Aaron nodded as he held the car door open for me. It was a thirty minute drive to the private airport where we were leaving from. On the way, I actually fell asleep, waking only when Aaron shook me by the shoulder.
“Don’t think you’re sleeping this entire flight,” he warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I giggled when he caught my lower lip in between his teeth. I pressed away from him, to head up the stairs to the private jet. Sure enough, my husband barely gave the pilot time to turn off seatbelt light before he was helping me out of my chair and directing us toward the private main bedroom. It was the most delightful plane ride I’d ever taken.
****
“Stunning.”
I shivered as Aaron’s compliment touched my ears. I looked up in the mirror to catch him admiring the long, royal blue dress I wore. My long locs were pulled back in a tight top bun, and a pair of diamond earrings that Aaron had just given me hung from my ears. I turned, peering at him from head to toe. He wore a tailored tuxedo, which highlighted his masculine physique to perfection.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and curled my hand around his offered arm. “Tell me again who will be there tonight,” I said as we moved to the elevator.
“Why? Thinking of running away with an artist?”
I looked up, smirking. “I think you just made a joke,” I said around my laughter.
“I have a sense of humor. When I want to.”
“Which isn’t very often.”
He lifted and dropped his shoulder. “Not much in the world to laugh about.”
I rolled my eyes. “And Mr. Cynicism is back.”
“You love me anyway.”
My belly tightened. My mouth opened but the words refused to come out. I still hadn’t been able to say those three words back to him. Every night and morning he told me he loved me since that first time, and every time I remained silent, biting my bottom lip like I was then.
“You’re going to rub your lipstick off,” he stated, frowning—the disappointment evident in his voice.
Before I was able to come up with a response, the elevator doors opened and classical music from our luxury hotel’s ballroom floated to my ears.
“Aaron, we’ve been awaiting your arrival,” a man’s voice said as soon as we stepped off.
I glanced up and was greeted with a smiling older man who seemed familiar. I narrowed my eyes. “Michael Cavalleri,” I stated just above a whisper. He’d been the attorney Aaron used to send me the custody forms.
“I see you still haven’t forgiven me.” He appeared chagrined. “I was just doing what my client paid me to do.”
I rolled my eyes and looked up at Aaron who gave me a nonchalant expression. I wasn’t expecting an apology from him either. I knew my husband. He did what he believed he had to, to keep his family, and out of his own twisted version of love. A love I returned and felt deeply. I just couldn’t say it out loud.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Cavalleri. I’m not expecting any apologies any time soon.”
“Aaron, Neil’s already arrived.”
Aaron nodded, using his free hand to cover mine that rested on his right arm. After a few more moments of conversation with the attorney, Aaron and I stepped inside the art gallery.
“Neil McKenna, right?” I questioned.
“Yes,” Aaron answered.
“He’s the owner of the gallery?”
“No. But he is one of the main investors.”
“And his family owns McKenna rehab clinics?”
