I swallow and walk toward him. When Aiden sees me approaching, he offers what I interpret as an insincere apology to the woman he’s talking with, a wide smile aimed my way.
“They’re called cart corrals, by the way. I looked it up. Didn’t want you to lose sleep over it. And, since the internet never lies, we can continue on with our lives knowing the correct terminology,” he says.
My heart wants to burst, and more bricks fall.Cart corrals. What a silly thing to be excited about. I don’t try to hide my grin, courtesy of his investigative research on my behalf. “How kind of you. Tonight I’ll climb into bed and have blissful dreams of a world where everyone puts their carts away.”
“My work here is done.” Aiden tucks his hands into his pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet. “This isn’t too bad, right? I thought it was going to be a lot worse, and I was apprehensive as shit on the Metro ride over. My friend might live to see another day.”
I laugh. “Look at you being generous. I think it’s definitely bearable.”
“Fuck it, we might as well go all in, right?”
“It’s too late to turn back now. The pictures can only get better.”
“I appreciate your optimism, Maggie, but the day is still young. Plenty of time to derail the progress we’ve made.”
“Speaking of young, I have a question for you.”
“Let’s hear it,” Aiden says.
“How old are you?”
“I’m forty-five. I turn forty-six in July, and knowing I’m closer to fifty than forty is fucking terrifying. What about you?”
“I’m thirty-four. My birthday is in April.”
“If I knew anything remotely cool about astrology or moon signs, I’d use them to try and impress you. But I don’t, so I’ll have to settle on something less interesting. What are some of your hobbies?”
“I love to read and spend time with friends. Jeremiah, who you know, and Lacey.” I point to the pair watching us. Aiden waves. “When the weather’s nice, I rollerblade to the museums. I like to eat, and go to the occasional sporting event. My favorite holiday is Halloween, and I love decorating. I prefer spending time at home rather than at a bar or club. The older I get, the more I appreciate those quiet moments on the couch. Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“Don’t apologize. You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m enjoying learning about you.”
“What do you do in your rare free time?” I ask.
“I work a lot, which I’m sure you can commiserate with,” he says. “Sports are something I enjoy, too. Watching, obviously. Pretty sure I’d tear a hamstring if I tried to be semi-athletic. I like to read. Thrillers are my favorite, but I’m open to any work of fiction. Speaking of, you didn’t say. What’s your genre preference?”
“Romance. There’s something so gratifying about picking up a book and knowing the two characters you fall in love with on the pages will fall in love with each other, too.”
“My daughter loves romance novels. Can’t get her to put them down. You’ll have to tell me some of your favorite authors. She’s always looking for new books to read.”
My breath catches in my throat and the world spins to a screeching halt.
“You have a daughter?”
TEN
MAGGIE
“Yeah, I do,”Aiden says. Tension is painted on my face, an obvious accessory as he pulls back. “Oh, shit. Did you think I was—fuck. Sorry. That was my fault for casually dropping a bomb on you. I should have started this whole speech with the important information that I'm also divorced. I’ve been single for years.”
“You’re divorced?”
“Yeah. Going on five years now.”
“Sorry, I don’t hate kids. I just thought maybe you were a scumbag, and I was caught off guard.”
He laughs, a deep rumble I feel all the way down to my toes. “No, I’m just a dipshit man who got excited to talk to you and said everything out of order. Let me try this again: Hi, Maggie. I’m Aiden. I’m forty-five, divorced, and single. I also have a daughter. Want to be friends?”
“Only if you tell me about your daughter. What’s she like?”
