipsagainsttheswell,closingmyeyesandfocusingonthethumpingofherpulseagainstmymouth.
“Yourheartisbeatingsofast.”
Shebitesherlip,pushingherfingersthroughmyhairtosweepitawayfrommyforehead.“Didyouknowthatonaverage,women’sheartsbeatfasterthanmen’s?”
“Oh?”MylipscurveagainstherbreastasIleaveanotherkissthere,messierthistimesoIcantasteher.“Snapplejusthasn’teverheardminewhenI’mtouchingyou.”
ShegaspswhenIwrapmymoutharoundhernipple,andI’mentrancedbythewayherlipsrolltogether—thewayshelooksatmethroughhoodedeyes.I’mwonderingiftherehadbeensignsIshouldhavepickedupon;howmanytimesdidIwatchhercomefromthesafetyofmymonitor?ItfeelslikeIsawherineverywaypossible,allthosenights,butsomethingaboutthetimewe’vespenttogetherfeelsdifferentthanitdidbackthen,andIcan’thelpbutwonderifit’sbecauseit’smetouchingher,ratherthanherself.I’dliketodeludemyselfintothinkingso.
Herskintastessweet,too,thelingeringflavorofthewineshespilledcoatingmytongueasIletitswirlaroundonetautpeak.ItweaktheotherbetweenmyfingersasIletonehandslidedownherbelly,dippingpasthershortstotuckinsideherunderwearsoIcanseehowwetsheis.
Fuck,she’salreadysoaked.
“Isitweird?”
Ireleaseherwithawetpop,tiltingmyheaduptoseehermoreclearly.“What?”
“Idon’tknow…witheverythingthathappened…”Sheletsoutanervouslaugh.“Imean,there’s…alotofstuffyouaskedmetodo.”
MylipstiltasIpressmyfingersdeeperbetweenherlegs,curlingthemtoletthemslipinsideherashermouthformsaquietO.“IremembereverythingIeveraskedyoutodo,Cassie.”
“Mm.”Herhipscanttowardmyhandashereyesshut.“Ilikedit.”
“YoulikeditwhenItoldyouwhattodo?”
Shenodslazily.“Mm-hmm.”
“Icandothat,”Irumble.“Whydon’tyoustartwithtakingtheseoff?”
Iletmyfingersslipoutofhertogripthefrontofhershorts,givingthematug.WhenIpullmyhandoutentirely,risingtomyfullheighttoseeifshe’llobey,Ifeelafamiliarthrillcoursingthroughme.IthadbeenonethingtowatchfromtheothersideofascreenasshedidwhateverIaskedherto,butthisisdifferent.Thisisn’tsomefacelesswomanthatI’mharboringsomeill-advisedcrushon,thisisCassie—warm,soft,real.Awomanthatinvadesmythoughtsmoreandmorewitheverypassingday.
Iwatchasshereachestorollhershortsdownherthighs,herunderweargoingrightalongwiththemuntilshekicksthemofftoletthemlandonthetile.It’sdarkerhereinthislittlecorner,thelightoverthefrontdoornotenoughtoilluminateherentirely,butIcanmakeouteverysoftswellandgentlecurve,fromthefullnessofherbreaststotheslightslopeofherbellyandtheroundnessofherhipsthatmakemypalmstwitchwithaneedtotouch.Therosycolorofherlipsmatchthetightpointsofhernipples,andIknowfromexperiencethatbothcomplementtheprettypinkbetweenherlegs.
EverythingaboutCassieseemstobedesignedtodrivemecrazy.
“Ican’tbelievethatIspentallthattimewondering”—myknucklesbrushoverthetopsofherthighsassheshudders,andIslidemyfingersbetweenthem,curvingmyhandanddraggingithigher—“whatitwouldbeliketotouchyou.”Herlipspartinaquietgaspwhenmyfingersslidebackandforthbetweenherwetfolds,andIcanfeelmycockpressinginsistentlyagainstmyzipper.“Ihadnoideahowmuchbettertherealthingwouldbe.”
“Aiden,”shesighs,herslimfingersteasingthefrontofmyjeans.“Taketheseoff.”
“Here?”Ipushdeeper,feelingherclencharoundmyfingers.“Youwantmetofuckyououthere?”
Herfingertuckintomywaistband,tugginginsistently.“Aiden.”
Itfeelslikewe’reinadifferentmomentintime,onewhereshe’swaitingonmetogiveheracue,liketheonlythingthatmattersiswhateverI’mabouttoaskofher.Itmakesmefeelheadyandalittleoutofmymind.
Shesqueezesmethroughthedenim,andIhissthroughmyteeth.“Fuck.”
“Ilikeitwhenyouswear,”shesayswithabreathylaugh.
“Youdo?”
Shenods.
“Really.”Ikeeppumpingmyfingersinandoutofher,bracingmyotherhandbyherheadasIwatchhertouchme.“Doyouwantmycock,Cassie?”
There’sanoticeableshiverthatpassesthroughher,andshebarelymanageshershakynod.
Itiltmyhipsfurtherintoherhand.“Well.”
Shebitesherlipassheunzipsme,reachingwithbothhandstoruckdownmypantsbeforesheteasestheshapeofmethroughmyboxerbriefs.Ihavetoclosemyeyeswhenshepullsmeout,herhandswarmandsoftasshedragsherfistfrombasetotip.Shepushesuponhertoestoletherlipsbrushagainstmine,strokingmeinaslowback-and-forththat’sdrivingmewild.
“Tellmewhatyouwantmetodo,”shemurmursintomymouth.“YouknowI’lldowhateveryouwant.”
She’sslippingintothepastwithmenow,whisperingthingsIhaven’theardsinceshe’dsaidtheminadarkroomwithherfacehidden.Justhearingthemisnearlyenoughtomakemecomealloverherhand,butthat’snotwhatIwant.
“Putyourarmsaroundmyneck,”Iurge.Iregretthelossofherhandonmycockwhensheimmediatelyobeys,butIknowthatinsideherwillfeelthatmuchbetter.“Holdontome.”
ShedoeswhatIask,andIslipmyhandfrombetweenherthighstograbherhips,hoistingherupagainstmeandpressinghertothewallasshewrapsherlegsaroundmywaist.We’recloseenoughthatmycockslotsbetweenherlegs,coatingmeinherslickheatasItiltmyhipsjustenoughtofeelher.Ipinherthereagainstthewallandwhisperthatsheholdontight,reachingtowardmybacktopullmyT-shirtupandoffbeforeIdropittothefloor.Herarmsareimmediatelybacktoholdontomyneck,andittakeshardlyanythingatalltoanglemyselfenoughtoslipinsideher.
Shemakesasound,somethingbetweenawhimperandamoan,andIleanclosertoletmylipswhisperatherear,“Shh.”IadjusthersothatIcanpushdeeper.“Youhavetobequiet,remember?Begood.”
“Yes—oh.”Herheelsdigintomyass,herfingerspushingintomyhair.“Ipromise.”She’swhisperingnowasiftoproveherpoint.“Keepgoing.”
Itonlytakesaslightbitofmovementtorootallthewayinsideher,herhipsflushwithmineasshetrembleswithit.IhavetotakeamomenttocollectmyselfsothatIdon’timmediatelycomeinsideher—it’salwaysadanger,asgoodasshefeels—lettingmyforeheaddroptohershoulderasIsteadyherwithmyhandsonherhips.
“Youwouldn’tbelievehowmuchIthoughtaboutthis,”Ihuff.“Iwantedtotouchyousobad,Cassie.Then…now…fuckingalways.”
Shekissesatmythroat,hertonguelickingthereafterward.“Youcantouchmewheneveryouwant.”
“Yeah?”Ianglemyheadbacktolookather.Myhandsslidetocupherass,slidingoutofherafractiononlytopushbackin.“WheneverIwant?”
“Yes,”shehisses.
Ilifthertopullheroffofme,enoughsothatI’monlyalittlebitinsideherbeforeIletherfallbackdown.“Justlikethis?”
“Ah.”Herheadfallsbackagainstthewall.“Whateveryouwant.”
“Ijust”—IgruntasIpullherupandbackdownonmycockharder—“wantyou.”
“Likethat,”Cassiepants.“Mmm.”
“Canyoucomelikethis?Tellmewhatyouneed.”
“Ithink—ifyou—”
Shearchestobendbackagainstthewall,somuchthatIhavetoholdherhipstightertokeepherupright.ItmeansthateverytimeIthrustintoher,Ibumpagainstthatplacethatmakeshergasp,herbodyjoltingwitheveryslapofmyhips,andherlegstighteningaroundmywaistimpossiblyfurther.
“Rightthere,”shemoans,strugglingtokeephervoicedownnow.“Oh—don’tstop.”
Asifthatwasactuallyanoptionrightnow.
Icanfeelhernailsdiggingintomyshoulders,deepenoughtoleaveamark,butthestingbarelyregisterswiththewayshe’sstartedtotenseup.Icanhearthepopsinhertoesandfeelthetremblingofherbody,evidenceofhertippingovertheedge.It’sdifficulttoduckmyheadsoIcansuckatthesoftswellofherbreasts,butIneedmymouthonher,whereverIcanreach.IfeelthatpressurebuildingdeepwhileIpushintoheragainandagainandagain—mylegsweakandmypulsethrobbingundereveryinchofmyskin.
“Cassie,I’m—fuck.”
Iholdhercloseasweshudderthroughit,herbreathhotagainstmyearasIburymyfaceinherthroat.Myteethsinkintothesuppleskinatthebendinhernecktostiflemygroan,andshepressesfeveredkissesagainstmyjawasItrytocomedownfromthehighofit.Iholdherclosethroughallofit,unabletoletgoofher.ItonlyoccurstomethatI’mstillgrippinghertight,buriedinsideher,whenIfeelherfingerspushingthroughmyhairwhileshestrokesmyshoulderinsoothingcircles.
WhenIfinallypullawaytolookather,thefeelingitgivesmetoseeherdebauchedandmussedandsatisfied,smilingatmelikeI’vegivenherafuckingpresent—it’sindescribable.
“Pleaseconsiderleavingatip,”shewhispers.
Ihuffoutalaugh,dazedattheideathatthisishappeningandthatsheishereandthatsomanythingscametogethertoputusineachother’slivesagain.Itstillfeelslikeitmightbeadream,andmaybeIwouldactuallyworrythatitwas,ifshewasn’tsoverywarmandsoveryrealinmyarms.IthasmewonderinghowmanydaysweneedtospendtogetherforittobesociallyacceptabletoentertaintheideathatImightbegoneforthiswoman.Surelymorethanwehave,Iwouldthink.
Andwhat’sevenmoreunbelievableisthatevennow,evenjusthavinghadher…Ialreadywantheragain.
“Howmuchsleepdoyouneed?”
Shecocksaneyebrowatme.“Really?Again?”
“Youdidaskforatip,”Isayseriously.
Hermouthdropsopenasshesmacksmyshoulder,buthereyessayshe’smorethanhappytosacrificehereighthours.IknowreasonablyatsomepointIdohavetolethersleep;I’mawareofthat.
Butthatisn’tgoingtobeanytimesoon.Chatwith@alacarte
@alacarte
sentyoua$100tip
IwishIwasspendingthistotakeyououtinstead.How’sthatforcheesy?
CHAPTER21Cassie
WhenInoticethesunlightonmyfaceintheearlymorning,myfirstreactionispanic.Ishootupinmybed,feelingAidenstirbesidemeasIclamorformycellphoneonthebedsidetable.
Justafterseven.Whew.
Sophiedoesn’tnormallycrawloutofbeduntileightthirty,atleast.Especiallyonweekends.Still,Ihavelabstoday,andsinceAiden’sandmylate-nightactivitiespreventedmefromrememberingtosetmyalarm,I’magoodtwentyminutesbehind.IyawnasIreplacemyphonewhereIfoundit,rollingmyshouldersandstretchingasItrytowakemyselfup.I’dwagerweonlygotfourorfivehoursofsleeplastnight,andIhavesoremusclesIdidn’tevenknowexisteduntiltoday,butstill.SeeingAidensprawledoutinmybed,hishairfallingintohiseyesandhismouthpartedsoftlyinsleep—I’dsayit’sworthit.
Lastnighthadbeenoneofimmensesurpriseandrelief;IhadbeensoconvincedthatAidenwouldaskmetoleavethathisunderstandinghadknockedmeonmyass.Andwhat’sevenmoreremarkableishisapparenthappinesstoknowwhoIam,whoweare.It’slikeahugeweighthasbeenliftedoffmyshoulders,knowingthattherearenomoresecretsbetweenus.Itfeelsnowlikemaybewecanactuallygivethisthingarealchance.Ifthat’swhatAidenwants,thatis.I’mwellawarethatinourfrenziedarousalthatfollowedhisdiscoverylastnight,AidenandIhaven’tgottenachancetotalk.ThatissomethingIthinkwe’llneedtodoatsomepoint.I’dfeelalotbetterhearingthatI’mnottheonlyonewhoisinvestedinthisthingbetweenusbeyondjustthephysicalaspect.
IknowI’mstillbehind,andthatIshouldbejumpingintheshower,butIfeelgreedywithhimnexttomelikeheis.Hisbodyseemstoobigformyqueen-sizedmattress,oneofhisthickarmsdrapedabovehisheadandtheotherrestingoverhisstomachabovethesheets,whicharetangledaroundhiships.TherearethingsmoreeasilynoticedinthebrightlightofthemorningthatIhaven’tbeenabletoappreciateduringourusuallateencounters—thingslikethesoftsmatteringofhaironhischestthatislighterthanthatonhishead.Iletmyfingersbrushthroughitcarefullyashestirs,notenoughtowakebutenoughtoshifthisbodysothesheetslipsfurtherfromhiswaist,leavinghimmostlynude.
AndIamdefinitelynotcomplainingaboutthat.
Icheckthetimeonmyphoneagain,weighingmyoptionsbeforetellingmyselfthatdryshampooisathingforareason.Sure,theyprobablydidn’tinventitforthesolepurposeofearly-morningsexcapadeswithyourlong-lostcamgirlknightinshiningarmor,butwhatever.I’mcarefulasIscootnexttohim,lightlytracingthebottomhalfofhisscar,whichspillsoutfromunderhisdrapedarm.Ileanintopressmylipsthereafterward,feelinghisskintwitchundermymouth,buthissoftsnoresdon’tstop.
IsmileasIpressanotherkisslower,rightalongtherelaxedVnearhiship,flickingmytonguethereasAidenmakessomesoftsoundinhissleep.
Hiscockliesheavyagainsthisthigh,andIstealaglanceathisfaceasIrunafingerdownthelengthofhim,feelinghimjumpslightlyatmytouch.Histhighsarealreadyparted,oneofhiskneesangledouttooneside,soit’snotthatdifficulttowedgemyselfbetweenthem,bringingmeupcloseandpersonalwiththemostintimatepartofhim.He’sheavyinmyhandwhenIslidemypalmunderneath,andevenwiththisIcanfeelhimtwitch.
ItmakesmewonderhowmuchIcangetawaywithbeforehewakesup.
I’mcarefulwithmytongue,runningitalongtheentirelengthofhimwithabarelytheretouch,andundermyotherhandthatisbracedoverthetopofhisthigh,Icanfeelhimtense.IswirlmytonguearoundtheheadbeforeItrytotakemoreinside,andIcanfeelhowhe’sstartingtogetharderinmymouth.IclosemyeyesasIpushdeeper,notabletofitallofhimbutmakingupfortheleftoverincheswithmyfistasIgripthebase.
Idon’tnoticehe’sawakeuntilI’mpullingbackup,myeyespoppingopenwhenIfeeltheweightofhispalmonthebackofmyhead.Now,it’shardtosmilewithadickinyourmouth,soI’msureIlookridiculous,butItrytomakeupforitbybringingtheflatofmytongueundertheheadtocovermoreofhim.
“That’s—”Hisvoiceisgravellywithsleep,hiseyesglazedandhalf-liddedashewatchesme.“That’ssomewake-upcall.”He’sfullyhardnow,makingiteasytokissalonghisshaftashegroanslowinhischest.“Whattimeisit?”
“Early,”Itellhim.“She’llbeasleepforawhile.”
HislashesflutterwhenIslidemytonguebackuphisentirelength.“Okay.”
“ButIhavelabstoday,”Itellhim,pumpinghimlazilywithmyfist.“SoIhavetobequick.”
Onesideofhismouthtiltsup.“Ifyoukeeptouchingmelikethat,Idon’tthinktimeisgoingtobeanissue.”
IlikethewayhewatchesmewhenItakehiminsidemymouth,lookingatmelikeI’msomesortofmythicalcreaturehecan’tbelievehe’sseeing.It’senoughtomakeanygirlfeelconfident.IbobmyheadtotakeasmuchasIcan,stillusingmyfisttoworkwhatmymouthcan’treach.
He’sgentlerthistime—noneofthefrenziedroughnesslikethelasttimeIhadhiminmymouth,butI’menjoyingthissideofhimjustasmuchasthatone.IdlyIwonderifthereareanysidesofAidenIwon’tlike.Thepressureofhishandonmyhairisslight,hardlyeventhere,butthat,too,ismakingmefeelheady.Ikindoflikebeingtheoneinchargeforonce.
Hisheadfallsbackagainstthepillow,hismouthpartingashisbreathcomesmoreroughlytospurmeon.Icanfeeleverytwitchagainstmytongue,everylittlepressofhisfingersagainstmyhair—allofitonlymakingmewanttopushhimovertheedgethatmuchmore.Icantellhewasn’tkiddingwhenhesaidthiswouldn’ttakelong;I’vebarelyhadhiminmymouthformorethanaminuteorso,andhisbreathinghasbeenreducedtoaseriesofraggedpants,andhishipstiltupalmostreflexivelyeverytimeItakehimasdeepasIcanmanage.
“Cassie,”herasps.“Youshould—I’mgonna—”
Iknowexactlywhathe’ssaying,andmaybeit’shubrisonmypart,butIlikethis.Ilikeitbecauseitfeelslikehecan’thelpit.Ilikeitbecausehelikesit.Icoulddothisasmanytimesasittakestoblowhisfuckingmindsothathewon’tevenbeabletolookathiscockwithoutimaginingmymouthonhim.
Althoughwiththewayhe’spanting,Idon’tthinkitwilltakeallthatmuch.
Hisbodyisimpossiblytensenow,andhisfingershaveactuallytangledabitinmyhair,butI’msoconcernedwiththewayheswellsagainstmytonguethatIbarelyfeelanyofit.Iworkmyfistintandemwithmymouth,hearinghisstutteredgroanbeforeIfeelthewarmsplashagainstthebackofmythroat.Itrytofocusonthesoundshe’smaking,thewayhisbodyshakesbeneathme,closingmyeyesasIswalloweverythinghegivesme.Thewayhegoesbonelessafterwardisintenselysatisfying,anditmakesmywateryeyesandmylackofbreathwhenIpullawayfromhimallworthit.Helooksdazedashestaresupattheceiling,hardlyevenmovingwhenIcrawluphisbodytodrapemyselfacrosshischest.
“Goodmorning,”Itease.
Aidenblowsoutabreath.“Alarmclocksaregoingtoseemincrediblylacklusternow.”
“Jobsecurity,”Ilaugh,enjoyingmylittlerunningjoke.Ileanintokisshim,andAidendoesn’tseemputoutatallthatIjusthadhiminmymouth,pullingmeintodeepenthekiss.Igivehimasofterpeckafter.“Idohavetogetoutofherethough.Youcostmemyshower.”
“I’dliketosaythatIfeelbad,but…”
Igrin.“Yeah,I’dhatetomakealiaroutofyou.”
“I’llreturnthefavorlater.”
“Oh,absolutely.Ihaveamentalorgasmtally.Don’tworry.”
“Wow,nopressureoranything.”
Mysmilehitchesupanothernotch,andIgivehimonelastkiss.“I’msupposedtogetmycarfromtheshopafterclass,soI’llpickSophieupfromtherestaurantlater,okay?”
“Theyfixedit?”
“Apparentlythecheckenginelightisnotsomethingyoujustignoreandhopeitgoesaway.”
“Ireallycouldtakeyoutoclass,youknow,”heinsists.
It’saconversationwe’vehadafewtimessincemyoldclunkergaveoutonme,andIrollmyeyesnowjustlikeIhaveeveryothertime.
“Imightbetheonlypersoninthishousethatdoesn’tholdagrudgeagainstpublictransportation.”
Hepinchesmyass,andIyelp.“I’mgladit’sfixed,atleast.”
“Myslightlyless-brokenhunkofjunkandIwillbeperfectlyfinetocomegetSophieafterclass.”
“She’llbeanxiouslywaitingforyoutosaveher,I’msure,”hesnorts.
Irollawayfromhim,feelinghiseyesonmebutnothatingtheattention,andIcastanotherlookbackathimbeforeIheadintothebathroomtodoarushjobofgettingready.“Maybetodayshe’llgiveyourpancakesanotherchance?”
IlaughasIclosethebathroomdoorbehindme,hearinghimgrumblingthewholeway.
—
Therestofmydaydoesn’tgoaswellasmymorning.
Thewake-upcallI’dgivenAidenhadn’tofficiallymademelateleavingthehouse,butsinceIleftlaterthanusual,thetrafficjammybusgotstuckinfollowinganaccidentdefinitelymademelate.Betweenthemissedassignmentthisweekandbeingalmostthirtyminuteslatetomyfirstlab,myinstructorhadafewchoicewordstosayaboutgettingmyheadinthegame.Itcoloredmyentireday,throwingmeoffinawaythathadmedroppingthingsIshouldn’tandchartingthingsincorrectly—makingallsortsoferrorsIwouldn’tnormallymakehadInotbeensorattled.
I’mexhaustedbythetimeIleavecampus,myridebacktoSanDiegoseemingmuchlongerthanusual.Pickingupthecarhelps—buttheheftybillcertainlydoesn’t.Hell,beforebecomingSophie’snanny,thissamebillwouldhavemeanteatingmicrowaveramenforaweekortwo.
I’mtryingtopullmyselfoutofmygloomymoodbyblastingTaylorSwift’sentirediscographyonthedrivetotherestaurant,butevenmySpotifyseemstobeagainstmetoday,playingentirelytoomuchevermoreandnotnearlyenoughRed.It’sliketheuniversewantsmetocrytoday.
Ficklebitch,I’mtellingyou.
I’vebeentoAiden’srestauranttopickupSophieafewtimesnowsinceourfirstinterview,andwhilethehostessdoesn’tside-eyemeasmuchaboutmybodysprayanymore,sheseemstohaveanopiniononmyshoes,ifthewayshelooksatmywornChuckseverysingletimeIstepthroughthedoorsisanyindication.Idon’tevenacknowledgehertonight,givingheradismissivewaveasIheadstraightforthekitchen.Ihavetopassthroughthebarareatogetthere,butI’vedevelopedagoodroutineofmovingaroundthebartenderswhilestayingoutoftheirwayasIpushthroughthedoubledoorsthatleadintothekitchenarea.
Now,I’mfullyawarethatI’mnotinthebestofmoodsrightnow,butIcan’tpretendthatseeingAideninfullexecutivechefmode—barkingorderstotheotherchefsandpeekingovertheirshoulderswithadiscerninglookallwhilewearingthatjacketthatIshouldn’tprobablybesoattractedto—helpsalittle.Hedoesn’tnoticemeatfirst,toobusycriticizingthebraisingofsomemeatsittinginapanthat’soutofmyview.
Sophieisperchedonherusualstoolinasafecornernearthesinks,wavingwhenshecatchessightofmeandsettingherSwitchonthecounterbeforehoppingdownfromherseat.“Canwegohome?”Shecastsawaryglancetowardherdad.“Dadisinabadmood.”
It’slikewe’relinkedorsomething.
“Whathappened?”
Sophieshrugs.“Idon’tknow.Somecustomerwasmadaboutsomething.”
“Yikes.”
IpeekbackatAiden,stillchidingwhoIassumeisoneofhissous-chefs,wonderingifitmightbebettertosneakoutandsendhimatext.I’dhatetomakehisnightanyworse.BeforeIcanlandonadecision,Aidenfinallynoticesmestandingontheothersideofthekitchen,andhisexpressionimmediatelychangesasheoffersonelastwordtohissous-chefbeforecomingover.
“Hey,”hesays,smilingwithtiredeyes.“Howwasyourday?”
Irollmyeyes.“Aboutasgoodasyours,itsoundslike.Whathappened?”
“Bullshit,”Aidengrumbles.“Ididn’tcatchasteakgoingoutovercooked,anditgotsentbackwithanicenoteaboutwhetherornotwedeserveourstars.”
“Ouch.”Imakeaface.“Theysoundlikethey’realotoffunatparties.”
“Whathappenedwithyourday?”
IknowifItellhimIwaslatetodayhe’llblamehimself,andsinceitwasentirelymychoicetohangbackandenjoyhimthismorning,Idon’twanttomakehisnightanyworsewithneedlessbitching.
Ishrugnoncommittally.“Justalameday.Nothinginparticular.”
“I’msorry,”heoffers.
Iwavehimoff.“Eh.It’sfine.”
“Sophie,”Aidenaddresseshisdaughter.“Whydon’tyougogetyourstufffromtheoffice?”
“Okay!”
Whenwe’realone,Aidenpeersatmefromtheside.“Ireallywanttokissyourightnow.”
“Howgossipyareyourchefs?”
“Oh,theentireworldwouldknowbeforeyougottoyourcar.”
Thismakesmelaugh.“You’dbetternotriskitthen.”
Aidennodslikeheagrees,butthere’sasettohismouththatsaysdifferently.Hisjawclenchesashehesitatestocontinue,lookinglikehe’swrestlingwithsomething.
“Youknow,”hestarts.“Mybossisthrowingapartynextweekend.”
Iperkup.“Aparty?”
“Forhisbirthday.Hedoesiteveryyear.”
Iguesshe’stellingmethatmeandSophiewillhaveanightalonesoon.
“Oh.”Ibobmyheadaimlessly.“Soundsfun.”
“Ithoughtmaybewecouldgotogether.”
Thiscatchesmeoffguard.“What?”
Shyisastrangelookforsuchalargemanbutnotanunappealingone.“Likeadate?”
Mymouthpartsinsurprise.“But…whatwouldwetellSophie?”
“Well.”Aiden’shandreachesjustenoughsothathispinkiebrushesagainstmine,anditcanhardlyevenbecalledatouch,butitmakesmeshiverallthesame.“Iguesswewouldtellherthetruth.”
Icanfeelmyheartstarttobeatfaster,aheavyflutteringsensationsettingoffinmybellyattheseriousnessofAiden’sexpression.“Andyou’re…okaywiththat?”
“She’sgoingtofindouteventually,”hetellsme.“It’snotlikeyou’regoinganywhereanytimesoon.”There’saflashofuncertaintyinhisfeaturesthen,likehe’snotentirelysurehimselfbutlookingforsomecomfortinthisregard.“Right?”
MymouthopensandcloseslikeI’mdoingagoldfishimpression;Ithoughtthatwe’dhavetotalksoonaboutwhatweareandwherewesawourselvesgoing,butIneverexpectedAidentodiveintoitheadfirstwithoutanyhesitation.I’vebarelyhadtimetowrapmyheadaroundtheidea,andAidenisreadytolayallhiscardsoutonthetable.Itfeelsalittlereckless,andalotendearing,butultimately,it’saneasyanswer.
“No,”Itellhim.“I’mnot.”
Hissmileisbrilliant,somuchsothatitnearlytakesmybreathaway,andI’mexperiencinganintenseneedtokisshimnow.“So?Doyouwanttogo?”
“Isitfancy?IdoubtIhaveadressthatworks.”
“Letmeworryaboutthat,”heurges.“Sayyou’llcome.”
IbitemylipasIconsider,stillconcernedabouthowSophiewilltakethisnewsbuttooelatedbytheideaofAidenwantingtotellhertoevenentertaintheideaofsayingno.BecausewhoamIkidding?There’snowayI’mgoingtodothat.Recklessornot,IknowthatI’masreadytodiveinheadfirstasheis.HowcouldInotbe?
“Yeah,”Itellhim.“Iwanttogo.”
Anotherdistractingsmileformytrouble.“It’sadatethen.”
It’sadate.
I’vehadplentyoffirstdatesbefore,butIdon’tthinkI’veeverbeenononewithaguyI’malreadysleepingwith.AndstillIfeelathousandtimesmoreexcitedforthisonethananyotherI’vebeenon.IpracticallyfeellikeIjustgotaskedtoprom.
SophiecomesbackbeforeIhavetimetosayanythingelse,butIthinkthegoofygrinonmyfaceIcan’tseemtowipeawayprobablysaysmorethanenough.AtleastAiden’slooksmildlysimilar,soIdon’tfeelcompletelyridiculous.
“CanwewatchEncantoafterdinner?”
NormallyImightgroan—it’sagoodmovie,butwe’veseenitadozentimesnow—butstrangelyIdon’tevenfeelputout.Ipatherheadwiththatsamesmileplasteredonmyface.“Sure.Wecanwatchit.”
“Yes!”SheturnstowrapherarmsaroundAiden.“Bye,Dad.Loveyou.”
“Bye,”heanswersback,squeezingherintoahug.“Loveyoutoo.”
Sophieflouncespastme,andIgiveAidenonelastlookbeforefollowingher.“Seeyoulater?”
“Yeah.”Thelookhegivesmeisheavy,thegreenandbrownofhiseyesseemingwarmerthanusual.“Youwill.”
Ittakesmeatleastanhourtostopsmiling.Myheartisbeatingsofast.Thiscouldbeaterriblemistake.Hecouldbesomeoneentirelydifferentthanheseemstobe.
Butthatdoesn’tseemtobedeterringmeintheslightest.
Andhe’sstillwaitingonmyanswer.
“Iwanttoseeyoutoo,”Ibreathe.“Reallyseeyou.”
Icanhearhisexhale,rushed,likehe’dbeenholdinghisbreath.
Ireachforthemask,buthestopsme,makingasoundofprotest.
“Butyousaid—”
“Iwanttobeabletotouchyou,whenIfirstseeyou,”hesays.Heatpoolsinmybelly.“BecausewhenIseeyou…IhaveafeelingIwon’tbeabletostop.”
CHAPTER22Cassie
Wedon’ttellSophieuntilthedayoftheparty.It’sprobablynotthesmartestthingeitherofushaseverdone,draggingourfeetlikethis,butIthinkAidenhasbeenasnervousaboutherreactionasI’vebeen.She’ssittinginthearmchairoppositethecouch,herfingerssteepledunderherchinlikeamobbossassheregardsusthoughtfully.
“So…you’relike,boyfriendandgirlfriend?”
AidenandIsharealook,andIshakemyhead.Thatone’sallhim.“Yes,”heanswers,clearinghisthroat.“We’redating.”
Sophielooksfrommetoherdadtomeagain.“Whydidyoukeepitasecret?”
“Weweren’ttryingtokeepitasecret,”Iurge.“Wejust—”
“Didn’twanttoconfuseyou,”Aidenfinishes.
Herlittlefaceisstillasblankasanemptycanvas.Thewaysheislookingatusisalmostenoughtomakemesquirm;itfeelslikeI’mtellingmydadaboutmyfirstboyfriend,whichishilarioussinceIknowhewouldn’thavegivenashit.Clearly,tellingSophieisamuchmorenerve-rackingexperience.
“Iknowwhatdatingis,”Sophiesays.“It’slikekissingandstuff.”
InoticeAidenlookslikehe’dratherbeanywhereelse.“Andgoingouttogether,”hesays,ignoringthatcomment.“Liketonight.IwanttotakeCassietoaparty.”
“Onadate,”Sophieclarifies.
“Yes,”hesays.“Onadate.”
Hereyesnarrow,likeshe’sthinking.ShelookslikethedamnedGodfather.Likeafour-foot-fivecrimelord.OrmaybeI’mprojecting.
“ButCassieisstillmynanny.Right?”
“OfcourseIam,”Iassureher.“Noneofthatwillchange.”
Hernosewrinkles.“Doyouhavetokiss?”
“Wecantrytokeepthekissingtoaminimum,”Aidencounteroffers,eventhoughI’mprettysureheintendstokeepdoingitasmuchaspossibleoutofSophie’slineofsight.“Ifthatmakesyoumorecomfortable.”
“It’sgross,”shesays,makingablechsound.
Thismakesmelaugh.“Youwon’tthinkthatoneday.”
“Yes,Iwill,”sheargues.
Aidensnorts.“Forever,Ihope.”Heregardshisdaughtercarefullythen.“Areyou…okay?Withthis?It’sveryimportanttomethatyou’reokaywithallofthis,Soph.”
“Oh.It’sfine.”Sheshrugs.“Butifyoubreakup,IgettokeepCassieasmynanny.”
“I’mgladtoknowwhereIlieinthepyramidofyourpriorities,”Aidenmumbles.
Ipathisshoulder,grinning.“Don’tyouforgetit.”
“CanIgoplaymySwitchnow?Ialmostbeatthebosslasttime.”
“Yes,youcango,”Aidentellsher.“Ifyou’resureyou’reokay.”
Shemovestoleavebutturnsbackwithapuzzledexpression.“Wait.WhereamIgoingtonight?”
“Oh,”Ipipeup.“So.Ifyou’reokaywithit,Wandaaskedifyouwantedtohangoutwithhertonight.”
Hereyeslightup.“CanIspendthenight?”
“Sophie,”Aideninterjects.“I’msureWandadidn’tmeanforyouto—”
“I’llaskher,”Icutin,knowingWandawon’tcare.IturntoAiden.“She’dprobablyloveit,honestly.Aslongasyou’reokaywithit.”
Hefrowns.“Ifyou’resureitwouldn’tputherout.”
“Wandawillbethefirsttoletmeknowifso,”Ilaugh.
IshooSophieupstairs,waitinguntilshe’sgonetoleanmyheadonAiden’sshoulder,grinningupathim.“Thatwasrelativelypainless.”
“AmItheonlyonewhofeltlikeIwasinaninterview?”
“Oh,no,shedefinitelyhadaDonCorleone–vibegoingon.”
He’sstillfrowningatthestairswhereshedisappeared.“It’sgoodthatwetoldher,right?Ihatelyingtoher,anyway.”
“Ithinkit’llbefine,”Iassurehim.“Sophie’sasmartkid.She’dhavecaughtoneventually.”
“You’reprobablyright.”
Ireachtotraceafingerdownhisjaw.“EspeciallysinceIdon’tseethewhole‘kissestoaminimum’thingworkingoutverywell.”
Hescoffs.“AreyouimplyingthatIcan’tkeepmyhandstomyself?”
Idon’tanswer,insteadlookingdownandtappingthebackofhishandthatrestsonmykneewherehisfingershavebeenunconsciouslytracingacircleforthelasttenminutes.
Aidenrollshiseyes.“Okay,fine.”
“So,Ihopeyoumadesuremycorsagematchesmydress.Iexpectfanfaretonight.”
“Fanfare,”heechoes,shakinghisheadashelaughs.“Well,Ididn’tgetyouacorsage,butIdidgetyouadress.”
Ipushawaytoraiseaneyebrowathim.“Howdidyouknowmysize?”
“I…mighthavelookedinyourcloset,”hesayssheepishly.
Iclapmyhandovermymouthinadramaticfauxgasp.“OhmyGod,nextthingyouknowyou’llberiflingthroughmyunderweardrawer.”
“IpreferyourunderwearonthefloormorethanIdoinyourdrawer.”
Ibitebackasmile,turningmyfacedownatmylapsohecan’tseemyblush.Itraceacircleofmyownonthebackofhishandthatstillrestsonmyknee.“So…I’mcuriousaboutthisdress.WhatkindofdresswouldAidenReidbuyme?”
“Somethingwithaquestionableneckline.”
Ishakemyheadadmonishingly.“Pervert.”
“Maybe,”hechuckles.
Heleansinthenasiftokissme,butIreachbetweenustocoverhismouthwithmyhand.“Hey,now.Kissestoaminimum.”
Isquealwhenhelicksmypalm,snatchingitawayashishanddartsouttograbmywristsohecantugmecloser.Hekeepsaholdofmewhilehecoversmymouthwithhis,myteasingprotestsnomatchforthesoftnessofhislips.Hehumscontentedlyashelingersforamoment,onlypullingawaywhenI’vecompletelymeltedintoit.
“That’llhavetodountillater,”hemurmurs.
Itonlyhitsmeatthisexactmomentthatlatermeansanentirehousetoourselvesafterourfirstofficialdate,forthefirsttimesinceI’vebeenhere,andseeingthewayAidenislookingatme—Ihavetoassumehe’sthinkingaboutthatfactaswell.IttakesallIhavetokeepmyvoiceevenwhenIspeakagain.
“So,”Isayinatotallynormalwaythatdoesn’tbetraythefactthatI’mthinkingaboutfutureuninhibitedsex.“Let’sseethisdress.”
—
Stopfidgeting,”IlaughaswestandoutsideWanda’sdoor.
Aidenadjustshistie(IcouldprobablywriteanentireessayonwhyAidenshouldwearatieeveryday,becauseholyshit),makingthatsamenervousfacethatmakesmewanttogiggleeverytimeIlookathim.“WhydoesitfeellikeI’mmeetingyourparents?”
“Well,Wandaisclosertothatthanmyactualparents,so.It’snottoofaroff.”
“Right.Shit.I’msorry.”
“Badword,Dad,”Sophiechidesfrombesideus.
“Iknow,”heapologizes.“Sorry.”
Sophieleanstolookatherdadfrommyside.“IsDadscaredofWanda?”
“IamnotscaredofWanda,”heargues.
InudgeSophiewithmyelbow.“He’stotallyscaredofWanda.”
“Iamnotscaredof—”
Aidenfallssilentwhenthedoorfinallyopens,Wandapullingopenthedoorinherhouseshoesandherrobeandherpinkflannelpajamas.Basicallythepolaroppositeofintimidating.Doesn’tkeepAidenfromstandingasstiffasastatuenexttome.ShesmilesbrightlyatSophie,whoimmediatelyrushesherinahug,andWandaleansintoitasshepatsthelittlegirl’shead.SeeingthewayWandalightsupwithSophiemakesmefeelallfuzzyinside.
WandagivesSophieaseriouslook.“Youreadytogetwhoopedinginrummytonight?”
“No!I’mgoingtowinthistime.I’vebeenpracticing.”
Wandalooksunconvinced,shootingheralook.“She’sgotalongwaytogobeforeIstartdragginghertothecasinowithme.”
Aidenisstillcompletelymutebesidemeduringallofthis,andWandadoesn’tacknowledgehimatfirst.NotuntilshedirectsSophieintothehousetogofindherdeckofcards.Sophiegivesusarushedgoodbye,butIcantellshehashigherprioritiesthanusnow.
Wanda’sfacelosesitskindlywarmthwhenshefinallyturnsbacktoAiden,herhandsmovingtoherhipsasshelookshimupanddown.“YouAiden?”
Henodsstiffly.“Yes,ma’am.”
“Noneofthatma’amstuff.Wanda’sfine.”
“Right.Wanda.Sorry.”
Wandapursesherlipsasshetapsherfoot.“Yougotahellofakidinthere,”shetellshim.
“Thankyou,”Aidenanswers.“Shespeakshighlyofyou.Weappreciateyouwatchinghertonight.”
“Well,sinceyousnatchedthisone”—shehitchesathumbinmydirection—“Icouldusethecompany.”
Aidenlookslikehewantstomeltintothefloor,andIhavetoforcemyselfnottolaugh.“Sorryaboutthat,”heoffers.“I,ah,didn’tmeantosnatchheraway.”
Wandalooksmywaythen,whistling.“Lookatyou,”shepraises.“Thatdressmakesyourasslooklikeamillionbucks.”
Ituckmychin,battingmyeyelashesatherasIturntogivehermysideprofile.“Doesn’tit?Aidenpickeditout.”
“Oh?”ShepeeksoveratAiden,lookingamused.“Didhe?”
Ismoothmyhandsoverthesilkyblackmaterialthathugsmelikeaglove,pattingtheroundnessofmyhipsasInod.“Hedidgood.”
“I’msurehewasn’tthinkingaboutyourassatallwhenheboughtit,”sheteases.
Iturnagaintopeekbackattheassinquestion.“Prettysurethisdoesn’thappenbyaccident.”
WhenIsneakaglanceinAiden’sdirection,Inoticethetipsofhisearsarered,andIdecidetocuttheteasingshort.Hemightnevertakemeoutagainifhethinksthisiswhathehastolookforwardto.ItrytotellWandawithmyeyestocutitout,butitdoesn’tworkintheslightest.
“So,Aiden.”Sheleansintolowerhervoice.“Youaren’tstilllookingatthoseboobycams,areyou?”
“Wanda,”Iadmonish.“OhmyGod.”
Aidenlooksaboutthreesecondsfromshort-circuiting,andIcanfeelmyneckgettinghotwithmortification.Heisabsolutelynevergoingtoaskmeoutagain.WandafinallysmilesasIstartsilentlybeggingfordeath,squawkingoutalaughasshepatsAidenonthechest.
“I’mpullingyourleg,boy,”shecackles.“Youbegoodtomygirl,allright?”
Aidennodsmechanically.“Yes.Ofcourse.”
“ShetellyouIgotafakehip?Ifyoubreakherheart,I’ll—”
“Okay,”Icutin.“We’dbettergetgoing.Youhaveournumbers,so,ifyouneedanythingatall…”
Wandaisstilllaughing,andIshootheralookthatsaysIwillbetearingheranewhidelater.“Youkidsgohavefun,”shesays,shooingusoff.“Igotthelittleterrorhandled.”
“Seriously,”Aidenurges.“Callusifyouneedanythingatall.”
“Don’tworry,”Wandasayswithasmile.“Igotthis,Dad.”
Shegivesusawaveassheclosesthedoor,holleringsomethingaboutshufflingthecardsbeforethedoorclosesbehindher.Aidendoesn’timmediatelymovetoleave,stilllookingdazedwhenhiseyesfindmine.“Ican’ttellifshehatesmeornot.”
“Oh,”Ilaugh.“Shelovesyou.”
Hebobshishead.“Well,okaythen.”
“Comeon,”Itellhim,reachingfortheredsilkofhistieandlettingitslidethroughmyfingers.“Let’sgogetyourmoney’sworthonthisdress.”
—
Aiden’sworkplacelooksdifferentwhenitisn’tfullofchatteringcustomersandpackedtables.Theownerhasclosedmostoftherestaurantdownsaveforthemaindiningarea,wherethey’vesetupgroupsoftablesforthestaff.Inoticethehostesswhoisalwaysgivingmelooks(AidenhasinformedmethathernameisLauraandthatit’sjustherface)atanearbytablewithoneofthebartenders,andshegivesmeanodwhenoureyesmeet.Maybeevenasmile.Ican’ttell.
Maybeitreallyisjustherface.
Thelightingistheusualmutedglowthatfeelsromantic,andwhenAidenguidesmeacrossthespaceandhelpsmeintooneofthefancychairsthatIhaven’tsatinsinceourweirdfirstmeeting—itfullyhitsmethatthisisadate.ItmakesmyheartbeatfasterwhileIsettleintomychair,Aidentakingtheoneoppositemeandgivingmeawarmsmilewhenhecatchesmestaring.
“What?”
“It’sfunny,”Itellhim.
“Whatis?”
“Thelasttimewewereherelikethis,Ialmostspitonyou.”
“Itwasverycute,”hetellsme.
“Really?”
“HowcreepydoesitmakemeseemifItellyouitmademethinkaboutyourmouthfortherestofthenight?”
“Incrediblycreepy,”Ideadpan.“Straighttojail.”
Hissmilewidens.“I’llbesurenottotellyouanyoftheothercreepythoughtsI’vehadaboutyousinceyoumovedinthen.”
“Oh,noway,”Iprotest.“Iwanttoknoweverything.Ialreadyknowyou’reapervert,anyway.”
“ButhowcreepydoesitsoundifIsayIonlywanttobeapervertwithyou?”
Iblowoutabreath,reachingforthelittlepurseI’vebroughtasifgoingformyphone.“Wow.Yeah.I’mcallingthepolice.”Aidenlaughs,andIdroptheactasIgrinbackathim.“It’sfine.Ispentmostofthatfirstnightthinkingaboutyourhands,sowe’reeven.”
“Myhands?”Helooksdownathisfingerswithafurrowedbrow.“Whataboutthem?”
“They’reverybig.”
“So?”
“Youknowwhattheysayaboutguyswithbighands.”
Heraisesaneyebrow.“Wow.Nowwho’sthepervert?”
“Iguesswe’remadeforeachother,”Isaywithacluckofmytongue.
Hisexpressionsoftens.“Yeah.”
Inoticesomeoneapproachingourtablethen,amiddle-agedmanwhocan’tbeanyolderthanfifty,judgingbyhisthinninggrayhair.HewaveswhenhecatchesAiden’seyeashenears.He’sdressedinablacksuitandmatchingtie,moresnazzylookingthantheotherpartygoers,andIhavetoassumethisisAiden’sboss.“Aiden!Sogladyoucame.Iwassurethatyouweregoingtogivemetheold‘partiesaren’tmything’lineagainthisyear.”
“Ah,well.”InoticeAidenflushing.“Ithoughtitwouldbenicetocomeoutforonce.”
Themanturnshissmileonmethen,histeethjustvisiblebeneathhisthick,grayingmustache.“Andyourlovelydatewouldhavenothingtodowiththatatall,I’msure.”Heextendshishand.“JosephCohen,dear.Iownthisoldplace.”
“It’sbeautiful,”Itellhim.“I’mCassie.”
“Cassie,”heechoes.“Howdidsuchanuglyguylandalookerlikeyou?”
Icantellhe’sjoking,noticingthewayAidenrollshiseyesfrombehindJoseph,andIshrugasIthrowupmyhandsinmockdisbelief.“Heworemedown.I’mtalkingpoems-outside-my-windowlevelofwooing.”
“Ihavenodoubt,”Josephlaughs.HepointsafingeratAiden.“Ilikethisone.”Thentobothofus:“Youbothhavefuntonight,yeah?Havesomewine.Dancealittle.It’smybirthday,soIinsist.”
“Iwouldhatetooffendyoubynottakingfreewine,”Isayseriously.
Josephchuffsoutanotherlaugh.“Exactly.”Hepatstheedgeofourtable.“Ihavetomaketherounds.Everyonelovesavisitfromtheirbossontheiroffnight,right?”
Iwaittillhe’soutofearshotbeforeIleanacrossthetable.“Okay.Isthatanact,orisyourbosscool?”
“No,”Aidenchuckles.“He’sgreat.Hewentoutonalimbformewhenhegavemethisjob.Ihadbeenasous-chefatathreestarforacoupleofyearsafterIgotoutofschool,andIwasn’tgettinganybitesonanyoftheotherplacesIwasapplying.Joewalkedinonedayonawhim,andhelikedthefoodsomuchthatheaskedtomeetwhoevermadeit.HeinsistedIcomebyforaninterview,andwell,therestishistory.”
“Hesoundsgreat,”Itellhim.“Definitelybettertolikeyourbossthanworkforanasshole.”
Aiden’smouthtwitches.“Andyouknowthisfrompersonalexperience?”
“Oh,absolutely.Mybossisarealhard-ass.Verydemanding.”
Aidenlaceshisfingersasheleansincloser.“I’dbehappytobemoredemanding,ifyouwant.”
Warmthpoolsinmybelly,andIhavetoremindmyselfwestillhavedrinks,dinner,anddancingtogetthroughbeforehecantakethisdressoffme.NotthatAidenseemstohaveanyintentionofmakingthewaiteasy.ItrytolookunaffectedeventhoughI’mpressingmythighstogethernow,noddingmyheadtowardtheopenbar.
“Ithinkyou’dbetterbuymeadrinkfirst.”
—
Therestofthenightseemstopassbyinablur;dinnerissomeamazingbeefdishthatIcan’tpronouncebutmeltsinmymouth,andafterthemaincourse,theybringoutablackberrysorbetthatmakesmewanttoliveinsidetheirfreezer.Ifweweren’tinafive-starrestaurant,I’dhaveprobablylickedthebowlclean.Josephcomesandsitswithusforawhilebetweencourses,tellingstoriesaboutAidenandtherestaurantandallsortsoffunanecdotesinbetween.Atsomepointawomanstartscrooningsoftlyfromtheoverheadspeakers,someFrenchsongIcan’tunderstand,andIwatchaspeoplestartmovingfromtheirtablestofindtheopenfloorinthemiddleoftheroom.
Now,I’matwenty-five-year-oldwomanwhohasdatedanddinedanddancedonmorethanoneoccasionbeforethis,butwhenAidenrisesfromhischairtooffermehishandandquietlyasksmetodance—Ifeeldownrightgiddy.Almostlikeit’sthefirsttime.
Heguidesmeoutontothefloorandpullsmeclose,andhiswidepalmssettlingatmyhipsareawarm,pleasantweightthroughthesilkofmydress.Iwindmyarmsaroundhisneckandgrinupathimshylyashestartstomovemetothemusic;there’snothinginherentlycomplicatedaboutthewayhedoesit,justashufflingofourfeetinaslowback-and-forth,butIfeelflutteryallthesame.
“Asfarasfirstdatesgo,”Itellhim,“thisonehassetthebarprettyhigh.”
Ifeelhisthumbslideagainstmyhip.“That’sgoodtoknow.It’sbeenalongtimesinceIhadafirstdate.”
“Metoo,”Iadmit.Andthenalittlequieter:“Overayear.”
Hissmileisfaintandbarelythere,butIcanjustmakeitout.“Metoo.”
“Sometimesnoneofthisfeelsreal,”Iadmit.“IkeepexpectingtowakeuponWanda’scouch.”
“HowdoyouthinkIfeel?Ihavetoconvincemyselfeverydaythatsomeonelikeyouwouldwanttohangaround.”
“Um.Pumpthebrakesthere,Mr.Reid.Let’snotpretendthatyouaren’tasix-foot-somethingtemptationstationwithsexeyes.”
“Sexeyes?”
“Oh,comeon.They’resoprettyitisn’tevenfair.”
Ifeelhishandslideminutelyupmysidetopressatmywaistonlytodriftbackdownasifonlytofeeltheshapeofme.Itmakesmystomachflip.“Ithinkyoursarenicer.”
“You,myfriend,arecrazy.”
HislaughissolowImightalmostmissitoverthemusic,butthenheleansinsothatIcanfeelthewarmthofhisbreathatmyear,makingmeshiver.“Youmakemefeelcrazy,Cassie.”
IclosemyeyeswhenIfeelthesoftpressofhislipsatmyjaw,mykneesgivingaridiculouswobblethatIthoughtwasonlyathinginmovies.
We’vebeenatthispartyformorethananhour,closertotwo,really,andsuddenlyallI’mthinkingaboutisgettingoutofthisclassyplaceandgoingbacktoAiden’stodofarlessclassythings.ThethingsI’mwantingtodomightevenbecalleddownrightrude,tosome.
Ihavetopressuponmytoestogetclosetohisear,droppingmyvoicetoawhisper.“Howmuchlongerdoyouhavetostay?”
Ifeelhimtensewhenmyfingernailteasesthecollarofhisshirtonthebackofhisneck.
“Aslongasyouwant,”hemurmursback,pullingmecloseragainsthim.
“IthinkI’mreadytoleave,Mr.Reid.”
Hemakesasoundlowinhisthroatthatputsmykneesindangeragain,squeezingmyhipforgoodmeasure.“Thenlet’sgetyouhome.”
Home.
Weirdly,thewordmakesmeshiver.
I’mincrediblygratefulthatwedon’thavetowaitforthecheck.
—
Ihavenoideahowwemakeitinthehouse,letaloneuptwoflightsofstairstoAiden’sbedroom.Idon’thavetimetoletitmarinatethatthisisthefirsttimeI’vebeeninAiden’sroom,sincewe’veneverbeenbraveenoughtosneakupherewithSophienormallydownthehall.SomewhereinthebackofmymindI’mawareofthegeneralcolorschemeofAiden’sroom;it’sthesameblackandgraythroughouteveryotherfacetofthehouse,butit’saverydistantthought.Idon’texactlyhavetimetoteasehimaboutitrightnow.Notwiththewayhe’sholdingmyface,tonguelavingagainstminewhileIfumblewiththebuttonsofhisshirt.
He’salreadytorndowntheclipholdingupmyhair,fingerstanglinginthethickmassashispalmslidesupmythightoruckupmydress.HegroanswhenIgethisshirtopen,myhandsrunningoverhischestandshoulderstotugathishead,tryingtosomehowdeepenthekiss.Everythingabouttonightfeelssomehowmorethananyothertimewe’vebeentogether;someheadycombinationofthedateandcomingcleantoSophiemakingallofthisfeelmorerealsomehow.
Idon’tcomebackdownfrommykiss-relatedhighuntilIfeelhimundoingthezipperatthebackofmydress;I’vealreadymanagedtoworkhisshirtandtieoffandundonetheflyofhispantswhenIcometomysenses.
“Wait,wait.”
Aiden’seyesarewildwhenhepullsawayfromme.“Wait?”
“Thedress,”Ihuff.“Ineedtohangitup.”
“Fuckthedress,”hegrowls,tryingtokissmeagain.
“It’sthenicestdressIownnow!It’llgetallwrinkledonthefloor.”
“Iwillbuyyouanotherdress,”heargues.
Thismakesmelaugh,theneedinessinhisvoicedoingallsortsofthingsformyego.
“Getonthebed,Mr.Reid.I’llberightback.”
“Oh,no.You’renotgoingallthewaybackdownstairs,”hesnorts.Henodshisheadtowardadoornearby.“Hangitinmycloset.”
Ileaveaquickpeckathismouth,hisfrustratedexpressionlikethatofatoddlerhavingatantrum—thetentedfrontofhispantssayingotherwise.Icrosstotheclosethastily,pullingopenthedoorsandflippingonthelightinsearchofahanger.
“Jesus,”Imutter.
Aiden’sclosetisasbigasmybathroomdownstairs.Inoticeemptyhangersnearthebackbeyondaseaofblackshirtsandgraysweatsanddarkdenim,steppingfurtherinsidetograbforoneasIstarttoshimmyoutofmydress.I’munclaspingmybraforgoodmeasuretosaveAidenthetroublewhenIspotsomethinginteresting,pausingforagoodsecondasanideapopsupinmyhead.IbitemylipasIconsider.
Woulditbesillyorsexy?Iwonder.
“Ifyoudon’tgetouthere,”Aidencallsimpatiently.“I’mgoingtocomefuckyouinthecloset.”
Ah,whatthehell.
IgrabthegarmentthatcaughtmyattentionfromahangerbeforeIcanchangemymind,puttingmyarmsthroughthesleeves.Hischefcoatisentirelytoobigforme,thehemhittingmidthighandthesleevesnearlycoveringbothmyhands,butwhenIturntothefloor-lengthmirroronthebackwallofhiscloset,Ihavetoadmitthattheoveralleffect—gappedfabricthathintsatmybreastsandleavestheblacklaceofmyunderwear(Iboughtnon-printedfortonight,thankyouverymuch)oncompletedisplay—isn’thalfbad.
ItryformybestJessicaRabbitimpressionwhenIstepoutofthecloset,backlitbythelightinsideasIslideonearmupthesideofthedoortoleanagainstit.Aidensitsupinbedwhenheseesme;he’sshuckedoffeverythingexcepthisunderwear,andhiseyesgowideastheyrakedowntheentirelengthofme.
“Ontoday’seditionofWhoWoreItBest…”Isaywithanervouslaugh.
Aidenisn’tlaughing.Infact,helooksdownrighttense.“Nocontest,”hesaystightly.Andthenwithacrookofhisfinger:“Comehere.”
ImanagetocrosstheroomwithouttrippingordoinganythingelsethatmightbreakthesexyvibeI’mgoingfor,crawlingupthebedtomeethimattheheadboardwherehe’srestingagainst(ofcourse)blackpillows.Hepullsmeoverhislapsothatmycorerestsdirectlyagainstthelengthofhimthatstrainsagainsthisunderwear;theheatmakingeverythingbetweenmylegstingle.Aiden’seyesfollowthemovementofhishandwhenheletshispalmrestflatovermybelly,watchingasheslidesithigherbetweenmybreaststopushopenthefrontofhiscoatsothatmychestisleftbare.
“Howareyousofuckingperfect?”
Iarchmybodysothatmynipplesgrazehischest,bothofusshudderingasIturnmyfacetopressalineofsoftkissesathisjaw.“Howareyounottouchingmeyet?”
“I’mtryingtodecidehowIwanttotouchyoufirst.”Hishandslidesovermyhiptodipinsidemyunderwearsohecanpalmmyass.“Withmyhands?”Heduckshisheadsothathistonguecancirclemynipple,drawingaquietgaspfromme.“Mymouth?”Hishandatmyasspullsmecloseragainsthim,closeenoughsothathecanrollhishipstolethiscockrubbetweenmylegs.“Somethingelse?”
Wordsarehardrightnow,butImanageabreathy,“Isthereanall-threeoption?”
“Thereisalwaysanall-threeoption,”hechucklesdryly.
Hisfingersfindanippletoteaseit,rollingitlanguidlyashismouthmeetsmine.Hiskissisquiet,evenlazy—asharpcontrasttotheneedyurgencyfromearlier.Almostlikehe’stakinghistime.Drawingitout,maybe.I’mtornbetweenurginghimtohurryupandrelishingthesensation.
Henibblessoftlyatmylowerlip,kissingthecornerofmymouthafter.“Iwatchedyouforsolong.”Anotherslow,lingeringkiss.“Iwasobsessed,Cassie.”
“Istoppeddoingprivateshowsattheend,”Iconfess.“Itwasonlyyours.”
Hiscocktwitchesbetweenmylegs.Helikesthat.“Youweresofuckingstunning.DoingeverythingItoldyoutodo.”
“Ilikedit,”Iwhisper.
Hepullsawaytolookatmewithdarkeyes.“Wouldyoulikeitrightnow?”
“What?”
“Ialwaysimaginedwhatyoulookedlike—whatyoureallylookedlike—whenyoucame.DoingwhatItoldyou.Canyoushowme?”
Mystomachflutterswithnervesandexcitement,andIbitemylipasIconsider.Theeagernessinhisexpressionmakestheideathatmuchmoreappealing,anditonlytakesmeasecondtocometoadecision,leaningtokisshimdeeply.
“Andwhatkindofshowwouldyouliketonight,A?”
Hisbreathisraggedwhenitpuffsagainstmymouth.“I’vethoughtaboutthatforafewdays,actually.”
“Mm.Haveyou.”
Hishandfumbleswiththenightstandbythebed,poppingopenthedraweranddigginginsideuntilhebringsoutalong,silkpouch.“Igotyouapresent.”
“Apresent?”
Hehandsmethepouch,watchingeagerlyasIloosenthedrawstringtoreachinside.Myfingersmeetsoft,velvetysiliconethatisalltoofamiliar,andheatdripsdownintomybellyanddeeperasIpulloutabrightpinkvibratorthatlooks…veryrealistic.
“Youshouldn’thave,”Imurmur.
IscootbackuntilI’mstraddlinghislegs,puttingenoughroombetweenussothathecanseeeverything.It’sbeenalongtimesinceI’vedonethis,butwithAidenwatching,itfeelseasiertoslipbackintoit.
Ipressthetipofthevibratorbetweenmybreasts,lettingittraildownmybelly.“I’mgladyou’reback,”Isaysweetly.“Imissedyou.”
TheeffectithasonAidenisimmediate.Hisbreathcomesharder,andhisnostrilsflareashisentirebodytenses.“Youmakeithardtostayaway.”
“Oh?”Icirclethetipofthevibearoundmynavel,makingsuretokeepeyecontact.“IsthatallImakehard?”
“Ilikeyouroutfit,”herasps.
Ismiledownatoneshoulderofhisjacket,reachingwithmyfreehandtopushitslightlyoff-kilter.“This?It’smyboyfriend’s.”
“Isit.”
“He’dbemadifheknewIwaswearingitforyou.”
InoticeAiden’sfistsclenchingathissidesasIstarttoteasethevibeclosertothewaistbandofmyunderwear,andIwonderhowlonghecanactuallykeepupwiththegame.“We’dbetternottellhimthen.”
“Youhaven’ttoldmewhatyouwant,A,”Isimper.“YouknowI’lldowhateveryouwant.”
“Really?”Hischestrisesandfallsroughly.“WhatifIwantyoutoteasethatprettylittlepussywiththattoythere?”
“Oh,this?”Islideithigher,makingalazypathupandovermysternumuntilIcanbringittomymouthtolickthetip.“Idon’tknow.DoyouthinkIcantakeit?”
“You’dbetter,”hegrindsout.“You’llneedtogetniceandsoftifyou’regoingtotakemelater.”
Mybreathhitches.“AmIgoingtodothat?Areyougoingtogivemeyourcocklater,A?”
“Wouldyoulikethat,Cici?Wouldyoulikemetosplityouopenonmycock?”
“Mm.”Idon’tstopasItrailthetoylowerthistime,lettingitslippastmyunderweartoslidethethickerheadthroughmyfolds,gettingitwet.“Thatsoundssomuchbetterthanthissillytoy.”
“Later,”hepromises,andIcannotdescribehowelateditmakesmetoknowthatthistime,therewillbealater.“TakeoffthosepantiessoIcanseehowwetyouare.”
Ittakesmaneuveringtogetmyunderwearoffinthisposition,butImanagetoworkthemdownmylegsenoughtodropthemontheothersideofthebedbeforeIreturntoastraddle.Iknowhecanseeeverythingnow,especiallywiththelightfromtheclosetstillcastingaglowinsidetheroom,andit’smademoreobviousbythewayhiseyeshomeinonthetoythatI’mstillteasingthroughthewetmessbetweenmylegs.
Icockmyhead.“Likethis?”
“Justlikethat,”hesaysroughly.“Alittleslower,maybe.”
Imakeslow,exaggeratedmovements,keepingmylegsspreadaswideasIcanmanagesothathedoesn’tmissanything.Themotionofmyhandiscausinghisjackettoslipfromoneshoulder,practicallyfallingoffmenow.
“Touchyournipplesforme,”Aidenmurmurs.“Teasethem.”
IclosemyeyesasIdowhatheasks,feelingstrangelypowerfulfromtherawneedinhisvoice.Likeit’stakingeverybitofrestrainthepossessesnottoreachoutandtouchme.HowhadIneverrecognizeditbefore?
“Canyouputitinside?Letmeseehowyoufuckyourself.”
IsuckinabreathasInudgetheheadofthetoyagainstmyentrance;itslipsineasilywithhowwetIam—nottomentionhowmuchsmalleritisthanAiden.Idon’tevenknowhowIcouldevergobacktothisafterhim.Istarttothrustitinandoutofmeslowly,slick,wetsoundsringingoutintheairasIcontinuetousemyotherhandtopinchmynipple.
“Ibetyourcockwouldbesomuchnicerthanthistoy,”Imusecoyly.“IwonderifIcouldeventakeallofyou?”
“Youcouldtakeeverything,”herasps.“I’dkeepyouonmycockfordaysifIcould,Cici.”
“Thatsoundsnice,”Ianswerairily.Ipushthetoydeeper.“Butfornow…Icanpretendthistoyisyou,ifyouwant.”
“Thenyou’regoingtoneedtofuckyourselfharderthanthat,Cici.Becausethat’swhatI’dbedoing.I’dbefuckingyouuntilyouwerescreamingforit.”
It’sgettingincreasinglyhardtokeepupwiththegame,especiallysinceIknowhowmuchbetteritwillbewhenheactuallytouchesme.
“CanIturnthevibrationon,A?Ineedalittlemore,”Ipout.
“Idon’tknow,”hesayscarefully.“Doyouthinkyou’vebeengoodenoughforthat?”
“I’vebeensogood,”Ibreathe.“Please,A?”
“Turniton,”hegrates.“Getthatprettypussygoodandreadyforme.”
Ifliponthevibe,tickingitupafewsettingsuntilthereisasteady,hummingvibrationdeepinsidemethatmakesmegasp.“Oh.”
“Doesitfeelgood,Cici?”
Inod,myeyesdriftingclosedasIfocusonthewaythetoymovesinandoutofme.“Mm-hmm.”
“YouthinkitfeelsbetterthanIwould?”
Ishakemyhead.“Youwouldfeelsomuchbetter.”
“Becauseyou’dpreferit,wouldn’tyou.Beingstuffedfullofme.”
“Yes,”Isigh.
“Tellmehowbadlyyouwantmycock,Cici.”
“Iw—ah.”Ihitthatplaceinsidethatmakesmeshudder,andmywriststartstoacheslightlyasItrytokeepupmypace.“Iwishitwasyou.IwishIwasfullofyouinsteadofthistoy.Ineedit,A.”
“Yeah?Canyoubegmeforit?Begmeformycock,Cassie.”
Myeyespeekopen,noticinghowutterlywreckedAidenlooks.Hischestisflushedred,andthereareslightveinsbulginginhisarmsfromthewayhe’sclenchinghisfistssohard.Hismouthisslackandhiseyesareheavy,andIdecidetoforgivehisslipup,tryingtofocusagainontheplay.
“Please,A,”Iwhisper,thrustingthetoyinsidejustalittleharder.“Pleasegivemeyourcock.”
“Idon’tbelieveyou.Areyousureyouwantit?”
MymouthfallsopenasIhitthatplaceagain,tremblingalloverasanorgasmbeginstobuild.“Ithinkaboutitallthetime.Howniceyou’dfillmeup.”Myheadlollsbackasmythighsshake,socloseIcanalmosttasteit.“Ibetyou’d—”Mybreathcatches,myhandsshaking.“Ibetyoucould—”
Itenseupwhenithitsme,notasallconsumingastheoneIknowAidencangivemebutenoughtoleaveathinsheenofsweatacrossmybody,toleavemeagaspingmess.WhenIcanfinallyopenmyeyesagain,IcanseethatAidenislookingatmelikeI’msomesortofmythicalthing,hisexpressionfullofwonderandaweandalittleofsomethingelsethatmakesmychesthurt.
“Fuck,Cassie.Howareyouso—”
“Cassie?”IsmileathimevenasI’mstrugglingtocatchmybreath.“Who’sthat?YouknowmynameisCici.”
“Cici,”hesaystightly.
“Doyouwishyoucouldtouchme,A?”Islipthetoyoutfrominside,turningoffthevibrationbutbringingtheheadtomybellytosmearsomeofmyfluidsthere.“Iwishyoucouldtouchme.”
Hisjawtenses.“Idon’tknowifIcandothis.”
“Oh?What’sthematter?Ithoughtyoulikedtowatchme?”
Hesurprisesmebypushingawayfromthepillows,crawlingovertomeetmeuntilhecanurgemetomyback.HebraceshishandsoneithersideofmyheadwhileI’msprawledbeneathhim.
“Aiden?”
“Ichangedmymind,”hetellsmeseriously,hiseyesonmine.“IwantCassie.”Heplucksthesleevefrommyarmtoslideitfurtherdown.“JustCassie.”Myheartstartstobeataheavycadenceinmychestasheurgesmeoutofhisjacket,tossingitaway.“AndIdon’twanttowatchanymore.”
Icanhardlybreathewhenhelowersagainstme,easingmeintoakissthatmakesmytoescurl.Histongueslipsinsidemymouthtolickagainstmine,andIclosemyeyesasmyskintinglesandmystomachflutters.Ifeelhishandmovetomyhiptosqueezethere,wanderingafter—upmyribsandundermybreastsandbackdownagainovermybellyuntilhecandipbetweenmylegs.
“You’resowet,”hemarvels.
Iletmyfingersgrazeagainsthiships,pullinghimcloser.“Becauseofyou.”
“Fuck.”
Thaturgencyisbackwhenhekissesme,buttherestofhisbodygoesslow.Heholdsmyhiptokeepmepinnedbeneathhim,rockingagainstmesothatIcanfeeltheheatofhiscockagainstmycenter.Thethinfabricofhisboxerbriefsfeelslikeentirelytoomuch,andIstarttotugatthemimpatiently,needingtofeelallofhim.HemanagestogethisunderwearoffwithlessdifficultythanIdid,andinonlyamatterofsecondshe’scompletelybareagainstme.
IsighintohismouthwhenIcanfeelhimagainstmycore,continuingthatslowruttingthathastheheadofhiscockbumpingagainstthemostsensitivepartofmewitheverystroke.
“Aiden,”Iwhisperbetweenkisses.“Aiden,canyou—”
Andlikehecanreadmymind,Ifeelthenudgeofhimagainstmyentrance,notchingagainstmebeforeslowlypushinginside.Heneverstopskissingmewhilehegivesmeinchafterinch,fillingmeinalazy,torturouswaysothatitfeelslikeforeveruntilI’mfull.It’ssomuchdifferentfromthetoy,somuchbetter,andagainIwonderhowIcouldeverbefullysatisfiedwithanythingotherthanthisnowthatI’vehadit.IhopeIneverhavetofindout.
Hisbodyagainstmineisawarm,satisfyingweight,andhislips,whichhavebeguntowanderagain,elicitlittlesparksagainstmyskinwherevertheytouch.Hedoesn’tmoveinsidemewhilehismouthpressesagainstmycheek,myjaw,downtomyneck—andafteramomentofthistorment,Istarttosquirmwithimpatience.
“Bestill,”hesays,notademandbutaplea.“Letmefeelyou.”
Igostillasheletsoutaraggedbreathagainstmythroat,kissingtheregentlyafterashishandslidesdownmythigh.Hishandcurvesaroundthebackofmykneetourgeitupward,pushingithightoopenmeupmoreashepullsuphisheadtolookatme.Histhroatbobswithaswallowashelooksatmethroughhoodedeyes,holdingmykneeagainstmychestandsmilingdreamilybeforehekissesmeagain.
Andthenhestartstomove.
Hedrawsbackhishipstopushbackinsideatthatsameslowpace,hislipsandtonguekeepingmetoodistractedtoevencomplainabouttheslowrhythm.NotthatIwantto.Everyslideinsidebringsadeliciousfriction,everyinchofhimtouchingeverypartofme.I’mstillsensitivefromtheorgasmIjustgavemyself,anditmeansthateverysenseisheightened,everytouchfeelslikesomuchmore
Ifeelhisarmsnakeundermyback,pullingmeagainsthimandpinningmykneeagainsthischest.Hefallstohiselbowonmyotherside,hismouthneverleavingmine.We’resoclosethatIcanfeelthebaseofhiscockrubbingagainstmewitheverythrust,atinglingpressurebuildingbetweenmylegsasherollshishipsagainstmineagainandagain.
Mythighstartstoburnwiththewayhehasitpusheduptowardmystomach,buttheanglemeanshehitsimpossiblydeepwitheverythrust,thepleasureofitoverridinganydiscomfort.Hiskissesarestuttered,likehe’shavingtroublekeepinghisfocus,hisheadfinallyburyingagainstmythroat,groaning.Iholdontohisshouldersashepicksupthepace,hisbreathwashinghotagainstmyneck
“Aiden,”Igasp,feelingthattinglingheatinsideswelltothepointofbursting.“Oh.Oh.I’m—”
“Areyougonnacome?”
Itrytonod.“Don’tstop.”
“Never.”Histhrustsareerraticnow.“FuckIneverwannastop.”
“Just—justkeep—rightthere.I’m—”
It’slikeashoweroffireworksburstingbehindmyeyesandallovermyskin,lightsandcolorsflashinginmyvisionasmyentirebodytenseswithmyorgasm.Aidenisstillmoving,hispantsgrowinglouderandrougheragainstmyear,andIslidemyfingersoverhisshoulders,leavingdazedkisseswhereverIcanreach.
Healsogoesstiffwhenhetumblesovertheedge,hisbigbodyshakingagainstmineandhiscocktwitchingdeep,deepinsidebeforehegoesslackagainstme.He’sheavyandentirelytoolargeforthis,butIliketheweightofhim.Ikeeppressingkissesagainsthisjawashetriestocatchhisbreath,shiveringwitheverypassofmyfingersagainsthisskin.
Hekeepsmecloseuntilhisbreathislessshallow,inhalingdeeplyjusttoblowitoutbeforehepullsoutofmewithawince.Hedoesn’tgofar,rollingslightlytothesidesohecankeepmecloseagainsthimwithoutcrushingmewithhisweight,andwatchingasIbringmyhandsuptoletthemrestundermyhead.Helooksspentlikethis;hisheadrestsononebicep,andtheotherisdrapedlazilyovermyhip,buthiseyesareexpressiveandbrightastheystudymyface.
Ibringthetipsofmyfingerstohismouth,tracingitsshapelightly.“Didyouknowthatthemostsensitivepartsofyourbodyareyourfingertipsandyourlips?”
“Yeah?”Hekissesmyfingertips.“SeemsprettysuggestiveforaSnapplelid.”
Hishanddriftsupmysideuntilhecanwraphisfingersaroundmyhand,turningittopressakissagainstmypalm.There’saghostofasmileathismouthwhenhelooksupatme,likehe’skeepingasecrethecan’tshare,anditfeelsinfectiouswiththewayithasmegrinningshylybackathim.
“Doyoueverwonderwhatwouldhavehappenedifwe’dmetupbackthen?”
Hismouthisstillgrazingmypalm.“Ifwe’dmetup?”
“Mm-hmm.Like,whatdoyouthinkwouldhavehappened?”
Hislaughisnothingmorethanaquickrushofairthroughhisnostrils,andheturnsmyhandagaintobrushhislipsagainstmyknuckles.“Ithinkwe’dberighthere.”
Butterfliesswarminmystomachandupintomychest,andforamomentitfeelslikeImightfloatawayifAiden’shandwasn’ttetheringmetohisbed.It’sanentirelynewfeeling,butnotoneIdislike.
“Thisstillfeelslikeadream,”Iwhisper.“IkeepthinkingI’llwakeup.”
Aidensmiles,andIdon’tevenhavetimetobefullytwitterpatedbyitbeforeherolls,bringinghimselfhalfontopofmeagain.“That’sfine,”hesays,eyesflickingtomymouthforamomentbeforehelowerstokissme.It’sslow,andsweet,andeverythingheis,andIcanfeelmylashesflutteringdazedlywhenhepullsaway.“Idon’tplanonlettingyousleeptonight,anyway.”
“Pervert,”Itease.
Icanfeelhimgrowingstiffagainstmythighwhenhekissesmeagain.“Don’tworry,”hemurmursagainstmymouth.“You’regoingtowakeuprighthereinmybed.”
Theweightofthatsentimentfeelsheavierthanhisbody,andIletitwraparoundmelikeablanketasImeltbackintohim,lettinghimdizzymewithhiskissandhistouchandeverythingelse.Chatwith@alacarte
MaybeIcouldholdarose.LiketheydoinTheBachelor.Soyou’dknowitwasme.
YouwatchTheBachelor?
Icanneitherconfirmnordenythatstatement.
CHAPTER23Cassie
Idreamaboutmyparentsthatnight,whichcomescompletelyoutofleftfield,consideringthatIhaven’tspokentothemsinceIlefthomeateighteen.IdreamaboutthedayIleft,aboutmydad’sdisappointedexpressionandmymom’sirateranting—afightIcanbarelyevenrememberanymore.Mom’sfaceisafuzzystaticthatmatchesDad’s,andevenifIsquint,Ican’tmakethemout.HaveIforgottenwhattheylooklike?
There’sanachethatcomeswiththedream,oneIhaven’tletmyselffeelforaverylongtime—somecrushinganxietyaboutbeingalone.Astiflingworrythatcomesfrombeingsuchadisappointmenttothetwopeoplewhoseloveshouldhavecomeeasy.
Ifeelmyfeetsinkingintothegrassoutsidemyhouseasmymother’svoicestartstofade,andpanicclawsatmychestasIstruggletoclimbbackout.IthrowoutmyarmsasIopenmymouthtoscream,butnowordscome,andIrealizethatthegroundisliterallygoingtoswallowmeupwithoutmebeingabletodoathingaboutit
ButthenIhearmyname,likeasoftsighonthewind,andstronghandsgraspminetopullmebackup.There’saflashofwarmbrownandgreenlookingbackatme,ablindingsmilethatcomeswithit.Hewhispersmynameagainandagain,andthepanicinmychestebbstosomebloomingheatthatmakesmetinglyallover
Cassie.
Cassie.
Cassie.
“Cassie.”
Iwaketosoftsheetsbeneathmeandsofterlipsatmyshoulder,groaningasIstretchmyarmstoshovethembeneaththepillowsasIcometo.Aiden’shandisrubbinggentlyagainstmyspineashislipscontinuetoleavebarelytherekissesatmyback.
Whataweirddream,Ithink.
NotthatIhavetimetodwellonit,humminglikeacontenthousecatwhenIfeelhismouthatmyscar,tracingoneside.
“Goodmorning,”hemumblesagainstmyskin.
Iyawn,turningmyfacesoIcanpeekbackathimfromovermyshoulder.“Whattimeisit?”
“Early,Ithink,”heanswers.“Myphone’sstillinmypants.”
“Mine’sdownstairs.”MovingsoundslikethelastthingIwanttodorightnow.“Howareyousochipperthisearly?”
Hegrinsbeforeheleanstokissmyshoulderagain.“Ihadagreatnight.”
“Butaren’tyouexhausted?”
“I’musedtorunningonlowsleep,”hesays.“You’rejustgivingmebetterincentive.”
Ittakesincredibleefforttorolltomyside,myeyesstillheavywithsleepasIpropmycheekagainstmyfist.Iknowthatlikethismybreastsarealmostfullyondisplay,andIwon’tpretenditisn’tintenselysatisfyingtoseeAideneyeingthemhungrily.
“Don’teventhinkaboutit,”Iwarnhim.“Iamoutofcommission.Mypoorvaginaisonstrike.IactuallythinkIhavetemporaryparalysisdownthere.”
“Ihighlydoubtthat,”hechuckles.“Idon’trememberhearinganyofthesecomplaintslastnight.”
“IwillnotbeheldaccountableforthingsIdidorsaidmid-orgasm.”
Helaughsagain,closingthedistancebetweenustokissmeinstead.“Isthisallowed?”
“Aslongasyoubehave,”Imurmur,leaningintoit.
Aidensighsagainstmymouthbeforehisforeheadcomestorestagainstmine.“Weneedtogetup.I’msureWandaisreadytoputSophieoutonthestreetbynow.”
“Doubtit,”Itellhim.“WhenIcalledheronthewayhomelastnight,shesaidSophiewasstillhustlingheratcards.Wandaprobablywon’tevenletherleaveuntilshegetsbackonawinningstreak.”
“MaybeWandawillmakepancakesforbreakfastsoSophiecanaddonemorepersontothelistofpeoplemakingthemthatsheprefersoverme.”
“Wow,someone’sbitter.”
Aidenscoffs.“I’mnotbitter.”
“Sureyouaren’t.”Ifalltomyback,stretchingmyarmsovermyheadagain.“Youmighthavetocarrymedownstairs.”
“OnlyifIcandoitwhileyou’renaked.”
“Fine.I’mgettingup.Ineedsomewater,anyway.”
Iswingmylegsoverthesideofthebed,feelingaburninginmythighsandanachinginmyback—butallofitbringsbackmemoriesofhowIgotsosoretobeginwith,makingmenotmindsomuch.AidenisstretchinginbedbehindmewhenIpickupthediscardedwhiteT-shirthe’dbeenwearingunderhisbutton-downlastnight,pullingitovermyhead.Itdwarfsme,butIfigureit’lldoforatripdownstairsforsomewater.
IcanhearhimrollingoutofbedasIleavetheroom,turningmyneckbackandforthtoloosenitupasIheadtowardthestairs.ThehouseismuchquieterwithoutthesoundofSophiemillingabout;usuallyIcanhearthesoundsofherSwitchormaybeevenEncantoplayingforthedozenthtime,andIrealizethatasamazingasmynightwithAidenwas,Imissthelittlegremlin.
IgrababottleofwaterfromthefridgeasIcheckthetimeontheoven.It’sonlyeightinthemorning,whichisnormallyaroundthetimeSophiewakesup,sobythetimewegetdressedandontheroad,IimagineSophiewillbebouncingoffthewallsofWanda’skitchen.Ilaughatthethought;IcanalreadyhearWandapretendingtobeputoutbySophie’senergy.
I’vejustfilledmyglassandbroughtittomymouthforadrinkwhenIhearthuddingfootstepscomingdownthestairs—heavyandurgentalmostasifAiden’srunning.AndthenIhearhimtalking.
“No,ofcourse,”hesaysinatighttone.“I’llbethereimmediately.AndSophie,isshe—?Right.Yes.Yes,Iknow.Heraunt?Isshethere?That’s—”Aidenstopsatthebottomofthestairs,grippinghisphonetightlyinhishandandclosinghiseyesashisotherhandmakesafistathisside.“Okay.I’mgladSophieisn’talone.Yes.I’llbethereinfifteenminutes.”
Isetmyglassonthecounterwhenhehangsup,watchingashestaresatthefloorforamoment,lookinglost.Imovequicklytohissidetotrytogethisattention,bringingmypalmtohisjawtoforcehimtolookatme.“Hey,what’swrong?”
Aidenblinksatmelikehe’sonlyjustnowseeingme;hismouthpartingandhiseyessearchingmyfaceasifhe’stryingtofindwhatheshouldsay.“Cassie,it’s—”
“Didsomethinghappen?”Icanfeelworrycreepingintomylimbslikeachill.“IsSophieokay?”
“She’sfine,”Aidenassuresme,reachingtowraphishandsaroundmywrists.“She’sokay.It’s…”Hislipspresstogether,hisexpressionpained.“It’sWanda.”
Everypartofmegoescold.“What?”
“Wanda,she…”Heswallows,anditlookslikehe’drathersayanythingelsethanwhathe’sabouttosaytome.“Wandahadaheartattack.”
Idon’tsayawordasIruntomyroomtochange.
—
Ilearnmoredetailsaboutwhathappenedonourdrivetothehospital;sometimeearlythismorning,WandastartedhavingchestpainsandwokeSophieup.Sophiecalled911atWanda’sinstructionbeforesheinevitablypassedout,whichleftaterrifiedSophiealone,tryingtogetaholdofus.
Andourphoneswereforgottenonthefloorsomewhere.
TheguiltIfeelispalpable,andIcanonlyimaginethatAidenfeelsthesame,ifnotworse.Hisknucklesremainedstarkwhiteagainstthesteeringwheeltheentiredrivetothehospital,andhedoesn’tutterawordthewholewaythere.IknowthatweweretoldthatWandaisstable,andthattheworstisbehindher,butstill.Ifeelthatloomingsenseofdreadattheideaofthefirstpersontoreallylovemelyinginthehospital.
Whenwefinallyarrive,IhavetosprinttokeepupwithAidenaswerushdownthecorridorofthefloorWandaison,andwhenwefinallyroundthecornernearWanda’sroomtospotatired-lookingSophieclingingtoherauntIris,Ifeelequalpartsrelievedandterrified.Sophiedoesn’tnoticeusatfirst,sittingnexttoIrisonabenchinthehallasIrislooksstraightaheadwithanangryexpression.Iknowthisisn’tgoingtogowell.
Irisnoticesusfirst,turningherheadatthesoundofourfootstepsandglaringatthepairofusasshetightensherarmaroundSophie’sshoulders.“Niceofyoutofinallyjoinus.”
Aidenignoresher,goingstraighttoSophietocrouchinfrontofher.Hereachesouttocupherface,forcinghereyestomeethis.“Areyouokay?”
“Yeah,”Sophiemumbles,herlittleliptrembling.“Wanda’ssick.Itriedtohelp,butshe—shefellasleep,andIcouldn’twakeherup.”
“Shh,”Aidensoothes,looseningIris’sgriponhisdaughterandpullingSophieintohisarms.“Youdidamazing.It’snotyourfault.I’msorrywedidn’tanswerthephone.”
Irislookslivid,herexpressiondarkerthanI’veeverseenitassheglancesbetweenthepairofuswithwhatcanonlybedescribedascontempt.“Howcouldyouleaveherwithanelderlywomanandthenjustignoreyourphoneallnight?”
“Ididn’thearitgooff,”Aidenanswerstightly.Icantellhe’sdoinghisbesttoremaincivil,butIcanalsosensehowstressedheisrightnow.“Itwasamistake.”
“Amistake,”Irissnorts,movingtostandasshegesturesbetweenus.“Iwonderwhythatis?Doyouthinkthatmaybeit’sbecauseyoudecidedtogooff”—shegivesmeadeliberatelookthatisanythingbutpleasant—“andhavefunonyourown?”
Ifeelmystomachtwistwithmoreguilt,hatingthatI’mthereasonhe’sbeingberatedrightnow.IrisislookingatmelikeI’msomethingsheistryingtoscrapeoffhershoe,andAiden’swearyexpressionmakesmefeelprettyequivalenttothat.IcanseeeverybitofgroundI’vegainedwithIrisblowingawaylikedustinthewind,everyvictorycirclingdownthedrain.It’salloverherfacethatsheblamesmeforthisjustasmuchifnotmorethanAiden.
“Iris,itwasn’thisfault,itwas—”
“Justdon’t,”Irispracticallyspits.“Youknow,youreallyhadmefooled.Ithoughtyoucaredabouther.Butyouwerejusttryingtogetsomethingelse.Weren’tyou.”
Irearbackasifshe’sslappedme,andIhearAidentakeadeepbreath.HesmilesatSophie,reachingintohiswallettopulloutafewbillsandhandingthemovertoher.“Whydon’tyougogetyourselfsomethingfromthevendingmachine?It’srightdownthehall.”Hepointstothelargemachineattheendofthehallwaywe’restandingin.“I’msureyou’rehungry.”
Sophienodssolemnly,takingthebillsandlookingwarilybetweenthethreeverytenseadultssurroundingherbeforesheshufflesoff.
IrisislookingatmeagainlikeI’mgarbage,anditmakesmyfacehotwithembarrassment.ItfeelslikeI’vedeludedmyselfintothinkingthatweweremakingprogress,becausewithonemistakeit’sallcrumblingaway.
Aiden’svoiceiscautiouswhenhespeaksagain.“Hey,I’mgladyouwerehereforSophie,but—”
“OfcourseI’mhereforSophie,”Irishisses.“I’malwayshereforSophie.Whichisexactlywhysheshouldbewithme.”ShepokesafingeratAiden’schest.“YouleftSophiewithanelderlywomanyoubarelyknowsoyoucouldrunoffandfuckyournanny.Whatthehellwereyouthinking?”
IcanfeeltheairrushingfrommylungslikeI’vejusthadthewindknockedoutofme.Thewayshesaysitmakesitsoundlikesomedirty,cheapthing—likeI’msomeoneAidenpickedupforaquicklay.Itmakesmefeeldirty,hearingitsaidlikethat.
Aidenlookslivid,aticinhisjawasifit’stakingallofhisrestraintnottocompletelytearIrisanewasshole.“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’retalk—”
“Actually,IthinkIdo,”Irislaughsderisively.“I’veturnedablindeyetoit,becauseIthoughtshecaredaboutSophie,butit’sclearthatshecaresmoreaboutyou.Apparently,Sophieisjustanafterthoughttothebothofyou.”
“Iris,”Aidensaystightly.“Don’tyoudare—”
“Don’ttellmewhattodo,AidenReid,”sheseethes,clearlykeyeduptothepointofnoreturn.“Isitbackandwatchyoubumbleyourwaythroughtryingtobeafather,andIhavedoneeverythingIcantotryandhelpyou,tofindasolutionthat’sactuallyinSophie’sbestinterest.Butyou’vebeensowrappedupinyourownego,you’venevereventriedtoconsiderwhatmightbebestforher.Whichisclearlynotlivingwithyou.”
“Myegohasnothingtodowithit,”hesnapsback.“Sophieismychild,notyours,andyou’renotgoingtosithereandtellmethat—”
“Idon’thavetosithereandtellyouanything,”shesayswithahumorlesslaugh.“Icantellittoajudge,instead.Ithinkonemightfindthisentiresituationextremelyinteresting.”
Thatpanicisback,scratchingatmychestfromtheinsidelikeitmightburstrightoutofmeatanysecond.“Wait,”Iinterject.“Iris.I’msosorry.Thisismyfault.IwouldneverdoanythingtohurtSophie.I’mtheonewhosuggested—”
“Idon’tcare,”Irisinterrupts,hereyeswildandwetwithunshedtears.“TheonlythingIcareaboutismyniececallingmecompletelyterrifiedthismorningfromthebackofanambulancebecauseherfatherwouldn’tpickupthephone.Allbecausehewasgettinghisdickwet.”
“That’senough.”Aiden’sfaceisred,ahardnesstohiseyesI’veneverseenbefore.“Getthefuckoutofhere,Iris.Rightnow.”
“Youcan’ttellmewhatto—”
“Ifyoudon’tleaveatthisverysecond,”hesaysdarkly,“I’mgoingtogostraighttothecourthousetomorrowandfilearestrainingorder.Doyouwanttospendthemoneyitwilltaketofightthat?”
Shenarrowshereyes.“Andyouthinkthatwillstick?”
“Doyouwanttofindout?”
AsecondpassesbetweenthemasIstandbythewayside,silentandstunned.
“Fine,”Irissaysfinally.“Butthisisn’tover,Aiden.I’veknownfromthebeginningyouweregoingtofuckup.Ijusthadtobidemytimeandwaitforittohappen.”Shepausesmidstepbesidemetoregardmedirectly,herexpressionamixtureofdisappointmentandhurtandrageallrolledintoone.“Ihopeyouwereworthit.”
AidenstaresatsomespotonthewallbehindherasIrisstompsoff,andIturnmyheadtocatchhertellingSophiegoodbyeattheendofthehall.IreachforAiden,todowhat,Idon’tknow—comforthim,maybe—butIdrawmyhandback,battlingwithsomestrangefeeling.
Ihopeyouwereworthit.
SuddenlyeverygoodfeelingI’vehadinthelasttwenty-fourhoursdrainsaway,leavingnothingbutworryandguiltandshameinitswake.Ihadn’tconsideredbeforethismomentwhatitmightmeanforAideninthelongrun,thetwoofusbeingtogether—hadn’tevenentertainedthethoughtofwhatpeoplemightsayabouthim,forlackofabetterexpression,fuckinghisnanny.
Aidenfinallylooksdownatme,amultitudeofdifferentemotionsplayingoutinhisfeatures.Fear,anger,regret—it’sallthere.Butwhat’sworsethanthat,Ithink,isthatflickerofdisappointmentinhiseyes.Idon’tknowwhoit’sfor,himormeorjustthissituation,butitrousesallsortsofoldemotionsfromdayswhenI’dbeenalltoofamiliarwiththislook.It’spracticallytheonlyonemyparentsevergaveme.
I’dbeenaburdentothemtoo.
“I’msorry,”Iwhisper,stillfeelingthatickysenseofguilt.
Aidenshakeshishead.“Thisisn’tyourfault,Cassie.”
Yes,itis.Howcanitnotbe?
Iwanttocry,butIforcemyselftoholdittogether.
“Imadeamistake,”hesaysflatly,lookingdownatthefloor.“AndI’lldealwithit.”
Amistake?Doeshemeanme?Ican’tbringmyselftoask.Iswallowaroundagrowinglumpinmythroat,tryingtofindwordsbutcomingupshort.
“YoushouldcheckonWanda,”hetellsme,hisexpressiononeofdefeatandfatigue.“I’lltakeSophiehome.”
He’spushingyouaway.
Partofmethinkshewouldn’t,butthatpartisbeingshushedbyaveryloud,patheticvoicerightnow.
“Okay,”Isayquietly.“Yeah.You’reright.”
“I’llseeyouathome,”hesays,tryingforasmilebutnotquitemanagingit
Inodashepatsmyshoulder,thegestureholdingnoneofthewarmththatIfeelhewouldhavegivenmebeforethis.Itonlymakesmefeelworse.IwatchhimgoandjoinSophie,whohastakenresidenceonabenchfurtherdownthehall,andshecastsaglancebacktowardmewhenshestartstoleavewithAiden,wavingfeebly.
Ireturnitwithasmile,butlikeAiden’s,itdoesn’tmeetmyeyes.
—
SeeingWandahookeduptomachinesonlyworsensmydarkeningmood.Thenursesaidthatthemedstheygaveherwouldmakehersleepy,andshe’sbeenoutforagoodhour,butI’mdeterminedtowaituntilshewakesup.Myphone’sbeendeadsinceweleftearlier,aby-productofleavingitoffthechargerallnight.AnothermistakeI’vemadeinthelasttwenty-fourhours.
IleanmyheadbackagainstthewallofWanda’sroom,rubbingatmyarmstofightthechillofthehospital.I’vehadnothingtodoforthelasthourexceptreplaytheconfrontationwithIrisoverandover—relivingherangrywordsandSophie’sworriedfaceandAiden’sdefeatedexhaustionagainandagain.
Imadeamistake.
Maybehedidn’tmeanme,Ikeeptellingmyself.Maybehewasreferringtothissituation.I’mnotevensurethatitmatters.Regardlessofhowweendedupherethismorning,IknowdeepdownthatIhavenowcompletelybecomesomethingIrishastuckedawayinherarsenaltouseinherunyieldingfighttotakeSophie.I’mnowthebiggestpieceofammoshehas,itseems.AndhowinthehelldoIlivewiththat?
Ihopeyouwereworthit.
Ipresstheheelsofmyhandsagainstmyeyes,breathinginandoutastearsthreatentogatherthere.ItfeelslikeI’magainstawall,stuckbetweenwhatIwantandwhat’sbestforthislittlefamilyIcareaboutsomuch.WillIalwaysbeastumblingblockforthem?JustsomethingtobeusedagainstAiden?WhathappenswhenIristakeshimtocourtandhedecidesI’mnotworththetrouble?It’snotlikehewouldchoosemeoverSophie,andIwouldn’twanthimifhewould.HalfthereasonIlovehimisbecauseofhowdevotedheistoSophie.
Ipullmyhandsfrommyeyes,blinkingupattheceilinginadaze.
DoI…lovehim?
Therealizationhitsmelikeabagofbricks,butinsteadofelation,Ionlyfeelmoredread.IfIloveAiden,andwekeepgoingasweare—he’llgetsodeepinthisthingwithmethathewillstubbornlyhangonlongafterI’veproventobebadforhimandSophie.Orwhat’sworse,he’lltossmeaside.Bothoptionsmakemychesthurt,andIknowthatgoingthrougheitherwouldbreakmetopieces.
Ican’tescapethesicksuspicionthatthelongerIstay,themoreofaburdenI’llbecomeforthem.
“Youlooklikeshit.”
Isitstraightup,seeingWandasquintingatmefromherbed.
“OhmyGod,you’reawake,”Isaywithrelief,pushingoutofmychairtogotoherbedside.“Howareyoufeeling?”
“Eh.Theydidn’thavetoopenmeup,atleast.I’msurethey’llbeonmyassaboutchangingmydietafterthis.”
“Whichyouwillbedoing.”
“Mymamahasbeendeadforyears,girl.Quittalkinglikeyou’reher.”
Despiteeverything,thismakesmelaugh.“Youscaredtheshitoutofme,Wanda.Ineedyoutoliveforatleastanothertwentyyears.”
“Lord,Ihopenot,”shegrumbles.“How’dyousneakinhereanyway?”
“ToldthemIwasyourgranddaughter.”
“Slick.Realslick.”
Ifrown.“Seriously,areyouokay?”
Shegivesmeatiredsmile.“Itoldyouthatyouweregonnagivemeaheartattackoneofthesedays.”Hersmiledissipatesatmycrumpledexpression.“Oh,stopit.”Shestrugglestositupinbed,andIputahandbehindherbacktohelpherup.“I’mnotdeadyet.”Shelooksworriedthen.“Where’sSophie?”
“Aidentookherhome.”Justthementionofbothofthemmakesmychestthrob.“Howmuchdoyouremember?”
Wandashrugs.“Itoldhertocall911whenIstartedhavingchestpains.Shedidrealgood.There’sbitsandpiecesfromtheambulancebutnothingmuchafterthat.”
“Shecouldn’tgetintouchwithus,”Isayguiltily.“Webothforgottokeeptrackofourphoneslastnight.”
Wandachuckles.“Imagineyouweretoobusyshakingthesheets.”
“Itisn’tfunny!Webothfeellikeshit.SophiehadtocallherauntIris.”
“Damn.Thatharpythatkeepsbotheringyourfellow?Thatsoundslikeafuntime.”
“Itwasawful,Wanda.ThewayshetoreintoAiden…”Icanfeelmyeyeswelling,andIhavetotakeamomenttostaveitoff.“Shethreatenedtotakeittoajudge.”
“Oh,lether.She’sjustbeingbitter.”
“ShethreatenedAidenbecauseofme,Wanda.Ifhehadn’tbeenwithmelastnight…”
“ThenImightbedeadforallweknow,”Wandasaysassertively.“Thatgirlsavedmydamnedlife.That’showfateworks,girl.”
“Iknowthat,butifIhadn’t—”
“Shutthatshitup,”shesays,cluckinghertongue.“Quittryingtoputthisonyou.Itisn’tyourfaultIgotashittyticker.”
“Idon’tknowwhattodo,”Iadmitquietly,thosetearsI’dbeenwillingawayarepoolingatthecornersofmyeyesandthreateningtospill.“IfIstaywiththem,she’sgoingtouseitagainstAiden.”
“Thehelldoyoumean‘ifIstay’?Youaren’tthinkingofleaving,areyou?”
“I—”Iswallowthickly,feelingasingletrickleovermycheek.“Ican’tbethethingthatruinsthingsforthem.Idon’t—”Isuckinabreath,tryingtochokebackasob.“Idon’twanttobesomeone’sburden.Notagain.”
Wandaisquiet,watchingasIhangmyheadandwipemyeyes.Somanyemotionsarehittingmeallatonce,andIfeelevenshittiersittingherewhiningaboutmyproblemswhenWandajustlivedthroughadamnedheartattack.Shewaitsformetocalmdown,waitsforthesnifflingtostopasIstareatmyknees.
“Youdone?”
Ishrugnoncommittally,wipingmynose.“Iguess.”
“HowmanytimeshaveItoldyouthatnoteveryoneislikeyourparents?I’mprettysurethosetwowereactuallyassembledinsomekindaangrydickfactory.Itwasneveryourfault.”
“Wasn’tit?Theyneverwantedme.AllIeverdidwascauseproblemsforthem.Theyhaven’tcalledmeonce,Wanda.Notonceinsevenyears.Theywereecstatictoseemego.Howcanthatnotbemyfault?”
“Becausethey’reshitty,selfishpeople.Yourparentsshouldn’thavebeenparents.Especiallytosomeoneasspecialasyou.Theywerebitterpeoplewithbitterliveswhoturneduptheirnosesatabeautifulgiftinsteadofappreciatingit.”
“Idon’tknow…”
“Youthinkrunningawayisgoingtosolvethings?Itwon’tstopthatladyfromhoundingthatfamily.Stubborndoesn’tquitataroadblock,Cassie.Itfindsanotherdamnedroad.”
“I’msorry,”Isaypitifully.“Ican’tbelieveI’msittingherecomplainingafterthenightyouhad.”
“Myonlyotheroptionwouldbesomegrainy-asssoapopera,”shesays,wavingmeoff.
“Still.”
“Don’tshootyourselfinthefoot,honey.Youcanhavegoodthings,butyouhavetoletyourselfhavethem.”
Whatshe’ssayingsoundsreasonable,orrather,itwould,toamorereasonableperson.Idon’tfeelveryreasonablerightnow.Ifeelangryandsadandmostlyjust…beat.LikeI’mtrappedinacornerwithonlyonewayout,butthewayoutispavedwithrustyrailroadspikes.
IwipemyeyesagainforgoodmeasureasIhearthedoortoherroomopening,somechippernursesteppinginsidetogreetusbothasshegushesoverWandabeingawake.Thenursementionssomethingaboutvitalsandtests,andeventhoughWandadoesn’tsayit,Icanhearthedismissalinhervoice.
“I’llcomebacklater,”ItellWanda.“Don’tbemeantothenurses.”
Wandarollshereyes.“Haven’tbitoneyet,atleast.”
IfIdidn’tfeellikeshit,Iwouldlaughatthelookthenursegivesher.
“YourememberwhatIsaid,”Wandaremindsme.“Don’tdoanythingstupid.”
Inod,butevenasIdoit,Iknowit’salie.IwalkoutofWanda’sroomwithaheavyweightonmyshoulders,beggingmyeyestokeepthetearsinuntilIcanfindaquietspotoutsidetohostapitypartybeforeItrytoflagdownacab.BecauseIcan’tbethethingthatstandsbetweenAidenandSophie.Iwon’tallowthattohappen.NomatterhowmuchI…careaboutthem.Bothofthem.
They’llbebetteroffifIdoitnow,beforewegettoodeep.Beforewereachsomepointthatwecan’tturnbackfrom.BeforeAidenrealizesthatIwasneverworthitinthefirstplace.Ican’tsaywhetherornotthedecisionI’vecometoisstupid,but…Iknowit’sgoingtohurtlikehell.I’veneverbeensonervousinmyentirelife.I’vebeenwaitingforthisdayforweeks,eversincewedecidedtomeetinperson.It’sridiculousthatIwouldbesoterrifiedofadateatmyage,andyetI’vecheckedmyhairthreetimes,I’vechangedmyoutfitatleastfive.
Myhandsitchtotouchher,andI’mdesperatetohearhervoice,hearherforreal.
AndtodayIfinallycan.
Icheckmyappearanceonemoretimeinthehallmirror,joltingwhenmyphoneringingfromthekitchencounterdistractsme.IfrownwhenInoticewho’scalling—there’sabsolutelynoreasonforRebecca’ssistertobecallingme.
Dreadsettlesintomystomach.CouldsomethingbewrongwithSophie?
Ianswerthecall,bringingittomyearwithbatedbreath.“Iris?”
CHAPTER24Aiden
Sophiedoesn’tsayawordtheentireridehome.I’vetoldherthreetimessincewelefthowsorryIamthatIdidn’tanswerhercall;Ican’tevendescribehowmuchofafailureasafatherIfeelknowingthatshespenthoursonherownwithoutanyonetocomforther.It’sleftmewithapitinmystomachsincethemomentIsawhersittinginthathallwaylookingmoredesolatethanI’veeverseenher.
She’squietwhenwegethome,too,trudginguptwoflightsofstairstowardherroomwhileclaimingtobetired,andIwarwithmyselfonwhetherornotIshouldgiveherspaceorbeghertotalktome.AtthispointIhavenoideawhichcourseofactionwillmakethingsbetter,iftheywillatall,butintheendIdecideshe’sspentenoughtimeonherowntoday.
Ifollowherintoherbedroomandhelphertakeoffhershoesasshesitsattheedgeofherbed,staringdownatmewithunseeingeyes.IsitbesideherafterIhelphersettleunderthecovers,noticingherdarkcircles.
“Sophie,I’msosorry,”Itellheragain,wishingIhadsomewaytomakethisright.“Ishouldhavebeenthere.Ifeelhorriblethatyouhadtogothroughthatalone.”
Sophieshrugs.“It’sokay.”
“It’snot,Soph,”Istress,leaningtopressmyhandtoherhair.“I’msupposedtoprotectyou.It’smyjobtomakesureyoudon’teverfeellikethis,andIdidn’tdoagoodjob.I’mgoingtodoeverythingIcantomakesureInevermessuplikethisagain.”
“I’mnotmadatyou,”shetellsmequietly.
Ishakemyhead.“Iwouldbemadatme,ifIwereyou.”
“I’mnot,”sheassuresme.“Promise.”
“Butyou’renotokay,”Iurge.“Talktome.Letmehelp.”
Shenuzzlesintoherpillow,shuttinghereyesandsqueezingthemtightastearscollectthere.“Wandawashurt,”shesayspitifully.“Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Ithoughtshewasgonnadie.”
“Oh,honey.”Icarefullycrawloverher,settlingbehindherinherbedandpullingherbackagainstmychesttoholdhertight.Sheturnstoburyherfacethere,andIrestmycheekagainstherhair.“Youdidamazing,Soph.Todaywasscary.Wayscarierthananythingyoushouldeverhavetogothrough.Butyoudidgreat.Sogreat.YousavedWanda’slife.Doyouunderstand?”
Ican’tseeherfacenow,butIfeelhernoddingagainstmychest.“Issheokay?”
“Theytoldusshe’sgoingtobefineaftersomerest,”Itellher.“Cassieiswithherrightnow.”
“DoyouthinkCassieismadatme?”
“What?”Iturnmyfacedowntolookather.“Ofcoursesheisn’t.Cassiecouldneverbemadatyou.Shelovesyou.”
Sophie’svoiceissofternow.“Idon’twantCassietogetmadandleave.”
“Sophie.”Ifeelasqueezingsensationinmychest.“Isthatwhat’sgotyousoworried?That’snotgoingtohappen.”
“Youpromise?”
“I’mgoingtodomyverybesttomakesurethatneverhappens.”
“IloveCassietoo,”shewhispersintomyshirt.
IclosemyeyesasIrubherback,leavingsoothingcirclestheretokeephercalmandcomfortable.Ittakesawhileforherbreathingtoevenout,butIcantellwhenshedriftsofftosleep,herbodygoinglimpinmyarmsasthetensionofthemorningfinallygetsthebestofher.Ikeepmyarmsaroundherevenaftershefallsasleep,takingadvantageofthisquietmomentasIthinkaboutourexchange.
Ican’timaginewhatSophiefeltwhenshewasalonewithWanda—unabletoreachmeorCassieandnothavinganyideawhattodo.Thepanicshemusthavefeltleavesmeamessinside,rackedwithguiltandoutrightshamefornothavingbeenthereforher.Especiallywithhowamazinglastnightwas,howhappyIwasupuntilthemomentIsawallofthemissedcalls.Thingsfeltfuckingperfectupuntilthatpart.NowIjustfeellikeshit.
There’sanadditionalguiltontopofeverythingelseforhavingleftCassieatthehospital,butIhadn’tknownwhatelsetodo.I’msurethatCassieunderstandshowmuchSophieneededme,howdistractedIwasbyeverythinggoingon—butitdoesn’teasetheguilt.
AndIris.FuckingIris.
She’sneverlikedme,notwhenRebeccagotpregnant,notwhenwetriedtomakethingswork,notwhenwedecidedwewerebetterapart—especiallynotwhenmylifegotsohecticafterIgotmycurrentjob.EverythinghadonlygottenathousandtimesworseafterRebeccapassedandSophiecametome.Nowit’slikeIris’sentirelife’smissionistoprovemeanunfitparent.AndhereIam,havinghanddeliveredtheknifeshe’sbeenlookingfortostabinmyback
Whatafuckingmess.
IkeepthinkingaboutCassie’sfaceatthehospital—hercrestfallenlooktellingmethatshewasblamingherselfforIrisgoingofftherails.Ishouldhavedonemoretoassureher,Iknowthat,butwithSophielookingnearlycatatonic,allIcouldthinkaboutwasgettingherhomeandsafeandherselfagain.IplantothoroughlyapologizetoCassiewhenevershemakesitback.NotthatIhaveanyideawhenthatwillbe,sinceherphoneisdead.
IloveCassietoo.
It’stheonlypartofthiswholemessgivingmeanylevelofhappiness.Sophie’squietadmission.ThewayCassielovesmydaughter,thewaySophielovesherback—itmakesmefeelthingsI’veneverfeltbefore.MakesmeimagineallsortsofthingsIhavenobusinessimaginingwithCassieafterourshorttimetogether,evenwithourstrangesharedhistory.Still.Iimaginethemallthesame.
IpullSophietighter,shuttingoutthebuzzinginmyhead.There’stimetofigureallofthisoutlater,preferablyonadaywhenweallhaven’tbeenputthroughtheringer.Iclosemyeyes,yawningasIsilentlyassuremyself.
Wehaveplentyoftime.
—
Idon’tknowwhenIdozedoff,butSophieisstillsleepingsoundlybesidemeinherbedwhenIwake,soIrollawaygentlytoletherkeepresting.IyawnasIscratchthebackofmyneck,grabbingmyphonefromherbedsidetablewhereI’dstashedittocheckthetime.It’safterlunch,butthereisstillnothingfromCassie.Iwonderifthatmeansshe’sstillatthehospital.
IfrownasItuckitinsidethepocketofmyjeans,notlikingthefactthatIhaven’theardfromher.Iknowherphonewasdeadwhenweleft,butIwashopingshemightcallfromtheroomatleasttogiveanupdate.Iimagineshe’sbusywithWanda,tellingmyselfshe’llcheckinwhenshehasasparemoment.IdecidetodistractmyselfwithlunchwhileIwait,figuringIcanletSophiesleepuntilI’vewhippedsomethingup,atleast.
IcloseherbedroomdoorquietlybehindmewhenIleaveherroom,steppingcarefullydownthehallsoasnottomakeanynoise.I’mhalfwaydownthestairsbeforeInoticeanythingamiss,pausingonlythreestepsfromthelandingwhenI’msurprisedbythesightofCassieonmycouch,herheadinherhands.
“Cassie?”
Shelooksupatmeimmediately,hereyesredandherfacehaggard,likeshe’sbeencrying.Seeinghersooutofsortsmakesmeuneasy,andIhurrydownthelastfewstepstocrossthelivingroom.
“Hey,”Isaysoothingly,sittingbesideheronthecouch.“Whendidyougetback?HowisWanda?”
She’slookingatmestrangely,hereyeslingeringoverthelinesofmyfaceevenasherlipquivers.Shesnifflesonceasshenods,everythingaboutitstiff.
“She’sfine,”shetellsme.“They’regoingtokeepherforafewdaysforobservation.”
Isighinrelief.“That’sgoodnews,right?Youknewshewastootoughtoletsomethinglikethisgetthebestofher.”
“Yeah,”sheanswersquietly.“She’lloutliveusboth.”
Somethingaboutherflattoneisunsettling,andit’sobviousthatsomethingisstillweighingonher.“Issomethingelsebotheringyou?What’swrong?”
“We—”Sheswallows,clearingherthroatlikeshe’shavingtrouble.“Weneedtotalkaboutwhathappenedatthehospital.WithIris.”
Shit.
IsqueezemyeyesshutasIhuffoutafrustratedbreath.“Fuck,Cassie.I’msorry.Sheshouldn’thaveeverspokentoyoulikethat.Ishouldhavedonemore,buteverythingwasso—”
“It’snotyourfault,”shesaysurgently.Shereachesherhandtolayitovermineagainstmyknee.“Noneofthisisyourfault.”
“IknowIcouldn’thavepredictedhowthismorningwouldplayout,butitdoesn’tmeanIdon’tfeelterribleaboutthethingsshesaidtoyou.Ihatethatyougotdraggedintomybullshit.”Itrytosmilethen,mostlybecauseI’mdesperatetoseesomeexpressiononherfaceotherthanthemelancholynothingshe’sgivingmenow.“Strangeendingtoagreatnight.”
Shedoesn’tsmile;infact,hereyeswaterasifshemightcryagain.
“Cassie.”Ileanintocupherfacewithmypalm.“Pleasetalktome.Tellmewhyyou’recrying.”
“Ijust…Idon’tthinkIrealizedhowhardthiswasgoingtobe.”
Mybrowfurrows.“DoyoumeanWanda?She’sgoingtobefine.Inafewdaysshe’llbebackhomeandeverythingwillbeokay.You’llsee.”
“I’mgoingtostayatherplace,”shetellsme.
Thiscatchesmeoffguard,anditisn’tuntilthisexactmomentthatInoticetheduffelbagsittingontheothersideofher,nexttothecouch.
“Okay…sure.”Inodencouragingly,pushingmyownfeelingsaside,wantingtoputhersfirstrightnow.“Ofcourse.I’msureWandaisgoingtoneedsomehelpwhenshecomeshome.Youshouldtakeallthetimeyouneedwithher.”
Alonetearslipsoverherlashestotraildownhercheek,andInoticeitthen,whatIhaven’tseenuntilthisverysecond.Ihaven’tnoticedthewayshe’slookingatmelikeshe’snevergoingtoseemeagain.
Ifeelsomethingstingingandsharpinmychest.
“Howlongdoyouthinkyou’llbegone,Cassie?”
Herlowerliptrembles,andthatpaininmychestbecomesanache,likeIneedtobreathebutamnotabletogetanyair.
“Cassie,”Itry,myvoicecomingoutwrong.“Pleasedon’t—”
“Ican’tdoit,Aiden,”shesaysdesolately.“Ican’tbesomethingusedtohurtyou.OrSophie,forthatmatter.Ijustcan’t.”
“Cassie,whatIrissaid—it’sgoingtobeokay.She’sjustangryrightnow.She’llcalmdown.I’mnotgoingtoletanythinghappen.”
“Italreadyhas,”shechokesout.“Andit’sgoingtogetworse.They’realwaysgoingtopointtohowthisallstarted.They’regoingtousemelikeatrumpcard.Ican’tbethat.Youwon’twantmetobethat.I’llendupasaburdentobothofyou.”
Ican’tcomprehendwhatshe’ssaying.Howcansheactuallythinkthatherleavingcouldbeagoodthing?JustthethoughtofherwalkingoutmydoorrightnowmakesmefeellikeI’mswallowingwaterfarbeneaththesurface,strugglingtoswimupwardbutsuspendedfarbelow.Itfeelslikedrowning.
“Cassie.Let’stalkaboutthis.It’sbeenastressfulmorning,andyou’reupset.Youdon’thavetomakeanydecisionsrightnow.Ifwe—”
“I’mnotgoingtochangemymind,Aiden.”
I’mmonthsshyofbeingthirty-two,andIhaveneverinmyadultlifefeltashelplessasIdorightnow.Icanfeelherslippingthroughmyfingers,anditfeelsunfair,unreal—I’vebarelyevenhadheratall,andnowI’mgoingtoloseher.
“You’rereallyleaving.Aren’tyou?”
Shenods,andIfeelsomethingbreakinginside.
“I’vegotsomeofmystuffinthatbag”—shenodstowardtheduffelthatI’dliketotossoutthewindow—“andI’llsendsomeoneaftertherest.”
She’sgoingtodisappear.Again.
“Sophie,”Isaydazedly.“She’sasleep.Ishouldgo—”
“No.”Sheshakesherhead.“IthinkitwouldbeeasieronherifIdidn’tsaygoodbye.”
Ifeelsomethinghotatmyneckthen,pushingupfromthecouchasmysadnessandmyfrustrationcollidewithanger.“Easierforwho,Cassie?You?Orher?”
“Both,”shewhispers,freshtearsspringingupinhereyes.Sherisesfromthecouchthen,hardlyevenlookingatme.“It’llbeeasieronherifshehatesme.”
“Doyouactuallybelievethat?Shelovesyou.She’sthehappiestIhaveseenhersincehermomdied,andit’sbecauseofyou.Ifyoudisappear,it’sgoingtoabsolutelywreckher.”
Notjusther,Iwanttoscream.It’snotjusther.
“Iknow,”shewhispersdejectedly.
“Yousaidyouweren’tgoinganywhere,”Iremindher.“Whydidyouletmetellheraboutusifyouweregoingtoleave?”
“I’msorry,”isallshesays,reachingforherduffel.“Iwishtherewassomeotherway.”
“Thereis.”Ireachforhershoulders,turninghertowardsmebeforeIholdherfaceinmyhands.“Stay.Figureitoutwithme.Ijustfoundyou.Don’tthrowitallawaybeforeweevenhaveachance.Please,Cassie.”
Hereyesdiptomymouthasherlipstremble,andIfeelmyrestraintcrumblingaway.Shedoesn’tstopmeasIleanin,andIhearhersoftintakeofairsecondsbeforemymouthtoucheshers.Thekissiswetfromhertears,onlymakingmefeelmoredesperate,andItrytopullhercloser,trytobridgethegapbetweenusthatfeelslikeit’swideningbythesecond.
There’samomentwhensheleansin,whenIthinkmaybeshe’llfallintomyarmsandforgetthisentireconversation—butit’sfleeting,slippingthroughmyfingersjustlikesheis.Shepullsaway,keepinghereyesshuttightasherfingerswraparoundmywriststogentlyprythemfromherface.Shestepsawayfromme,andit’sonlyafootofspacebetweenus,butitfeelslikemiles.
“I’msorry.”
Twowords,butthey’reenoughtoripmetoshreds.ButI’mnotignoranttothelookinhereyes.Icanseehowmuchthisiskillingher.Howmuchshedoesn’twanttogo.HowcanIlethergo,whenshe’slookingatmelikesheis?Likeshewantsmetoholdher?
“Youdon’twanttogo,”Isaydesperately.“Youknowyoudon’t.I’mnotgoingtoletyouwalkawayforsomebullshitreason.Ineedyou.”
Shesucksinabreath,eyeswideningasherresolveseemstowaver.Hermouthclosesjusttoopenagain,likeshe’stryingtoformwordsbutcan’trememberhow.Hernextbreathisshaky,herlipspressingtogetherandhereyesturningtothefloor,andforonesecondIthinkI’vegottenthroughtoher.Thatshewon’tleave.
“Aiden,I…it’snotjusttheIristhing.”
“Thenwhatis?Whateveritis,wecanworkitouttogether.Youjusthavetogivemethechanceto—”
“Thisisalltoomuchforme,”shesaysflatly.
Itfeelslikesomeoneknockedthewindoutofme.Ifeelallmysuretyandconfidencetricklingdownthedrain,havingnowaytobepreparedforthepossibilitythatshemightnotjustbeleavingformebutforheraswell.
“What?”
“I…”Sherubsatherarmnervously.Isitbecauseofguilt?“I’vebeentoodistractedbyallofthis.I’vebeenmessingupatschool,andIjust…Idon’thavetimeforeverythingthatcomeswiththis.Withus.IloveSophie,Ido,butI’mnotreadytobeanyone’smother.It’swaymorethanIsignedupfor.It’snottherighttimeinmylifeformetotryandbewhatyouneed.”
EveryemotionthathasragedinsidemefromthemomentIrealizedherintentionfizzlesoutanddies.Intheirwakeisacold,emptyvoidthatIfindissomehowmoreterrifyingthantheideaofherleavingonlymomentsago.Itfeelsliketheendofsomething.Ormaybeitfeelslikesomethingthatneverreallywas.
“Oh.”
Idon’tknowwhatelsetosay.HowcanIpossiblyrespondtothat?I’ddeludedmyselfintothinkingthatCassiefeltasstronglyformeasI’vecometofeelforher.Hownaiveofme.
Adry,hollowlaughescapesme.“Right.Ididn’t—”Myvoiceisthicknow.“Ididn’trealizethat’showyoufelt.”
“I’msorry,”shesaysagain.
I’msorry.
Whataridiculousphrase.Meaningless.Howisitthatinmillionsofyearswehaven’tmanagedtocomeupwithabetterstringofwordstooffersomeonewhoseheart’sbeingstompedon?I’msorryfeelslikeofferingaBand-Aidforasharkbite.
Utterly.Useless.
“Don’tbe,”Itellher.NowI’mtheonewhocan’tlookherintheeye.Idon’tknowifI’membarrassedorjustnumb.“Itwasmymistake.”Imovepasthertodropdownonthecouchtotakethepressureofmynow-unsteadylegs.“Ishouldn’thaveassumedthatwefeltthesame.”
Ihearherchokebackasob,butIstillcan’tbringmyselftolookather.I’mafraidifIdo,I’llloseit.
“Aiden,I—”
“I’llsaygoodbyetoSophieforyou,”Isayhollowly.“Eventually,she’llunderstand.”
InmylineofvisionIcanmakeoutherlegsmovingtowardherbag,andIcanseeherhandsreachingforthestrap.They’retrembling.Ithinkshe’scryingagain.Istillwanttoholdher,butknowingthatshedoesn’twantmetokeepsmeonthecouch,myhandsfistedatmysidesandmyeyestrainedonthefloor.
“Goodbye,Aiden,”shetellsmesoftly,hardlyevenawhisper.“I’msosorry.”
Idon’ttellhergoodbye.Idon’tthinkI’mphysicallyabletomakemymouthformtheword.Almostlikeit’swiredshutinrebellion.Asifnotsayingitwillsomehowmakeallofthisgoaway.
ButIcanseeherwalkingawayfromme,andthecrushingrealizationthatshewon’tbecomingbackisaheavy,tangiblethingsettlingonmyshoulders.Idon’tbreatheuntilIhearthefrontdoorclosebehindher;IthinkIwashopingduringherentirewalkdownstairsthatshewouldchangehermind.IhavenoideawhatI’mgoingtotellSophie,justlikeIhavenoideahowI’mgoingtopickmyselfupoffthecouchandfigureouthowtodealwithlosingCassieonlymomentsafterIfoundher.
Idon’tcry.IthinkI’dliketo,buteverythingissonumb.Instead,Iputmyheadinmyhands,myshouldersshakingasIclosemyeyesandtrytoforgetthewayCassiekissedmelikeshedidn’twanttogo.EvenifIalreadyknowit’sgoingtohauntme.Ihaveaterrifyingfeelingthatallofherwill.
PartofmethinksIshouldhavetoldherIloveher.
Partofmeknowsitwouldn’thavemadeherstay.Chatwith@alacarte
Ican’tbelieveyoustoodmeup.
Didsomethinghappen?
Pleasetellmesomethinghappened.OtherwiseIamgoingtofeelreallystupid.
Hello?
CHAPTER25Cassie
Youknow,eventuallyyou’regoingtohavetostopmoping.”
IraisemyheadfromtheagedvelvetofWanda’scouch,glaringatherfromthelivingroom.“Shouldn’tyoubemoresympathetic?”
“Why?”shescoffsatmeasshestirshersoup.“I’mnottheonewhotoldyoutogoandactlikeadummy.”
IgroanasIpressmyfacebackagainstthecouch,theplacewhereI’vebeensleepingforthepasttwoweeks.It’sbeenmorethantwomonthssinceIlastwallowedhere,andaftereverythingthat’shappened,itfeelslikesomeawfulironythatthisiswhereIfindmyself.SometimesIcatchmyselfwonderingifitmightbebetterifIcouldsomehowgobackandstopmyselffromevertakingthatjobtobeginwith.
AtleastthenIwouldn’tbesomiserable.
LyingtoAidenandmakinghimthinkthatIdidn’thavetimeinmylifeforhimandSophiewillgodowninhistoryasthehardestthingI’veeverdone.Iknowthatultimatelyitwasnecessary,thattheywillbothbebetteroffwithoutmeintheirlives—butitdoesn’tmakeithurtanyless.Idon’tthinkIwillevergethisheartbrokenexpressionoutofmyhead.AndIhavedefinitelytried.
Ican’tevenletmyselfwonderhowSophiemighthavereactedwhenshe’dlearnedIwasgone—dwellingonthatfortoolongmakesmefeellikecompletegarbageinsteadofmostlygarbageThere’snowayaten-year-oldcanunderstandcomplicatednonsenselikesacrificingforthegreatergood.Hell,afterweeksofobsessingoverthedecision,evenIthinkit’sbullshit.Nothingforthegreatergoodshouldmakeyoufeelsoshitty.
“Youhaven’ttalkedtohimsincethen?”
Ishakemyheadagainstthecouchcushions.“I’msurethattheybothwouldbehappytoneverseemeagain.”
“Oh,horseshit.Thereisn’tanythingyoucouldhavesaidthatcan’tbefixedwithagoodrompinthehay.”
“Therearesomanythingswrongwithwhatyoujustsaid.”
“EverythingIsayisbrilliant.”
Irollmyeyes.“I’mnotevensurewhereyouwouldfindhayinSanDiego.”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
“Hehatesme,Wanda,”Iwhine,buryingmyface.“Andheshould.Iwasarealasshole.”
“Youweredoingwhatyouthoughtyouhadto,”sheoffers.“Evenifitwasstupidashell.”
“Gee.Thanks.”
“Ididtrytotalkyououtofit.”
“Iknow.”IclosemyeyestokeepfromcryingforthehundredthtimesinceIleftAiden’shouse.“Butit’sbetterthisway.”
Wandamakesanoisethatsuggestsshehasalottosayaboutthatbutblessedlysaysnothing.Notthatshehasn’tsaidplentysinceIbroughtherhomefromthehospital.I’vebeentryingtothrowmyselfintoschoolandtheuselessendeavoroflookingformorework;IwouldliketosaythatI’vebeenmakingmyselfusefultoWandawhilesherecovers,butitonlytookabouttwenty-fourhoursaftershecamehomeforhertodecideshehadnodesiretobe“coddled.”Stubbornasamule,thatone.WithallthesulkingI’vebeendoing,it’smorelikeshe’sbeentakingcareofme.
“Whydon’tyougetoutofthehouse?”
Ishakemyhead.“Don’twantto.”
“You’rehauntingthisdamnedplacelikeaghost.Ifyoudon’tgooutsidesoon,you’regonnastartcollectingcobwebs.”
“I’mfine,Wanda.”
“Tellthattoyourhair,”shesnorts.“When’sthelasttimeyoubrushedit?”
“Reallygreattohaveyouinmycorner,”Ideadpan.“Ifeelverynurtured.”
“Youwantnurturing,getoutofmyhouseandgotellthatbigprettymanthatyoulovehim.Ibethe’llgiveyouallthenurturingyouwant.”
Ipushupfromthecouch,rollingmybodytothesideandgettingtomyfeet.“Okay.I’mgoingout.”
“ToAiden’s?”
“Tothestore.”
“Stubbornass,”shegrumbles.
“Yeah,Iloveyoutoo.”
Ishuffleintomyshoesbythedoor,notbotheringtobrushmyhairlikeshesuggested.AsIgrabmykeys,IcatchsightofmyselfinthelittlemirrorhangingbythefrontdoorandnoticethatIreallydolooklikeshit.Myauburnhairisstickingupeverywhichway,mynormallynice-lookingskinsallow—madeworsebythebagsundermyeyesfromthelackofsleep.Plus,there’stheoveralllookofgeneralmiseryIcan’tseemtowipefrommyfeatures.Imakeamentalnotetoforcemyselftotakealong,hotshowerwhenIgetbackfromthestoreasIuseahairtiefrommywristtothrowmyhairup.
“Getsomebread,”Wandacallsafterme.
“Yeah,yeah,”ItossovermyshoulderasIshutthedoorbehindme.
—
Ihaven’tbeenoutsideotherthantomylablastweekend,andeventhen,Ihaddonemyverybesttoavoidconversationwithactualpeopleasmuchaspossible,especiallyCamila.Thetriptothestoreisashortone—justafewblocksfromWanda’shouse—butit’sthefurthestnoneducationaljourneyI’vetakeninweeks,soI’mgoingtochalkituptoawin.
Idon’tactuallyneedanythingfromthestore.Truthbetold,IjustwantedtoshowWandathatIamcapableofdoingthingswithoutcrying—butIthrowacandybar(two,actually)ontotheconveyorbeltatthelastsecondalongwithahastilysnatchedpeachteabeforethecashierringsupWanda’sbread.Maybethesnackswillhelpmerememberwhatendorphinsfeellike.
IsoundlikealesscoolWednesdayAddamslately.
It’sstilllightoutwhenIleave,notquiteenoughtimeforWandatohavefinisheddinner,andasIstarttowalkback,Iconsiderfindingabenchtosquatonforanothertwentyminutesorsotogivetheillusionofmegettingoutandabout.MaybethatwillgetWandaoffmyback.AlthoughIdoubtit.IopenmydrinkasIwalk,turningthelidoveroutofhabittoreadwhateveriswrittenontheotherside.
Cherophobiaisthefearofhappiness.
Ipauseonthestreet,frowningwithdisdainattheoffensivelittlecircle.Ireallycan’tmakethisshitup.IfAidenwerehere,he’dprobablyaccusemeoflying.Thinkingabouthimonlymakesmyhearthurtmore.Iputthelidbackonaggressively,tossingthebottleinmyplasticsackasIcontinueontowardWanda’s,planningtotossthedrinkinthefirstavailabletrashcan.
There’sacaféIlikeonthewaybacktotheapartment,thefamiliarsmelloffreshlybakedpastriesassaultingmynostrilswhenIpassandgivingmethefirstrealhitofendorphinsI’vehadsinceIleftAiden’s.IlingeroutsidethedoorasIweighmyoptions.AcheeseDanishsoundsahellofalotbetterthanarandombench,nowthatIthinkaboutit.
IhavetopushthefactthatIlooklikeI’vebeenlivinginacaveforthelastfewweeksfaroutofmymindtofindthecouragetogoinside,tellingmyselfthatthesepeoplehavesurelyseenweirderthingsthanahot-messgradstudentwholookslikeshemightburstintotearsatanyminute.That’sprobablyparforthecourseforus,anyway.It’snotverybusyinside,atleast,andIsayaquietthanksforsmallblessings.
IpullmyphoneoutofmypocketasIfallinlinetoorder,staringattheemptynotificationswithanincreasinglyfamiliarfeelingofmelancholy.Aidenhasn’treachedoutsinceIleft,andwhywouldhe?IpracticallytoldhimIdidn’twanthim.SomethingthatissofarfromthetruthitmightaswellbeintheNationalEnquirer.Rightnexttothebitaboutsomepopsingerkeepinganalieninherbasement.
Idon’tevenknowhowmanytimesI’vewonderedwhetherornotI’lleverstoplovinghimatthispoint.
Thelinemoves,andIshufflealong,peekingaroundthecafétoseehowmanypeopleI’msubjectingtomyroughappearance.Mostofthetablesarebaresaveforafewalongthebackwall;there’sanoldermansippingsomethingfromamugwhilehereadsapaper,ayoungcouplechattingacrossthetablefromeachotheranimatedly,andintheverybackcorner,typingfuriouslyatalaptopandlookinglessthanenthusedaboutherlotinlifeis—
Ican’thelpbutstare.
Iknowexactlyhowlargethiscityis,andthereforeIamfairlyawareoftheoddsofseeingsomeoneatrandomyoudon’twanttosee.Ican’trattleoffapercentageoranythingsinceIdon’tcareaboutpopulationstudyandIdon’tworkfortheCensus,butIcanstillconjecturethatitisaverysmallnumber.
ButtheresitsIris,tuckedinthecornerofacaféI’vevisitedahundredtimeslikearegular.
Shedoesn’tnoticemeassheglaresdownatherlaptopscreen,andIcatchmyselfwonderingwhatshe’sfocusingonsointently.DespitemydesperateattemptstomentallydetachmyselffromAidenandSophie,seeingIrisisaharshreminderthatIhavemadeabsolutelynoprogress.Seeingherirritatestheholetheyleftbehind,makingitfeelasrawandasfreshasthedayIcarveditintomyownchestwhenIwalkedoutonthem.
It’snotaconsciousdecision,goingtoher;Idon’tthinkIevenrealizeI’mwalkingovertoheruntilI’mnearlyathertable,myfeetmovingontheirownastheycarrymeoneaftertheothertowhereshe’ssitting.Shedoesn’tevennoticemeuntilIplopdownintotheseatoppositeherinthelittlebooth,droppingthesackwithWanda’sbreadbesidemeasIris’seyeswidenwithsurprise,likeshe’stryingtoprocessthefactthatI’mhere.
“Hi,”Isay.
Shestilllooksoutofsortstoseeme.“Cassie?Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Idon’tknowhowtoanswerthat.I’mnotentirelysuremyself.
“I…Isawyousittinghere,andIjust…”Inoticeforthefirsttimethedarkcirclesunderhereyes,lookinghardlyanydifferentfrommine.InoticehowmuchshelookslikeSophie—samecheekbones,samenose—andIrealizeIbarelyknowanythingaboutthiswoman,andnowshe’suprootedmyentirelife.IrealizeatthisverymomenthowmuchIneedtoknowwhyithadtocometothis.“DoyouhateAiden?DoyoureallywanttotakeSophieaway?”
Sherearsback,lookingincensed.“Excuseme?”
“Ineedtoknow,”Iurge.“IneedtoknowthatIdidn’thaveanyotherchoice.”
“You’renotmakinganysense,”shesnorts,slammingherlaptopclosed.“AndIdon’toweyouorAidenadamnedthing.Soyoucantellhim—”
“Ican’ttellhimanything,”Iinformhersoftly,feelingthatfamiliarstinginmyeyes.Isilentlybegthemtostaydry.“Ileft.Thedaywesawyouatthehospital.”
Irissnorts.“What,diditstopbeingfunwhenyourealizedhowinappropriateitwas?”
“No.”Ishakemyhead.“IleftbecauseAidenisagooddad.”
“Becausethat’sarealreason.”
“Itis,”Isaymatter-of-factly.“He’sagreatdad,andheloveshisdaughter,andIwasn’tgoingtobethereasonsomeonetakesherawayfromhim.”
“Yourleavingdoesn’tchangethefactthatheleftherwithanelderlystrangerandthenwentradiosilentwhensheneededhimbecausehewaswithyou.”
“AndIcan’tchangethat,”Itellher.“Iknowthat.Itwasamistake.Ican’ttakeitback.ButIcanmakesureIdon’tcausethemanymorepain.Evenifitmeanshurtingthemtodoit.”
Irislooksatmeforalongtime,herblondbrowknittedandhermouthpursedwhileshestudiesme.
“Whyexactlyareyoutellingmethis?”
“Becauseyouneedtohearit,”Iinsist.“IknowthatAiden’sscheduleiscrazy,buthe’sbeenworkingsohardtofindabalanceforSophie.Headoresthatlittlegirl.Allhewantsiswhat’sbestforher.Idon’tunderstandwhyyouwouldtrysohardtotakeherawaywhenshewantstobewithhim.”
“Shedoesn’tknowwhatshewants,”Irissaysalittlequieter,avertinghereyes.
“Ithinkshedoes,”Iargue.“Isawiteverydayforweeks.Howmuchshewantedtobewithherdad.Youhavetoknowthatitwouldhurtherifyouseparatedthem,sowhythehellareyoutryingsohard?”
“BecauseIhaveto,”shehuffs,runningherfingersthroughherhair.“Youdon’tgetit.”
“Thenexplainittome.”
“AndwhyshouldI?”
“BecauseI’mofferingtolisten,andI’mstartingtothinkthereisn’tanyoneelseinyourlifewhohas.”
“Youdon’tknowanythingaboutmylife,”shescoffs.“Youcan’tpossiblyknowwhatit’sliketoloseyouronlyfamily.”
Ismileather,butit’shollow.“Youmightbesurprised.”
“Oh?Youknowwhatit’sliketowakeuponedayandyoursisterisjust…gone?Yourotherhalf,themostimportantpersoninyourlife”—shesnapsherfingers—“gone.Justlikethat.”Irislooksupattheceiling,hereyesshining.“ShewasallIhad.Ourparentsaredead.Didyouknow?Sincewewereteens.Ibasicallyraisedher,andIdidn’tevengettosaygoodbye.Youcan’tpossiblyknowwhatthat’slike.”
“You’reright,”Itellhertruthfully.Unfortunately,IwassubjectedtomyparentsforaverylongtimebeforeIwasabletogetaway.“Idon’tknowwhatthat’slike.”
“Andthenmyniece,theonlypartofRebeccaIhaveleft—suddenlyshe’srippedawayfrommetoo.DaysafterweburiedRebecca.”Irisrunsherfingersthroughherhair,lookinglost.“Mysisterwassuddenlygone,andthensomeguywhoonlysawheronceortwiceamonthcomesandtakesher?JustbecausehesharesherDNA?Howisthatfair?IwatchedSophiecomeintothisworld.IheldRebecca’shandwhileshepushed.IcutSophie’scord.Me.NotAiden.Me.Andnowshe’s…”
Hereyesarered,awetnesstherethatthreatenstospill,andforthefirsttimesinceImetIris,Idon’tseetheguardedwomanthatshe’sbeeneverytimewe’vemet.Iseeascared,grievingsister,alonelyaunt—someonewhodoesn’tknowwhereshe’sgoingorwhattodonext.ForthefirsttimesinceImether,sheseems…sad.NotanydifferentthanIamrightnow,really.
“Ican’tloseSophietoo,”Iriswhispers,aquietsobinherthroat.Shewipeshereyes.“I’msureyou’reenjoyingthis.”
Ishakemyhead.“I’mnot.I’mjustthinkingthatweallcouldhaveavoidedalotofheartbreakifyouandAidencouldhavearealconversation.”
“Youdon’tthinkI’vetried?”
“Buthaveyou?”Igiveherapointedlook.“Listen,IknowAiden.He’sagoodman.He’sdefinitelynotanunreasonableone.Hewouldn’tkeepSophiefromyououtofspite.Lookathowtheselastfewmonthshavebeen.Haven’twebeenfindingwaysforbothofyoutobeinherlife?”
Hermouthsnapsshut,aguiltylookinhereyesasshestaresdownatthetable.“Thatwasn’tAiden.Thatwasyou.”
“I’mgladtohearthatatleastsomepartofyoustillbelievesIcaredaboutSophie.”
“Listen,I’msureyoudo,butyouhavetounderstand—”
“YouhavetounderstandthatAidenisgoingtomakemistakes.Withorwithoutmeinhislife.Idon’tthinkthemeasureofaparentisthemistakestheymake.Ithinkit’showhardtheyworktofixthem.”
Irisstaresatmewithabewilderedexpression,turningherheadslightlylikeshe’stryingtofiguremeout.“Idon’tgetwhyyouwanttohelpsobadly.Yousaidyouleft.”
“Yeah.”Ilaughbitterly.“AnditwasthehardestthingI’veeverdone.NowIwonderifitwaseventherightthing.”
“Sowhyareyoutryingtohelpme?”
“I’mnot,”Icorrect.“I’mtryingtohelpthem.IwantAidenandSophietohaveeverybitofhappinessthattheydeserve.Ifthatmeansspellingouttoyouhowtohaveanactualconversationlikeanormalhumanbeing…well.It’sworththeawkwardconversation.”
Irisblinks.Thenthewrinkleinherbrowsoftens,hereyesfollowingsuitasshelooksatmeasifseeingmeforthefirsttime.“Youlovehim.Don’tyou.”
“I—”Iswallow,justthethoughtofitrustlingupafreshwaveofpainthatIsuspectwon’tebbforalongtimetocome.“Yes.”Inodslowly,lookingdowninmylap.“Ido.Bothofthem.”
Irisdoesn’tsayanything,andreally,Idon’tthinkthere’sanythingleftforeitherofustosay.InodawkwardlyatthetablebeforeIlaymyfingersonthetoptodrumthemabsently.
“I’mgoingtoleaveyoualonenow,”Itellher.“Just…thinkaboutit.There’snoreasonforanyofyoutokeephurtinglikethis.”
Irisnodsdazedly,stilllookingatmelikeIhaveasecondheadgrowingoutofthesideofmyneck.IguessIcan’tblameher,sincethisisthestrangestencounterI’veeverhadinmylife.Ican’tevensayifitwilldoanygood,butatleastIcansayItried.
“Cassie,”IriscallsasImovetoslideoutofthebooth.
Ipauseattheedge.“Yeah?”
“I’msorry,”shesays.“ForthethingsIsaid.Iwashurting.”
Anotherdry,hollowlaughescapesme.“Yeah,well.There’splentyofthattogoaround.”
Idon’tsaygoodbyeasIleaveIrissittingatthetable,andIdon’tlookback.IstepoutofthecaféwithWanda’ssackofbreadstillinmyhandandmyDanishforgotten.IhavenowayofknowingifanythingwillcomefromwhatI’vedone,buttheholeinmychestfeelssmaller,lessraw.Maybeitwillneverclose.MaybethiswillbethebestIcanhopefor—thatAidenandSophiewillfindhappiness.
Evenifit’swithoutme.Chatwith@alacarte
@alacarteisoffline.
Lastmessagewas23daysago.
CHAPTER26Cassie
DaysaftertalkingtoIris,Ifindmyselffeelingstrangelylessmopey.I’mstillmostlymiserableandalotangryatmyself,butIdon’tfeelliketheskyisfalling.Mostofthetime.Ithinkit’sbecauseI’vechosentoletmyselfdaydreamthattalkingtoIriswillleadtosomethinggoodforthelittlefamilyIleftbehind.Thatsomewhereinallthehurttheywillfindtheirhappilyeverafter.ThatIwon’tbeaburdenforanyone.Noteveragain.
I’mstillonWanda’scouch,butI’mnotonmywaytoachievingcompletehomeostasis,atleast.I’veshowered(multipletimes,thankyou),andI’vebrushedmyhair.I’veevenputawaymydepressionsweatsandoptedforaslightlylesssadoutfitofleggingsandanoversizedT-shirt,whichisclean,Imightadd.That’sadefiniteplus.
I’vespentmostofthedayworkingonassignmentsthatI’vefallenintothehabitofputtingoffuntilthelastsecondtoallowformorecryingtime,andbythetimethatI’vegottenfullycaughtupwithmylessons—thefirsttimeinweeksthatI’vedonesoearlierthanthenightbeforemylabs—I’mfeelingalmostlikemyselfagain.Almost.
IcanhearWandasteppingdownthehallfromherbedroomasIclosemylaptop,pullingherrobeclosedasshepeersatmeoverherglasses.“Lookatyou,”shesays,soundingimpressed.“Therewasanactualwomanlivingunderallthatfunk.”
Irollmyeyes.“Again,sohappytohaveyouinmycorner.”
“I’mjustpullingyourleg.I’mhappyyoulookmorelikeyourself.Iwasstartingtoconsidercallinganexorcistorsomething.”
“Yes,weareallveryamusedbyyourhauntingjokes.”
“DialedthatoldGhostbusterslineatonepoint,”shedeadpans.“GotsomepoorschmuckinKentucky.”
“Isn’tittimeforyoutogetreadyforbingo?”
“I’vegottime.”Shemovesovertoherchairtoplopdownintoit,studyingmeoverthetopsofherglasses.“Youdolookmuchbetter.Youthinkthatmeanbroadheardanythingyousaid?”
Ishrug.“Idon’tknow.Iwanttothinkshedidthough.Itmakesmefeelbettertothinkthat.”
“You’dprobablyfeelevenbetterifyougocheckyourself.”
“I’mnothavingthisdiscussionagain.”
“Wehaven’tactuallyhadittobeginwith.You’realwaysskulkingofftothebathroomorburyingyourselfinmycouchlikearealsquatter.”
“Wow.Acouplemonthsagoyouwerebeggingmetostayhere.”
“Yeah,well.Thatwasbeforeyouhadawhole-assfamilyouttherewishingyou’dcomeback.”
There’sasqueezingsensationinmychest.“Theydon’t.Trustme.”
“Youthinkthey’dwriteyouoffafterafewweeks?”
“ItoldhimIdidn’thavetimeforthem.ItoldhimIdidn’tsignupforanyofthat.”
“Yeah,well.Wealldodumbthingssometimewhenwelovepeople.”
“Yeah,”Ilaugh.“Wedo.”
“Idon’twantyoutoendupwithanyregrets.”
“MaybeI’llbelikeyou,”Ichuckle.“Newboyfriendeveryweek.Soundslikeadreamtome.”
“It’snot,”Wandasaysflatly.“Youthinkthatsoundslikeadreamtoyou?”
Irearback.“What?”
“YouthinkIlikelivinginthistinyapartmentallbymyself?”
“I…”Ifeelatalossforwords.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Cassie,”Wandalaughs.“Youaretoosmarttobethisdumb.OfcourseI’mnotlivingthedream.”Shecluckshertongue.“Thedreamiscominghometosomeonewholovesyoueveryday.”
“But,ifthat’showyoufeel,thenwhydoyou—”
“BecauseIhadmychanceatthatonce,andIruinedit.Justlikeyou’retryingtodo.”
Ihavenoideawhattosay.InalltheyearsI’veknownWanda,she’snevergivenmeanyindicationthatshehadanyqualmsaboutherlife.Sure,it’salittleoutoftheboxthatshecouldgettothisagewithouthavingeversettleddown,butIassumedthatwasthelifeshechose.Ithadneveroccurredtomethatshemightwantanythingdifferent.
“WhyisthisthefirsttimeI’mhearingaboutthis?”
Wandashrugs.“You’veneverneededtohearituntilnow.”Shecrossesonelegovertheotherasshesighsdeeply,lookingdownatherfootthat’stappingtheairassheconsiders.“Iwasn’tmucholderthanyouwere,whenImetHenry.”
“Henry?”
Wandasmiles,remembering.“YourtypicalsurferbeachbumlivinginLaJollaintheseventies.Blondhair,blueeyes…waytooprettyforhisowngood.Andofcourse,sinceIwassuchalooker,heobviouslycouldn’tstopthinkingaboutmeafterwemet.”
“Naturally,”Isaywithagrin.
“IthoughtIwashotshitinthosedays.I’mtellingyou,Cassie,ifboobycamswereathingbackthen,I’dhavemadeakilling.”
“Ihavenodoubt.”
“SothereIwas,thisstackedlittlebrunettewhothoughthershitdidn’tstink,andalongcomesHenry.Itellyou,Cassie.Heknockedmerightonmyass.Heboughtmeanicecreamontheboardwalkthatfirstday,andIcan’tevenrememberwhatwetalkedabout,butIwasjust”—sheclapsherhandsinashooting-offmotion—“gone.Rightfromthestart.”
“Whathappened?”
“Weweretogethereverydaythatsummer.Wewouldlieonthebeach,wewouldmakeoutinhiscar,we’ddo…otherthings.”Imakeaface,andWandasnortsatme.“Oh,shutup.YouandIbothknowneitherofusarestrangerstoapenis.”
WordsIwouldneverliketohearagain,thankyouverymuch.
“Anyway,”Wandagoeson.“OfcourseIlovedHenry,andofcoursehewasobsessedwithme—”
“Obviously,”Itease.
“Damnright,”shehuffs.“But…”Shesighs,shakingherhead.“Iwasfoolish.Twenty-sevenyearsold,andIstilldidn’tknowanythingaboutanything.Iwasalwayslookingforthenextparty,thenextbigthing,andHenry,surprisinglyenough,well…hewantedmore.”
Inoticetheslightfurrowinherbrownow,thesadqualityofhereyesthattellsmethisisn’tawoundthat’severhealedforher,whateveritmaybe.
“Heaskedmetomarryhim,”shesaysinafarawayvoice.“Attheendofthatsummer.Gotdownononekneeandeverything.Hehad…”Wandasmiles,butagain,there’sasadnesstoit.“Heevenhadthisring.Itwastinyandpitiful,butIknowhehadtohavesavedallsummertobuyit.”Shecloseshereyes,andIcantellshe’srememberingthismomentlikeitwasyesterday.Likeshe’sneverstoppedthinkingaboutit.“He’dgottenthisjobwithaconstructioncompanyinSanFrancisco,andhewantedmetocomewithhim.Wantedtostartourlivestogetherallthewayacrossthestate.”
Iknowwhathappened,ofcourseIdo,sinceWandaishereandHenryisn’t,butthewayshegoesquietthentellsmethatshehastroubletalkingaboutitevennowafterallthistime,andIfindmyselfstatingtheobvious,anyway.
“Yousaidno,”Isayquietly.
Shenods.“Isaidno.”
“Why?”
“Why,”Wandalaughsdryly,turninghereyesupattheceilingandshakingherhead.“IthoughtIneededtheparty.ThatIwasn’treadytosettledownandplaythehousewife.IthoughtthatsomehowthislifeHenrywasofferingwouldholdmeback.”Wandabreathesindeepjusttoblowitout,thatsamesadsmileathermouth.“Soheleft.Packedhisbagsandtookthatjob.HeleftmebehindjustlikeIforcedhimto.”
“Wanda,I—”
“Don’t.”Shewavesmeoff.“Itwasdamnnearhalfacenturyago.Imademybed.”
“ButIhadnoidea.”
“Becauseyoudidn’tneedtothen,butyoudonow.Doyouknowwhy?”
Ishakemyhead.“Why?”
“Because,”shesays.“EightmonthsafterHenryleft,Ifoundmyselfmiserable.ImissedhimsoterriblythatIcouldbarelygetoutofbedinthemorning.IttookmeeightwholemonthstorealizethatIhadmadetheworstmistakeofmylife,andthatIdidn’twanttokeepchasingtheparties.IwantedHenry.”
“Sowhathappened?”
“Trackedhimdown.”Shenods.“Yes,Idid.IflewallthewaytoSanFranciscowiththisgrandplantowinhimback.Iwasdeterminedtodowhateverittook.Grovel,beg…anything.”
“But?”
ThepaininWanda’sexpressionispalpable,andit’sastoundingthatitcouldstillbesofreshforher,evenafterallthistime.
“Buthe’dmovedon,”shetellsmesoftly.“He’dmarriedthisprettylittlethingwhowasareceptionistattheplaceheworked.IsawthemononeofthejobsitesI’drunofftotryingtofindhim.Shewashandinghimasacklunchinawhitedress,andtheylooked…theylookedsohappy.Icouldn’tevenbringmyselftoconfronthim.Iturnedaroundandwentrighthome.”Shelooksmeintheeyesthen,pointedly,likethisisthemostimportantpartthatshewantsmetograsp.“AndIneverfeltanythingclosetowhatIfeltforHenry.Notfortherestofmylife.”
“Wanda,I’m—I’msosorry.Ialwaysthoughtyoulovedyourlife.”
Sheblowsoutabreath.“Imakedo.Ihavefun,Ido.AndIhaveyounow,andthat’sbeenenoughforme.ButIseeyousittingthere,makingthesamemistakes,andIcan’tsitbyandwatchmylifeplayoutalloveragainwithyou.Trustme,Cassie.Youdon’twanttoseeAidensomedaywithhisprettyblondeinawhitedress.Youdon’tforgetpainlikethat.Youdon’teverforgetlovingsomeonethatcouldhavebeenyoursifyouhadn’tpushedthemaway.”
Ilookdowninmylap,tryingtothinkofaresponse.IfeelhorribleforhavingspentsomuchtimewithWandawithouthavinganyideaaboutthispartofherpast;whyhadn’tsheevertoldmeaboutthisbeforenow?MaybeifI’dknownthisstory,maybeI’dhavebeenlesslikelyto…
No.
Ican’tsithereandtrytoblamesomeoneelseformychoices.I’mtheonewhosaidthosethingstoAiden,andI’mtheonewhomadethedecisionforusboththathewasbetteroffwithoutme.Icouldhavetalkedtohim,andwecouldhavetriedtofindasolutiontogether,butIrobbedhimofthatoptionwhenIliedtohimandtoldhimIdidn’twanthim.IhavenoonetoblamebutmyselfforthehellI’vebeenthroughtheselastfewweeks.Isthiswhattherestofmylifewilllooklike?WillIalwaysregretwhatcouldhavebeenbetweenus?
Ialreadyknowtheanswertothat.IknowitbecauseevenbeforeIeverknewAiden’sname,beforeIknewwhathelookedlikeorwherehecamefromorabouthissmilesandhiskissesandeverythingelse—Imissedhim.ImissedhimforayearwhenIknewnothing.IknowthatIwillmisshimforevernowthatIknowsomuch.
“God,”Imutter,hangingmyhead.“Ifuckedup.”
“Mm-hmm,”Wandaagrees.“Butyoustillhavetimetofixit.Youcangoandapologize.Tellthatmanyoulovehimandthatyou’reacompleteidiot.”
“Justlikethat,huh,”Ichuckle,peekingupather.
Wandabobsherhead.“Easypeasy.”Shelooksatthewallclock,checkingthetimebeforesherisesfromherchair.“Now,ifyou’llexcuseme,Ihavetogogetready.”
“Bingo?”
“Nope,”shetellsme.“I’mgoingonadate.”
Mymouthfallsopen.“What?”
“That’sright,”shesayswithherheadheldhigh.“Abonafidedate.”
“Withwho?”
“FredWythers.”
“What?Ithoughtyoudumpedhim.”
“Yeah,well.That’sbecausehewantedtoseememore.Iwasn’tlookingforanythinglikethatthen.”
Istillfeelflabbergastedbythisnewrevelation.“Andyouarenow?”
“Aheartattackreallyputsthingsintoperspective,girl.Icouldbedeadtomorrow.”Sheshrugs.“MaybeIdecidedImightnotwanttokickthebucketallalone.”
“That’s…”I’mstilltryingtowrapmyheadaroundeverythingI’velearnedinthelasttwentyminutes.“That’sgreat,Wanda.”
“We’llsee,”shehumphs.“I’llgetafreemealoutofit,atleast.”
Ican’thelpit,IgrinatthisveryclassicWandaoutlook.“Right.”
“Now,Iwantyoutositthereonthatcouch—”
“Noproblemsthere,”Isnort.
“—andyouthinkaboutwhatI’vesaid.Maybeyou’llfigureoutthatyoudon’twanttobelikeme,afterall.”Shewinksatmethen.“EvenifIamcoolashell.”
Ilaughassheheadsbackdownthehalltogetreadyforherdate—that’sgoingtotakemesometimetogetusedto—leavingmerightwhereshefoundmebutwithahellofalotmoretothinkabout.
—
Wandaleftanhourago,andwhileitwasstrangetoseeherinoneofhernicerpantsuitsandbeingpickedupatherfrontdoorlikeshewasrunningofftoprom,Ilikehowcuteshewas,tryingnottoseemexcited.Fredhadgivenmeafriendlyhellobeforetheyleft,wavingwithonehandandholdingabouquetintheother,andIhadn’tmissedtheblushonWanda’scheekswhenhe’dhandedovertheflowers.It’sdefinitelynew,butitlooksgoodonher,Ithink.
Although,the“don’twaitup”she’dtossedoverhershouldermademefeellikealoser.Seventy-two,andshestillhasmoregamethanme.
Ihaven’tdonemuchsinceWandaleft,notthatanyone’ssurprised,butIhavebeendoingalotofthinking.AboutWanda’sstory,aboutmyownpredicament…butmostlyaboutAidenandSophie.I’vegoneovereverypossiblescenariothatIcanthinkofinregardtohowImightapologize,orifIevenshould,andeveryspiralonlybringsmerightbacktothesameguiltandthecrushingfearthatnothingIcouldeversaytothemwillmakeanydifference.HowcouldeitherofthemforgivemeafterthewayIleft?Liketheydidn’tevenmatter.
IknowatsomepointIwillneedtodragmyselfoffthiscouchandmakemyselfsomethingtoeatifIamgoingtokeepupthefacadethatIamslowlygettingbetter,butmybrainismushafterallthethinkingI’vebeendoing,andIwon’tpretendthatturningoffthelightsandgoingtobedearlyat—Iglanceattheclockandgroan—seveno’clocksoundslikeamuchmoreappealingoption.
I’mstillgoingbackandforthbetweenmyrivetingoptionswhenthere’saknockatthedoor,andIfrownattheothersideofitasIwonderwhomightbehere.There’snowaythatWandawouldbebackthisearly,andasfarasIknowI’mheronlyrealfriend,sowhoelsecoulditbe?Withmyluck,it’llbetheoldmanfrom2Bagainwithmypackagehe“accidentallyopenedaftertheydeliveredittohimbymistake.”Right.Hewasjustdisappointedtherewasn’tanythinggoodinthere.IhuffasI’mforcedtoleavethesadvelvetthroneI’vemadeahomeon,trudgingovertoWanda’sfrontdoorandlookingthroughthepeephole,butthehalllooksempty.IfrownasIlookagain,confirmingthatno,thereisn’tanyoneoutthere.Arewestillding-dongditchingin2023?
Iunlockthechainbeforefumblingwiththelockinannoyance,finallymanagingtogeteverythingundonesoIcanwrenchopenthedoorinthehopesthatIcancatchthelittlebastardwhodarestogivemeshitwhileI’mstillhalfwallowing.IfindimmediatelythatIhadn’tbeenwrong,exactly,sinceIcouldn’tseeanyoneoutofthepeephole,butIhadn’tbeenrighteither.
Becausethereissomeoneontheothersideofthedoor,someonewhoistooshorttospotfromthepeepholeandwhohasnobusinessbeinghere,especiallybythemselves.Igapeatchestnuthairandfrecklesandatinyfacethatmakesmyhearthurt,stunnedforamomentasItrytomakesenseofherbeinghere.Iturnmyheaddownthehalltoconfirmthatyes,sheactuallyisalone,squashingtheslightdisappointmentandfocusingonthelittlegirlatthedoorwhomakesmefeelbothelatedandincrediblyguilty.
“Sophie?”IthinkIfeelmorefoolishthananythingelse.
I’mnotastupidgirl.Idon’tdothingslikethis.
ButhalffallingforsomeonewhosenameIdon’tknowandwhosefaceI’veneverseen…well.Itdoesn’tdoanythingtohelpmycase.
IstareatthesettingspageinthesamewayI’vedonesoadozentimesinthelastfewweeks,wonderingifIamastupidgirl.WouldIbesohurtoverarelativestrangerthatIwasconsideringdeletingmyentireaccountotherwise?
ButImisshim.
AnditfeelslikeIcan’tdothisanymore,notwithoutthinkingofhimeverytimeIlogon.
ItakeadeepbreathasIhitthedeletebutton.
Areyousureyouwanttodeleteyouraccount?
Ilied.
Idefinitelyfeelmorehurtthanfoolish.
CHAPTER27Cassie
Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Sophieisstillstandingonthefadedcarpetoftheapartmenthallway.IthinkI’mactuallytoostunnedtoeventhinktoinviteherinatfirst,stuckinthedoorwayassherubsherarmguiltily.
“Sophie,”Ipress,gentlygrabbingherarmandpullingherinsidetheapartmentbeforeshuttingthedoor.“Howdidyouevengethere?”
“AnUber,”shetellsmematter-of-factly.
“AnUber,”Iechodumbly.“YoutookanUber?”
“Yes.”
“Allbyyourself?”
SheholdsupacellphonethatIrecognize.“Iusedmydad’sphone.”
“Youusedyourdad’s…”Iblink,tryingtowrapmyheadaroundwhatshe’ssaying.“Whereisyourdad?”
“Working,”shetellsme.“Isnuckoutoftheoffice.”
“Sophie,thatwasextremelydangerous.Doyouunderstandme?YouarewaytooyoungtobehoppingintoUbersandgoingacrosstown.Howdidyouevengettheaddress?”
“Dadhaditonhisphone.”
Everythingsheissayingsoundsperfectlyreasonableandlogical,butnothingaboutitmakesanysense.IknowSophieisanincrediblysmartlittlegirl,butthisfeelsimpossible,evenforher.
“Whatareyoudoinghere,Sophie?”
Shelooksdownatthefloor.“Ineededtoseeyou.”
“Youneededtoseeme.”
“Yes.Dadwouldn’tletmecallyou.”
Mystomachtwists.Shewantedtocallme?TheguiltIfeelfornothavingsaidgoodbyetoherflaresuplikeit’sbrandnew.“Sophie…yourdadisprobablyfreakingout.”
“No,heisn’t,”shemumbles.“He’sgoingtogivemeaway.”
“What?”
Shelooksatmewithahelplessexpression.“He’sgoingtogivemeaway!ToAuntIris!”
“Comehere.”Itugherhand,leadinghertothecouch,andpatthespacebesidemesothatshecansit.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Iheardhimtalkingtoher,”Sophietellsme.“Onthephone.Hewastalkingaboutmegoingtoherhouse.Hedoesn’twanttokeepmeanymorebecauseIranyouoff.”
“Oh,Sophie.”Myheartbreaksalittlemore.“Youdidn’trunmeoff.”
“ButIalwaysrunoffthenanny.I…”Hereyeswellwithtears.“Icouldn’thelpWanda.Isthatwhyyouleft?Dadwouldn’ttellme,butthathastobewhyyouleft,right?”
“Oh,honey.”Ipullheragainstme,crushingherinmyarmsasthefamiliarscentofherwatermelonshampoohitsmynostrils.Ibreatheitin,myemotionslodginginmythroat.IthoughtI’dneversmellitagain.“That’snotwhyIleft.Youdidnothingwrong.Nothing.”
Sheturnsherfacetopressdeeperagainstmychest,herarmswindingaroundmywaist.“Thenwhydidyouleave?”
“It’s…complicated.”
“Wereyoumadatmydad?”
“No.No.Iwasn’t.Iwasn’tmadatanyone.”
“Dadmissesyou,”shemumblesintomyshirt.“Henevertalksaboutyou,butheseemssosadallthetime.”
IhavetoshutmyeyessothatIcankeepfromcryingagain.“Imisshimtoo,”Iadmitquietly.“Imissyouboth.”
“Thencomeback!Maybeifyoucomeback,Dadwon’tgivemeaway!”
“Soph…”Iurgeherbackward,lookingherintheeyes.“Yourdadisn’tgoingtogiveyouaway.There’snowayhewouldeverdothat.Helovesyou.”
“ThenwhywashetalkingtoAuntIrisaboutmegoingtoherhouse?”
MyconversationwithIrisdriftsthroughmythoughts,andIcan’tbesurethatwhateverisgoingonbetweenIrisandAidenmeansprogress,butIhavetohopethat’sthecase.IknowthatAidenwouldnevergiveSophieup.Notunderanycircumstances.
“I’msureit’snotwhatyouthink,”Itellher.“Maybethey’retryingtostopfightingsomuch.I’msuretheybothwanttomakeyouhappy.”
“Idon’twanttoleaveDad’shouse,”shesayspitifully.“Iwanttostaywithhim.”
“Ofcourseyoudo,”Isoothe.“AndIknowthathewantsyoutostaytheretoo.Helovesyousomuch,Sophie,whichiswhyI’msureheisoutofhismindwithworryrightnow.”
“Maybe,”shemumbles.
“I’msureofit,”Iinsist,“whichiswhywehavetotakeyouback.”
“ButevenifIstaywithmydad,”Sophiegoeson,“youwon’tcomeback.”
Everythinginmychestfeelslikeit’sbeingsqueezedtootightly,myeyesstingingasherpiercinggazeholdsmine.HergreeneyesaresosimilartothegreenofAiden’srighteye,andherexpressionnowfeelslikelookingatasmallerversionofhim.Itmakesmemisshimallthemore.
“Idon’tthinkyourdadwouldwantmetocomeback,Sophie.Isaid…alotofterriblethingswhenIleft.”
“Why?”
“Because…IthoughtthatIhadto.IthoughtthatIneededtoleavetoprotectyouguys.”
Sophie’snosewrinkles.“That’ssilly.Youcan’tprotectus.You’retoosmall.Mydad’swaybiggerthanyou.Youshouldlethimprotectus.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh;herten-year-oldlogicissosimpleandyetcompletelyspot-oninaroundaboutway.Ireachtorunmyfingersthroughherhair,brushingitfromherfacebeforecuppinghercheek.
“Idon’tknowifit’sthatsimple,”Itellher.“I’msureI’mthelastpersonyourdadwantstosee.”
“Butdon’tyoulovehim?”
Thistakesmecompletelyoffguard.“What?”
“Youwentondates,”sheinsists.“Andyouwere”—shemakesaface—“kissingandstuff.Thatmeansyoulovehim,right?”
“I…wow.Youreallyknowhowtoputsomeoneonthespot.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
Ipinchthebridgeofmynose,sighing.“Nevermind.Idon’tthinkitmattersifIlovehim.”
“Yes,itdoes.Mymomalwayssaidthatyoucanfixanythingwithlove.”
Mylipspresstogether,somethingtuggingatmyheart.“Shedid?”
“Yes.”Sophienodsenthusiastically.“Soifyoulovehim,wecanfixit!Youcancomeback,andthenhewon’tsendmeaway,andeverythingwillbeokayagain!”
“Sophie,it’snotthatsimple.”
“Butifyou—”
“Justtrustme,”Ihuff,cuttingheroff.“Iwishthingsweredifferent,buttheyaren’t.”
Sophiehangsherhead,andIfeelthatholeinmychest—theoneI’dbeensosurewasstartingtoheal—throbwithfreshpainasifithadbeenopenedmomentsago.Iwouldgiveanythingforthingstobeassimpleasshethinkstheyare;IwouldlovetotakeherbackandapologizeandthrowmyselfinAiden’sarmsorevenathisfeet,butIknowthat’snothowtheworldworks.Shedidn’tseethelookonhisfacewhenItoldhimthattheyweremorethanIsignedupfor.Itookeverywarmmomentwehadtogetherduringmytimethereandthrewitrightbackinhisface.Idon’tthinkthere’sanythingIcansaytocomebackfromthat
“ButIdohavetotakeyoubacktohim,”Isayresignedly.“SoI’mgoingtoneedyoutocalltherestaurantandseeifhe’sstillthereorifhe’sgonehome.”
Ican’tevenimaginethelevelofpanicAidenisatrightnow;he’sprobablygottheentireSanDiegopoliceforceoutonthestreetsrightnow.Sophielooksdejected,andIknownoneofthisiswhatshewantedtohear,andIwishthatIhadbetteranswersforher.IwishIcouldmakeeverythingokayforher—butIdon’tthinkit’sinthecards.Notforme,andnotforus.
IhelpSophiedialthenumbertotherestaurantandhandoverthephone,becauseI’mwaytoomuchofacowardtocallmyself.Iholdmybreathwhileshedials,realizinginaveryshorttimeIamgoingtobeforcedtoseeAidenagain.Ican’timaginewhatkindofspeechAidenwillhaveforSophiewhenshegetsbacktohim,andIcanseethatshe’sthinkingthesamething,judgingbythenervouslookonherface,butIthinkIhavemoretobescaredof.
BecauseIdoubtAidenwilleventalktomeatall.
—
Aidenhadalreadylefttherestaurant—hiscoworkerssaidheleftimmediatelyafterdiscoveringthatSophiehadsnuckout,andheheadedbacktohishousetotrytolookforherthere.Ihadbeenrightabouthislevelofpanic;it’sevidentbytheflashinglightswearemetwithoutsidethetownhousewhenwepullupalongsidethestreet.SophielooksatmewithfearinhereyesasIparkinfrontofthegate,obviouslyregrettingherdecisionentirelyassheisnodoubtanxiousabouthowherdadwillreceiveherwhenshegetsinside.
“Willyoucomeinwithme?”
Ifrown,lookingfromherinmypassengerseattothefrontdoorthatisawashwithred-and-bluelights.“Idon’tknowifthat’sagoodidea…”
“Buthewantstoseeyou,”sheurges.“Andmaybeifyoucomewithme,hewon’tbesomad.”
“Oh,Ithinkhe’sstillgoingtobemad,”Iwarnher.“Youdidasillything,Soph.”
Shehangsherhead.“Iknow.”
TheideaofseeingAidenagainissomethingIamtornbetweenwantingterriblyandwantingterriblytoavoid,butthehelplesslookonSophie’sfacetugsatmyheartstrings,andIknowthatdespitemydiscomfort,Ioweherthismuch.Probablymore.
“Okay,”Iconcede.“I’llgowithyou.Justtotakeyouinside,okay?ThenIhavetogo.”
Shenodseagerly,lookingatadrelieved.“Okay.”
IfeellikeI’mtheten-year-oldinmassivetroublewhenIwalkbehindherthroughthegate,myhandgentlybetweenhershoulderbladesasIurgeherupthepath.Thefrontdoorisajar,andallthelightsareoninthehouse,butthefirstfloorisemptywhenwestepinside.Icanhearvoicesupstairs,acacophonyofdifferentpeopletalkingovereachother,butabovethemall,IcanhearonethatIrecognize.Onethatmakesmystomachflutter,evennow.
Sophiereachesformyhandatthebottomofthestairs,givingmeanotherworriedlookasIwrapmyhandaroundhers.Idon’tletgoofitasweascend,andatfirst,whenwereachthetop,noonenoticesus.They’retoobusytakingnotesandmakingcalls,andthere,inthemiddleofallofit,isafrantic-lookingAidenReid.He’sstillinhischefcoat,hisarmscrossedtightlyacrosshischestashespeaksheatedlywithanofficer,andIcanseethathishairismessylikehe’sbeenrunninghisfingersthroughitrepeatedly.Helooksoutofhismindwithworry.
Icantellwhenhefinallyseesus;hestopsmidsentenceandturnshisfacewithwideeyesandopenmouth,likehe’scompletelyforgottenwhathewasabouttosay.IwatchashelooksfromSophietomeandbackagain,tryingtomakesenseofherbeingback,especiallywithme.
“Sophie,”hebreathes,stompingacrossthecarpetandfallingtohiskneestopullheragainsthim.“Wherewereyou?DoyouhaveanyideahowworriedIwasaboutyou?Youcan’tdisappearlikethat.”Hepushesherback,lookingoverherbody.“Areyouhurt?Areyouokay?”
Shenodsfeebly.“I’mokay.”
“Wheredidyougo?”
“ToWanda’s,”Iofferquietly.
Aidenlooksupatmethen,andevenlikethis—frazzledandconfusedandslightlydazed—itbreaksmyhearttolookathim.Icanfeeleverykissandeverytouchallatonce,allofitrushingbackwithonelook.Heswallowsthicklyasherisestostand,staringatmelikeI’maghost
“Wanda’s?”
Inod.“ShetookanUber.”
“AnUber,”herepeatsflatly.Helooksdownatherwithaknittedbrow.“YoutookanUber?”
Shepullshisphoneoutofherpocket,handingitbacktohimsheepishly.“Ifoundtheaddressinyourphone.”
“Youfoundthe…JesusChrist,Sophie.That’sallthewayacrosstown.Doyouhaveanyideahowdangerousthiswas?”
Shelooksdownatherfeet,shiftingherweightfromonetotheother.“I’msorry.”
“Whydidyoudothis?”
“Because…Ithoughtyouweregoingtogivemeaway.”
Thisvisiblytakeshimbysurprise.“What?Whyonearthwouldyouthinkthat?”
“IheardyoutalkingtoAuntIristhismorning,”shemumbles.“Yousaidyouweregoingtobringmetoherhouse.”
Aidensighs,runninghishandsdownhisface.“Tovisit,Soph.Nottostay.YourauntandI…we’retryingtofindsomecommongroundwithyou.We’retryingnottofightsomuch.”Heduckstocupherchingently.“Iwouldnevergiveyouaway.Doyouunderstand?Never.”
“That’swhatCassiesaid,”Sophieanswers,hervoicetrembling.“ButIwasscared.”
“I’msorry,”Aidensayswearily.“Iwasgoingtotalktoyouaboutthistomorrow.Ihadnoideayouevenheardtheconversation.Butyouhavetounderstandthatthereisnothingyoucoulddoorsaythatwillmakemesendyouaway.Okay?”
Icantellit’sdifficultforhimtoacknowledgeme.IcanseeitinthewayhestaresoverSophie’sheadforamomentortwobeforefinallyturningmywaystiffly.“Thankyou,”hesays.“Forbringingherback.”
“Ofcourse,”Isayawkwardly.“Iwantedtomakesureshegothomesafely.”
“Right.”Hisjawworkssubtly.“Ofcourse.”
Irubmyarm,stillfeelingawkward.“Okay.Well.IguessI’dbetterleaveyouguystoitthen.”
Istarttoturnbacktowardthestairs,findingitincrediblydifficulttokeeplookingathim.Ihopethatwithtime,mybraincanatleastsmudgethememoryofhisface,becauseifIhavetorecallhisperfectfaceeveryotherday,Imightgoinsane.
Aidensurprisesmewhenhishanddartsouttosnatchmywrist,pullingmeback.“Isthatreallyallyouwanttosay?”
“What?”Iglancedownathishandholdingmebeforemeetinghiseyes.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Hiseyesseemtoburnastheyholdmine,thebrownadark,warmhoneyandthegreenarich,brightseafoam.Idon’tthinkmybraincouldforgetthoseiftheytried,unfortunately.
“IrisandIdidhavealongtalkthismorning,”hesays.“Shehadalotofinterestingthingstosay.”
“O-oh.”Mypulsequickens.“Really?”
“Yes.Really.Apparentlysomeoneploppeddownacrossfromheratacaféandconvincedhertocallmeandworkthingsout.”
“Oh,well…IfigureditwastheleastIcoulddo.”
“ButwhatIdon’tgetis…Why?”
“Whatdoyoumean,why?”
“Imean,ifyouwantedtotossusaside,ifweweremorethanyousignedupfor—whywouldyoucareaboutwhathappenedbetweenIrisandus?Whywouldyouinsistthatshetrytoworkthingsoutwithme?”
“I—”
“AndwhywouldyoutellherallabouthowwonderfulIwaswithSophie,andhowmuchwedeservedhappiness?”
“Oh,well,I—”
“Whywouldsomeonewhowantedtopushusasidecareaboutanyofthat?”
“Aiden,it’sjust—”
“Becauseshelovesyou,”Sophiepipesup.
Bothofuslookdownatherwithsurprise,herexpressionnonchalantand,frankly,annoyed.Likeshe’soverthisargument.
Aidenlooksbackupatmewithahopefulexpression,andeventhistinyflickerofneedinhiseyesisenoughtomakemystomachswoopwithanticipation.Neitherofussaysanything,andIthinkmaybeheiswaitingformetoconfirmordenythis,butIcan’tseemtofindmyvoice.IopenmymouthtoletitgapeasItrytoformwords,butSophie,onceagain,decidestohelpusout.
“Don’tworry,”shesaysinthatsameboredtone.“Dadlovesyoutoo.”
Iimaginemyexpressionappearsasastoundedashiswhenoureyesmeetagain,andInoticethewayhiseyessearchmineforanysignofalie.“Isthattrue?”
“I—”Iswallow,mymouthfeelingdry.“Yes.”
“Youloveme?”
ItrytolooksurerthanIfeel.“Yes,Ido.”
Hecatchesmebysurprisewhenhepullsmeagainsthim,myshockdissipatinginonlyamomentwhenhismouthcoversmine.There’sdesperationinhiskissthatmeldswithrelief,andmyarmswindaroundhisneckasifbyinstinct,tryingtobringmyselfasclosetohimasIcanpossiblybe.Myfingersshovethroughhishairashishandscurveagainstmyspinetopullmetighter,anditisn’tuntilweheartheclearingofathroatbehindusthateitherofusseemstorememberthesituationwe’rein.
IfeelmycheekswarmwithablushwhenInoticethepoliceofficerlingeringawkwardlynearby,tryingtolookanywherebutatusashegetsourattention.“Iguesswecancallthismatterclosedthen,yeah?”
“Oh.”Aidenlooksdazedlybetweenmeandhisdaughterbeforelaughterbubblesoutofhim.“Iguesswecan.Sorry,Officer.”
“Well,uh.We’llgetoutofyourhair.”Thepolicemanthrowshisfingerinacircle,roundinguphisfellowofficersbeforehegivesSophieapointedlook.“Nexttime,maybetellsomeonewhereyou’regoing,littlelady.”
Sophiepales.“Yes,sir.”
“Right.”Theofficer’smouthtiltswithasmileaswemoveoutofthewayofthestairs,andhegivesusbothanod.“Youfolkshaveagoodnight.”
Idon’tthinkanyofusmoveuntilwehearthefrontdoorclosedownstairs,AidenstilllookingatmelikeImightdisappearanymomentbeforehegiveshisattentiontohisdaughter.“YouandIhavealottotalkabout,Sophie.”
“Yeah.”Shehangsherhead.“Iknow.”
Hereleasesmethen,bendingtopresshislipstoSophie’shair.“ButI’mgladyou’reokay.”
“I’msorry,”shesaysagain.
“Whydon’tyouheaduptoyourroom,”hetellsher.“I’llbethereinaminute.”
Sophiegrimaces.“Areyouguysgoingtokissagain?”
“Yes,”Aidensays.“Weare.”Hesmileswhenshesticksouthertongue.“ButIthinkyouoweusthisone.”
“Fine,”shegroans.
Shetrudgesofftowardthestairsthatleaduptoherroom,andAidenwaitsuntilhehearsherbedroomdoorclosebeforeheregardsmeagain.
“Youknowyoushouldn’thaveliedtome,”hescolds.“It’sbeenashittyfewweeks.”
“Iknow.”Iturnmyfacedown.“Metoo.”
Hereachestotiltupmychin,hisknucklelingeringbelowitasheforcesmetolookathim.“Imissedyou,”headmits.“Sofuckingmuch,Cassie.”Hescoffsasheshakeshishead.“EvenyourdamnedSnapplefacts.”
Onesideofmymouthtiltsup.“Didyouknowthatnotwolipimprintsarethesame?”
“ThatfeelslikeoneI’dwanttotest.”
Ipressuponmytoes,closingmyeyesasIbrushmymouthagainsthis.“Imissedyoutoo.”
“Ifyouwanttomakeituptome,”hesaysashepullsmecloser,“movebackin.”
Ican’tevenpretendthatmyheartdoesn’tskipabeatasmylipscurlinagrin.“Areyouofferingmeanotherjob?”
“No.”Heshakeshishead,leaninginsothathislipshoverinchesfrommine.“I’mofferingyoumywholedamnedlife,ifyouwantit.”
Everythinginsidemelightsuplikeasparklerbombgoingupinaflare,myskintinglingandmyheartpoundingandallofmysensesgoingintooverdriveinwhatIcanonlydescribeaspurehappiness.Iknowthereismoretotalkabout,moretosay,butIthinktherewillbetimeforthatlater.IthinkrightnowIcanrevelinthefactthatwe’rehere,andthathestillwantsme—evenaftereverything.Rightnow,that’smorethanenough.
Ipretendtoconsiderthis.“Willyoubemakingpancakes?”
“Iwillnotbemakingpancakes.”
“Hmm.Well,inthatcase…”
Hesmilesashepullsmeinforanotherkiss,andImeltintoit,myheartdoingahappylittledanceasIfeelthatholeinmychestquietlyclose,likeitwasnevereventhere.Irealizethenthatitwasn’tsomuchofahole,butapiecethatwasmissing—anditwasrighthere,withthem,justwaitingformetopickitbackup.
“Oh,”hemurmurs,stillhalfkissingme.“Incaseitwasn’tclear…”Hislipspressagainstthecornerofmymouth,andIcanfeelhissmilethere,likeit’simprintedonmyskin.“Iloveyoutoo.”
I’msinkingintohiskissagain,mentallycalculatinghowlongwecangetawaywithmakingoutdownstairsbeforeSophiecomestoscoldus,andatthatthought,Ifeelamildflickerofpanic.IpushAidenaway,lookingathimseriously.“Wecannever,evertellSophiehowwemet.”
Aidenlaughs,alreadypullingmeinagain.“Whateveryousay,Cici.”
I’msurethatlaterwewillhavetofigureoutthiswholekissingthing;IknowthatSophiewillinsistonkeepingittoaminimum,asisherway,butIthinktonightwegetafreepass.It’snoteverydaythatyoufindlovebecauseofaboobycam.Ithinkthatwarrantsafewcelebratorykisses.IcanalreadyhearthejokesWandawillbemaking.There’snowayshewilleverstoptalkingaboutthis.
Strangely…IfindIabsolutelydon’tmind.I’verefreshedthepageathousandtimes.
Itsoundsexaggerative,butithastobetrue.
Butmybraincan’tseemtocomprehendtheideaofherjustbeing…gone.Withoutatrace.
ImentallycalculatethenumberofdaysbetweenthisoneandwhenIlastspoketoher—anditmakesmychesthurt,realizinghowmanythere’vebeen.They’veallblendedtogetherthislastmonth,andwitheverythingthat’shappened..
Ishouldhavesaidsomething.
Icouldhavesaidanything,anythingtoletherknowIdidn’tmeantostandherup.
ButIdidn’t,andnowshe’sgone.
Idon’tevenknowherrealname.
EPILOGUEAiden
ONEYEARLATER
Stoprefreshing,”Ilaugh.“It’snotgoingtochangeinfiveseconds.”
Cassieshootsmealookfromthekitchencounter,anadorablepoutathermouthassheglancesatthelaptopscreenagain.“Theysaidtheresultswouldbepostedtoday.”
“Right,butwehavenoideawhattime.You’regoingtodriveyourselfcrazycheckingobsessively.”Shebringsherthumbtohermouthtobiteathernailanxiously,andIpatthecouchbesideme.“Comeoverhereandsitwithme.”
She’sbeenrunningherselfraggedoverthependingresultsofherboards;thefinalhurdleshehastoclearinherlong-grad-schooljourney.Icompletelygetheranxiety,giventhatthistestwilltellwhetherallherhardworkhaspaidoffandifshewillbeafullylicensedoccupationaltherapist,butIhateseeingherstresslikeshehas.Shedragsherfeetasshecomesfromthekitchen,andIgrabherwristbeforeshecanpassbyme,tuggingherintomylap.
“It’sgoingtobefine,”Iassureher,pullingherfacetomychest.“You’regoingtopass.”
Shemakesafrustratedsound.“WhatifIdon’t?”
“Thenyoutryagain.Itwon’tbetheendoftheworld.But…itdoesn’tmatter,sinceyouwilldefinitelypass.”
“I’mscaredoffailingit,”sheadmitsquietly.“I’vealreadytakensomuchhelpfromyou,andifIcan’tstartcontributingsoon,then—”
“Youdon’thavetocontribute,”Ichuckle.“Idon’tcarewhatyoudo.Aslongasyoudoitherewithme.”
“Whydoesthatsoundperverted?”
“Ithinkyou’reprojecting.”
Shescoffs.“SureIam.”
“StopworryingorI’llcallWanda.”
Shegroans.“Don’tdothat.She’llcomeover.”
“So?”
“She’llbringFredwithher.”
Ilaugh.“Well,theyaremarriednow.”
“Right.Buttheyarewaytootouchy-feely.It’sbeenthreemonthssincethewedding.Theyhavetostopkissingallthetimeatsomepoint,right?”
“YousoundlikeSophie,”Itease.
Shemakesaface.“Thismustbewhatshefeelslikewhenshecatchesuskissing.”
“Wandawouldtellyoutostopbeingsilly.”
“Yeah,well.Wandadidn’thavetositthroughatimedexamquestioningeverythingshelearned.”
“You’refine,Cassie.”Ikissherhair.“Everythingisgoingtobefine.”
“Youmightnotbesayingthatafteryourgirlfriendtanksherfuture.”
Icupherchintoturnupherface,smilingatherdisgruntledexpression.Irubmythumbalongherlowerlip.It’samazingthatafterayearofhavingherhere,Icouldstillbesostruckbyher.HerbrightblueeyesarelikeaclearskythatIcouldgetlostin,andIdo,frequently—andforwhatmustbethethousandthtime,I’mjustgratefulthatshe’shere.
Ileanintokissher,enjoyingthewaysomeofthetensionleavesherbody.“Dowhateveryouwantwithyourfuture.AslongasI’mpartofit.”
“Gosh.”Shesmilesagainstmymouth.“You’vegottencheesy.”
“Youlikecheesy.”
“Maybealittle.”
“Stopworrying,”Iurge.
“Butwhatif—”
Ikissheragain.“Stop.”
“ButIcould—”
Ikissherharder.“Stop.”
“Aiden,butwhat—”
“Hey,”avoicecallsfromthekitchen.“Youpassed.”
Bothofusjoltapart,noticingaveryannoyedeleven-year-oldjudgingus.Sheshakesherheadasshepointstothecomputer.“Youpassed,”Sophiesaysagain.
“What?”CassielooksfromSophietometoSophieagain.“Ipassed?”
Sophiechecksthescreenagain.“That’swhatitsays.”
“OhmyGod.”Cassie’sfacelightsupasshethrowsherarmsaroundmyneck.“Ipassed!”
Shepullsmeinforakissthathasmeclosingmyeyesandwishingverymuchthatwewerealone,andIkeepmyarmstightaroundherbodytokeepheragainstme
“Ugh,”Sophiegroans.“Youpromisedtostopkissingsomuch.”
IsmileagainstCassie’smouth.“We’recelebrating.”
“Well,dosomethinglessgrosstocelebrate,”Sophiehuffs.
“Actuallythat’sagreatidea,”Isay,leaningbacktoshootheragrin.“WhichiswhyImadereservationstonight.”
Sophieperksup.“We’regoingout?”
“Mm-hmm.”IrubaslowcircleagainstCassie’sback.“IinvitedIrisandhernewgirlfriend.WandaandFredtoo.”
Cassiestilllookssurprised.“Youmadereservations?”
“Yep.”
“ButwhatifIdidn’tpass?”
Ibrushmyfingersagainsthertemple,sweepingoneloosestrandofherhairawaytotuckitbehindherear.Mypalmlingersagainsthercheek,andinthatclearblueskyofhereyes,Icanseemywholelifelookingbackatme.
“Iknewwe’dhavesomethingtocelebrate,”Itellherquietly.
Hersmileisslow,herlipstiltingononesideandthentheotheruntilshe’sbeaming,andwhensheleansintokissmeagain,IcanhardlyevenhearSophie’shalf-heartedgroaning.Ithinkshe’llletushavethisone,mostlikely.Iletmyhanddrifttomypocketwherethelittlevelvetboxsits,grinningagainstCassie’smouth,becausewedohaveplentytocelebrate.
Andwe’rejustgettingstarted.It’sprobablyastupididea.
WhenMarcohadsuggestedIcheckitout,Ithinkhe’dmeantitasajoke.Justanotherwayofribbingmefornotdating.
SowhyamIsittinghere,staringatmycomputerwithafreshlymadeaccountforOnlyFans?
Idoaquickscroll,andhonestly,Ican’ttellthedifferencebetweenthisandanyotherpornsite.Thatbringsmebacktothequestion:WhyamIhere?
I’mabouttologoutandforgetthiseverhappened,becauseMarcocanneverknow…butthenIseeheraccountasasuggestion.
Idon’tknowwhatitisabouther;herfaceiscovered,herhairisabrightlavenderthathastobesomesortofwig—butsomethingaboutherpicturedrawsmein.
Iclickherprofile,scrollingthroughthefreecontentjustoutofcuriosity.
Cici.
MaybeIwon’tlogoutafterall..
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Pleaseallowmetogetthisoffmychestfirstandforemost:holyfoolofaTook,Ipublishedabook.
Andby“Ipublishedabook,”Imeanafantasticteamofpeople—thatIdonotdeserveandwillneverfullybeabletoexpressmygratitudetoward—didamillionthingsthatIamnotsmartenoughtocomprehendtoputmywordsoutintheworldallwhilepettingmyhairandassuringmethat“they’vegotthis.”Let’sacknowledgethetrueheroes,eh?
Innoparticularorder:
CindyHwang,mywonderfuleditor,whopracticallypluckedmeoutofthegutterandpushedametaphoricalpeninmyhandandsaid:goforthandbedirty.Meetingherchangedmylifefortheverybest,andhowshecontinuestoputupwithmyshenanigansandbarrageofconstantneedyemailsisbeyondme,butIamforevergratefulforit;JessicaWatterson,anactualangelinagentform,whoiskindenoughtowithstandmoreanxioustextsandemailsthanonepersonshouldeverhavetoendure,allwhile(asonedoeswhiledealingwithme)pettingmyhairandtellingmeeverythingisgoingtobegreat;TheRealOnes?:agroupofladiesthatarealsokindenoughtoendureseverallengthyrantsthatmostlyconsistsof:omgIcan’tdothisisthisterribleshouldIhideinmyclosetallwhile(youguessedit)pettingmyhairandtellingmeeverythingisgoingtobegreat;mytallgirlfriendforalways,always,alwaysbeingtheretoyellatmeabouthowgreatIamevenwhenIdon’tbelieveit(rarelyever),andforbeingaconstantbrightspotinasometimesdrearyspace;mymeemaw(she’snotmucholderthanme,butherspiritisthatofameemaw,andweloveherforit)whoreadthisbookatleastfourdozentimesinvariousbitsandpiecesallwhile(Isthisjokeoldyet?)pettingmyhairandtellingmeIwasanidiotfordoubtingmyself;mycommon-lawwife,whogotsogoodatrecognizinganimpendingmeltdownthatshecannowjustlookatmyfaceandsay:Doweneedtogototheofficeandtalk?Notmuchofahairpetter,thatone,buthervoiceofreasonkeptmesaneonmoredaysthanI’dliketoadmit;myemotionalsupportgirlfriend,whohasstuckbymethroughtheworstoftimesevenwhenIwasn’tsureIdeservedit,alwaysknowsexactlywhatIneedtohearandwhohasyettoforsakemeformyterriblepunslikethesaintsheis,andtheyarepun-ishinglybad;myactualgrandmother(non-meemawtype),whoputaJohannaLindseybookinmyhandonesummerandwascoolenoughnottotellmymomtherewas(gasp)sexinit—Iwouldnotbeherewithoutit;totherestofmyfamilyforproudlyshoutingaboutthissexybooktoallwhowouldlistenbecausethat’stheirdaughter/sister/cousin/niecethat’swritingthatsmut,thankyouverymuch;JessicaMangicaroandKristinCipollafortheirsuperiortasteindadjokesandTaylorSwift(respectively)andformakingmethinkpeoplemightactuallywanttoreadthisbook(andforbeingawesomeatconvincingothersthattheywanttoreadthisbook);AngelaKimforenduringabarrageofemailsfromacertainauthorwhowillremainnamelessduringthestressfulcatastrophethatiscopyedits(andalwaysbeingincrediblyhelpfulandgenerallylovely,despiteherquestionabletasteinBatmanportrayals);mytherapist(yes,Iamthankingmytherapist)forstitchingmeupandputtingmebacktogetherduringthelastcoupleofyears.CanconfirmIamonlyherebecauseofherkindness,herwisdom,andherabilitytositthroughhoursofmeramblingallwhilepettingmyhairandtellingme—(okay,yougetit);MonicaRoefortheamazingcover,aswellaseveryoneatPenguinCreative(specialshout-outtoanamazingArtDirector,RitaFrangie,forshowingmethatbluewastheobviouschoiceforthecovercolor,westanavisionarygenius);AlainaChristensen,AlissaTheodor,andKristindelRosariofordoingsuchanamazingjobondesignandgraphicsandmakingthosemessageexchangesreallypop(theymadethebook*chef’skiss*);everyoneatBerkleywhodidallthosemillionthingsthatmadethisbookpossible;toeverysinglepersonwhohaspoppedintomyDMsandguidedmethroughthestrangelandthatissocialmedia,adoptingmeintotheirlittlecommunities,shoutingabouttheconceptofthisbook,theexcerpts—butmostlyforputtingupwithmyramblingsandmyinabilitytohavecasualconversations;andtoyou,dearreader,forpickingupthisbook,forsiftingthroughmybabblinggratitude(ifyou’vemadeitthisfar),formakingthisreal
WhenIlookbackatmyfifteen-year-oldself—sittinginherroomwithabulky,Gatewaydesktop—peckingawayatMicrosoftWordandtryingtowritesomestrange(andtrulyawful)romancenovelbecauseshecouldn’tgetenoughofthebooksshe’dbeenswipingfromhergrandmother’sshelf…Icanhonestlysaythatthatgirlhadnoideashewouldsomedayhaveherownbooksittingonshelves(evenhergrandmother’s,becausesheisquitefrankly,thecoolest,andhas,atthetimeofwritingthis,preorderedacopy).Everystepofthisjourneyhasbeensurreal,andfun,andterrifying,andincredible.Nomatterwhathappensgoingforwards,Iamhappytolookbackatthatgangly,starry-eyedteenagerandknowthatshedidit,evenwhensheneverdreamtshecould.
Oh,andtothatpersonIstealthecoversfrom…thankyouforkeepingmestarryeyed,afterallthistime.KEEPREADINGFORANEXCERPTFROM
TheFakeMate
THENEXTBERKLEYROMANCENOVELBYLANAFERGUSONMackenzie
I’mseeingsomeone.”
Inretrospect,theliecomesmucheasierthanIthoughtitwould.ItfeelsickylyingtothewomanwhohasraisedmesinceIwastwelve,butinthefaceofmyseventhbaddate(orhasitbeeneight,now?I’vehonestlylostcount)inthreemonths—italsofeelsnecessary.
MygrandmotherMoirahasareactionthatisasimmediateasitisexpected.“What?Who?Someonefromwork?IsitsomeoneIknow?”
IknowifIdon’tshutdownthislineofquestioningquickly,itwillspiralintoafull-blowninterrogation.
“No,”Isayquicklyintothephone.“Youdon’tknowhim.”
Ithinkthatthispartatleastisn’tasmuchofalie,sinceIdon’tknowhimeither.Since,ah…hedoesn’texist.
Mygrandmothermeanswell,shedoes,buthertasteinmen—betheyhumanorshifter—isdownrightterrible.Ihavebeentomovieswithshiftermodel-trainexpertsthatwantedtoscentmeonthefirstdate.IhavegottencoffeewithhumandataanalystswhoaskedifIcouldsomehowkeepmytailinhumanform(Idon’tevenwanttoexplorethethoughtprocessthere);everybaddatehasonlysolidifiedtheideathatIambetterofffocusingonmyworkratherthanmygrandmother’swishfulthinkingthatIwillfindanicemantosettledownwithandgiveheralitterofgrandchildren.AsifIdon’thaveenoughtodealwith.SometimesIthinkGranisnobetterthanthedatesshesendsmeoffwithwhenitcomestomyomegastatus.
It’srare,whatIam,butitdoesn’tmakemeallthatdifferentfromanyothershifter.Maybeinthepastitdid,backwhenshifterswerestilllivinginsecretundergroundhierarchysystemsunbeknownsttoeveryoneelse,butnowitjustmeansthatIhaveanannoyingstigmafollowingmearoundthatI’msomehowbetterinbedthanothershifters.ThatI’mbetteroffbarefootandpregnantthanparticipatingintheworkingclass.Iswear,anyoneI’veevertoldhasexpectedmetospontaneouslygointoheatatwhim.
ThatiswhyImostlykeepittomyselfnowadays.
“Howlonghaveyoubeenseeinghim?Howoldishe?Isheashifter?Iknowhowbusyyouare,dear,butI’mnotgettinganyyounger,anditwouldbesonicetohearthepitter-patterof—”
“Gran,itiswaytoosoontobethinkingthatfarahead.”Ishudderatthethoughtofcryingbabies.“Ithasn’tbeenthatlong.It’sstillnew.Like,verynew.Practicallystillhastheplasticwraponit.”
“Oh,Mackenzie,whydidn’tyoutellme?Areyoutryingtobreakmyheart?”
“Youknowworkhasbeeninsane.We’vehadfourbarfightsinthelastmonth—nottomentionthepileupsfromalltheblackicewe’vebeengetting…It’sbeenanutternightmareintheER.IthinkI’mgettingcarpaltunnelfromallthestitchesI’veadministeredlately.”
“Youworktooharddear,couldn’ttheytransferyousomewherenotso…fast-paced?”
It’saquestionsheasksoften,butsheknowsmyansweralready.IloveworkingintheER.Evenafterthemostharrowingofdays,IgotobedatnightknowingthatI’msavinglives.
“Gran…”
“Right,right.Sotellmeaboutyourmysteryman.Atleastgivemeaspecies,dear.”
Humanwouldbesafer—sinceit’sharderforinterspeciescouplestoprocreate,butIknowthemostobviouschoicetokeepherappeased.
“He’sashifter,”Isay,stillfeelingickyforlying.“You’dlovehim.”ImakeaquickdecisionbasedsolelyonknowingthatGranwillseerightthroughmeifItrytosayImetmymysterymananywhereelse,sinceIdon’treallygoanywhereelse.“Imethimatwork.”
Icanpracticallyhearherclickingherheelstogether.She’sprobablydoingalittledanceinherkitchenaswespeak,thinkingthathergranddaughterisfinallygoingtosettledownwithanicewolfwhowillgiveherandmygrandpagrandchildren.Itmakesmefeelthatmuchmoreguilty.Thinkingaboutthemodeltrainsstrengthensmyresolvethough
“Ihavetomeethim.WhencanImeethim?Youcouldbringhimtodinner…Youhaven’tbeentovisitintoolong,honey.Itwouldbesonicetoseeyouandyournewfriend.”
“No,no,”Isayquickly.“Itoldyou,it’snew.We’retakingthingsslow.Idon’twanttojinxit,youknow?Itcould…makethingsawkwardatwork,youknow?”
“Atleastgivemeaname,willyou?”
Ipanic,unabletothinkofasinglename.Therearedozensofeligiblefakeboyfriendsworkingonmyflooratthisexactmoment,andIcan’trecallasinglename.IsthispunishmentforlyingtoGran?Istheuniversecursingmeforbeingabadgranddaughter?Icanfeelmyhippocampuspracticallymeltingintoapuddleofgooinmyhead,blankingonevenonesyllablethatmightwrapupmypoorly-plannedlieinaneatlittlebow.
“Oh,well…”IcanfeelmymouthgoingdryasIscrambleforsomething,anything.“Hisname?Hisnameis—”
Now,IcancountononehandthenumberofhospitalstaffatDenverMemorialthatIdon’tvibewith.OneofthebenefitsofbeingoneoftheyoungestERdoctors(attwenty-nine)isthateveryoneonstafftreatsyoulikethebaby,andwhileitcangetannoyingsometimes,itmeansthatIhavemadeveryfewenemieswhileworkinghereoverthelastyear.Infact,IwouldevengosofarastosaythatmostpeopleI’vemetwhileworkingherelikeme.Butthatdoesn’tmeantherearen’texceptions.Imean,I’mlikable,Ithink.Aslongastheotherpartyinquestionisn’ttryingtosniffmyneck.
However,thatisn’ttosaythateveryoneofmyworkrelationshipsareallsunshineandroses.Andofcourse,it’swiththisthoughtthatthebreakroomdooropensfromacrosstheroom,revealingthick,midnighthairthatnearlygrazesthetopofthedoorframeattachedtothemassiveformofoneofthefewphysiciansthatfallintothe“don’tvibewith”category.Hispermanentfrownsetinawidepinkmouthturnsmyway,settledbelowpiercingblueeyesthatregardmeinthesamewaytheyalwayshaveinthetimeI’veknownhim—asternlookthatsayshe’sunhappytohaveanotherliving,breathingpersoninthesameroomhe’sentered.Andofcourse,becausetheuniverseseemstobepunishingmeformywhiteliesbeforeIcanevenfinishgettingthemout—itishisname,unfortunately,thatisthefirstonethatmybrainseemstobeabletoformulate.
“Noah,”ItellGraninahushedtone,sothathecan’thearme.“HisnameisNoahTaylor.”
Granisgushing,hervoicefadingasIwatchthesurliestshifterI’veevermetgivemehisbackinordertocrowdthecoffeepot,gearsturninginmyhead.It’snottheworstideaI’veeverhad,Ithink.Imean,it’scertainlynotthebest,buttherearemoreterribleoptions.Probably.Andbesides,it’snotlikehewouldactuallyhavetomeetheroranything.Maybehesnapsapicturewithmeandcracksasmileforthefirsttimeinhisentirelife.Thatcouldgivemeatleastafewweeksreprieve,right?Whatcouldbetheharminaninnocentlittlepicture?SurelyevenNoahTaylortakesselfies.
Actually,Iwouldn’tputmoneyonthat,nowthatIthinkaboutit.
“Gran,Ineedtogetbacktowork,”Isay,cuttingoffherincessantlineofquestioningthatIcan’thearanymoreanyway.“I’llcallyoutomorrow,okay?”
“Allright,butIwantmoredetailswhenyoudo.Don’tthinkthisisthelastofthisconversation.”
“Right,”Itellher,absolutelyknowingitisn’t.“Surething.”
I’mstillstaringatNoah’sbackashepourscoffeeintohismug,watchinghiswideshouldersriseandfallwithasighafterwhatmusthavebeenalongnight.Noahisaninterventionalcardiologistonstaffatthehospital,nottomentiontheheadofhisdepartment,andhecomesinprettyhighdemand.Anyonethatwalksthroughourdoorswithabadtickergetsaninstantreferral,andfromwhatIcantell,theguymightactuallysleephere.I’mnotconvincedhehasn’tmadeaden(nopunintended,especiallysinceourkindhaven’tsleptindensinlike,acentury)ofsomesortinthebasement.He’sbeenworkingherefarlongerthanIhave,yearseven—butittookmeonlyonemeetingtorecognizehowmuchofanassheis.EspeciallysinceinourfirstmeetinghesaidthatI“barelylookedoldenoughtotieasuture.”Let’sjustsayhe’snotonetorubelbowswithhisfellowshiftersforcamaraderie’ssakealone.
Hecatchesmestaringwhenhefinallyturnstotakeasipfromhiscup,oneperfectbrowraisinginquestionashenoticesme.“CanIhelpyou?”
“Maybe,”Isayhonestly.“Whatsortofnighthaveyouhad?”
HelooksuncertainastowhyIwouldaskthequestion,orwhyIwouldevencareinthefirstplace,pausingforamomentbeforehehuffsoutabreath.
“Horrible,ifyoumustknow,”hetellsme.“Twoheartattacks.Backtoback.I’veplacedsevenstentsinthelastfivehours.Andifthatisn’tenough,nowIhavetodealwiththedamnboardandtheirignorant—”Henarrowshiseyes,seemingtorealizehe’sactuallyholdingaconversationwithafellowemployeethatdoesn’tinvolveglowering.“Whydoyouask?”
“Oh,because…professionalcourtesy?Youlooked…tired.Soundslikeyouhadonehellofanight.”
Noahappearsunimpressedbymyattemptatfriendlyconversation.Ithinkidlyit’sprobablythefirsttimeanyonehaseverattempteditwithhim.“Exactly.SoforgivemeifI’mnotuptochat.”
Irollmyeyes.“Asifthat’sanythingnew.”
“Right,”hesaysflatly,holdinguphismug.“IthinkI’lltakethisinmyoffice.”
“No,wait!”
Noahturns,thatperplexedexpressionstilletchedintohisfeaturesashe’sprobablyrealizingthatthisisthelongestconversationheandIhavehadinatleastthelastsixmonths;Ican’tactuallyrememberthelasttimehereturnedmypolitehellowhenIpasshiminthecorridor,nowthatIthinkaboutit.Ithinkthelasttimewespoke,hetoldmemyshoewasuntiedwithoutevenslowinghispace.I’mnotsurethatevencountsasconversation.
He’slookingatmewithannoyancenow,likeI’mburninghisprecioustime.“Yes?”
Ican’tbelieveI’mconsideringaskingtheAbominableAssofColoradotohelpme.ItmightbetheworstideaI’veeverhad,butI’minitnow.
“Iwaswondering”—IknowI’mgoingtoregretthis—“ifyouwouldtakeapicturewithme.”
Noahlooksutterlyconfused.“Pardon?”
“Apicture.Maybeyoucouldsmileinittoo?I’mwillingtopay.Inbettercoffee,orsnacks—”Helookslikehedoesn’tknowthedefinitionoftheword,andhonestly,thattracks.“Okay,sonosnacks.Whateveryouwant.Ijustneedapicture.”
“Explaintomeasituationwheretakingapicturewithmehelpsyousomehow.”
“Well,yousee,that’scomplicated.”Noahblinksatmeforaboutthreesecondsbeforeheturnstoleave,seeminglydonewiththeconversation,andIcallafterhimagain.“Okay,okay,”Isigh.“Look.Iknowthisisgoingtosoundridiculous,butIneedtouseyou.”
Hiseyebrowsnearlyshootintohishair.“Excuseme?”
“It’snotabigdeal,it’sjust,Ineededsomeonefromwork,andIsortofblankedwhensheasked,andyournamesortofspilledoutsinceyouwererightthere,andallIneedisapicture,really.Ithinkthatwouldbuymesometimeatleastto—”
“WhatonEarthareyoutalkingabout?”
Itakeadeepbreath,regrettingthisalready.“Ineedyoutobemyfakeboyfriend.”
Helingersinthedoorwayforagoodnumberofseconds,oneswhereIcanfeelmystomachchurninembarrassment.IknowthatIshouldhavegivenGranarandomname.IknowthatIcouldhavetoldherIwasfuckingarandommalenurseonthesideandproperlysilencedherwithablush,butIdidn’tdoanyofthosethings,andifIcan’tbuymyselfsometime,I’mlookingatfun-filledFridaynightwithsomeeggheadexplainingcryptocurrencytome.(DidImentionthatIhavebeenonsomereallybaddates?)
Noahtakesasipfromhismug,swallowsit,thenclosesthebreakroomdoor.Hecrossesthespacetopasstheotherlittlewoodentablesthatfilltheroom,hisframethatseemsridiculouslytoobigwhensettlingintooneofthepaddedchairsontheoppositesideoftheoneI’moccupying.Foramomenthesaysnothing,studyingmewithamercuriallookastheoldwallclockticksthesecondsawaytomyright,butthenhetakesanothersipfromhismug,swallowingitwithabobofhisAdam’sapplebeforehesetsitdownonthetable.
“Explain.”
—
So.”Noah’scupisalmostempty,hisexpressionhardlyanydifferentthanithadbeentenminutesagowhenIbegantoexplainmyhorribledatinghistoryandmyaversiontoexperiencingevenonemorebaddate—allleadinguptomylie.“Youwantmetopretendtobeyourboyfriend…sothatyoudon’thavetogetaboyfriend?”
“Youdon’tevenhavetodoanything.”
“Ifailtoseetheneedformeatallthen.”
I’mprettysureI’veneverbeenthisclosetoNoah.Atleastnotforthislongatime.Icansenseasharptingeofsuppressantsrollingoffhim,whichIfindodd;mostmaleshifterschoosetoforegothem,toohungupontheirmaleegotomissoutoncloudingaroomwiththeirscentinthehopesthatafemaleshifterwillcomerunning.Maybeit’saprofessionaldecision?Hisscentmightnotbepleasant.Although,IthinkIcandiscreditthattheory,giventhatdespitehisattemptstohideit,Icanfaintlymakeitoutevenunderthechemicaltangofhissuppressants,makingmethinkheneedsastrongerdose.NotthatI’mcomplaining,sinceIthinkitmightbeanicescent.It’swoodsy.Likepineneedlesandcrispair.Itremindsmeofrunninginthesnowonallfours.
Butthisisn’twhatIshouldbefocusingon.
“Well,apicture,maybe.SoIcanproveyou’rereal.Thatwillholdheroffforafewweeks,atleast,withmyschedule.Surelyyouknowhowtosmile,right?Youcanthinkofsomethingyouenjoy,likeglaringatsmallchildrenorcriticizingbaristasatStarbucks.”
“Idon’tdoeitherofthosethings,”hesnorts.“Thankyouverymuch.”
Ishrug.“Itwasaguess.Comeon,itwillcostyounothing,andyou’dbehelpingmeout.”
“Helpingyouout.”Noahlookspensiveashestaresdownintohismug,raisingittohismouthtodrinkthelastofhiscoffee.“AndtellmeagainwhyIwoulddothat?”
Iscowl.It’shonestlysoannoyingthathemightbeoneofthemostgood-lookingmenI’veevercomeintocontactwith—shifterorotherwise.Hisfeaturesareangular,andhisblueeyesaresharpasifheseesmorethanyouwanthimto,andIwon’tpretendthathisaquilinenosedoesn’trustleupideasabouthavingitsomewhereIshouldn’tevenbeconsidering…ifonlyhispersonalitywasn’tsosour.
“Intraspeciescamaraderie?”Noahlooksunmoved,andIgroan.“Seriously,woulditkillyoutodosomethingniceforonce?Thisisbasedontheassumptionthatyourecognizewhatdoingsomethingnicelookslikeandknowhowtoproperlyexecutethetask.”
Noahisstudyingmeagain,eyesmovingovermysandyblondehairandmyambereyesandevenmymouththatiscurrentlypressedintoapout,almostlikehe’sconsidering.What,Ican’tbesure.Ican’ttellifhe’sthinkingabouthelpingmeout,orifhe’stryingtofindthemostsatisfyingwaytotellmeI’mscrewed.
“Ihaveneverbeenmuchforintraspeciescamaraderie,”hesaysfinally,andIfeelmystomachsink,knowingthiswastheworstideaI’veeverhad.“But…”
Iperkup.“But?”
“Ithinkwecanreachanagreementthatismoremutuallybeneficial.”
Nowit’smyturntolookconfused.Ican’tthinkofasinglethingthatNoahTaylorwouldneedfromme,oranyoneelseforthatmatter,giventhatI’veneverseenhimspeaktoanyoneforevenafractionofthetimehe’sbeenspeakingtomewithoutbarkingordersatsomepoint.
“AndwhatcouldIpossiblydoforyou?”
Honestly,I’mpreparingfortheworst.He’sprobablygoingtoaskmetopassthebuckonhisconsultstooneoftheothercardiologists,whichwouldbeatotalpainintheass,giventhatheknowshe’sthemosthighlyrequestedone.Maybehe’llaskmetocleanhisofficeforthepureenjoymentofwatchingmedoit.ThatfeelslikethesadistictortureNoahmightbeinto.Ican’tevenimaginewhathisofficelookslike.Ibetitdoesn’tevenneedcleaning.Heprobablyhasplasticcoversonallthechairsandsurfaces.Icouldoffertoputinadmissionordersforhimforsomeagreedonspanoftime.Thatwouldbeannoyingbutdoable,atleast.DefinitelyworthstavingoffafewmorehorribledatessinceIamapparentlytoospinelesstosimplysay“no”tomyGran’spuppydogeyes.
OhGod.Whatifheasksmeforsex?I’vepeggedhimassomecelibatesourpusswhogetsbywithangrymasturbationontheweekends,butwhatifNoahislikeeveryotherhorndogI’vecomeacross?Thatisabsolutelytheonethingthatiscompletelyoffthetable,andIwillkickhiminhisstupidlylargeshinsifheisdumbenoughtosuggestit.It’snotlikeheknowsI’manomega;there’snowayhecould,sosurelyitisn’tgoingtobeanythingkinkyhe’safter.
ItensewhenNoahleansforwardinhischair,hisfingerslacingtogetherashishandsrestonthetable,andhispiercingeyesmeetminewiththatblazingintensitythattheyneverseemtolosewhenIamunluckyenoughtocrosspathswithhim.Theydon’tlookliketheeyesofsomeonewhoisabouttoaskmeforsex,atleast.Ormaybetheydo,giventhecontext.Idon’tknow.It’shardtothinkwithhimstaringatmelikeheis.Butasitturnsout,Noahhasnointentionofaskingmeforanykindofsordidfavors.WhatNoahproposesismuchworse,andthecraziestpartisthewayhisexpressionabsolutelydoesn’tchange,notevenatinybitwhenhesays:
“Ineedamate.”
Nowit’smyturntoblinkathim.Stupidly,ifIhadtoguess.“Youneed…amate?”
Noahnods,likeit’saperfectlyreasonablethinghe’ssaid.Likehedidn’tjustproposetheshifterequivalentofmarriage—andthelastthingI’minterestedin—toaveritablestrangerthatIdon’tthinkheevenlikes(I’mnottakingitpersonallyoranything;hedoesn’tseemtolikeanyone)overbadhospitalloungecoffee.
“Andfast,”headds.
Ireally,reallyshouldhavetoldGranIwassleepingwithanurse.LanaFergusonisasex-positivenerdwhoseworksnevershyfromspiceorsass.AfadedFabiocoverfounditswayintoherhandsatfifteen,andshe’sneverbeenthesamesince.Whensheisn’twriting,youcanfindherrandomlysingingshowtunes,arguingoverwhichBatmanissuperior,andsubjectingherfriendstotheextendededitionsofTheLordoftheRings.LanalivesmostlyinherownheadbutcansometimesbefoundchasinghercorgithroughthecoppiceofthegreatAmericanoutdoors.
CONNECTONLINE
LanaFerguson.com
Lana-Ferguson-104378392171803
lanafergusonwrites
lanafergusonwritesWhat’snextonyourreadinglist?
Discoveryournextgreatread!
Getpersonalizedbookpicksandup-to-datenewsaboutthisauthor.
Signupnow.
_143149737_