He pushed the door open, granting me a first-time view of his new room.
“Mr. Ace decorated the room for me.”
I took in the vast mural of the world map, painted on the far wall of the bedroom, the hanging wooden chair a few feet from the bed, which sat across from a window nook that was perfect for reading or playing on his tablet. A desk sat along the opposite wall, and on it were various model airplanes.
Displayed on walls devoid of the mural were planes of different shapes and sizes.
“Isn’t this so cool?” Aiden said, his voice sounding in awe. “Look. This is the type of plane Mr. Ace flies, right?” he asked.
I spun around to see Ace leaning against the doorframe. His stern glare remained on me, but when he lowered his gaze to peer down at Aiden, his eyes softened.
“That’s a model of the F-35. I used to fly those,” Ace told Aiden in a voice much softer than the one he used with me.
“Which one do you fly now?”
Ace pushed away from the door and strolled over to the desk. “The F-16,” he said, handing the model of the F-16 to Aiden.
“Woah, so cool,” Aiden whispered. “Could you take me to fly with you sometime?”
Ace let out a laugh, and it sounded sincere. He shook his head. “Sorry, kid. Even the flight crew doesn’t get to ride in the F-16.”
Aiden pouted. “How come?”
Ace tapped the front window of the model plane that Aiden still held. “The F-16 is a single-seater. There’s only room for the pilot.”
“Aw, man.” Aiden’s entire face dropped as if he genuinely believed that he would’ve gotten the chance to ride in an actual fighter jet.
“Maybe you’ll just have to grow up and learn to fly one for yourself,” Ace said.
Aiden perked up. “You think I can?”
Ace shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” He stopped and looked over at me, finally. “I did.”
Just like I knew you would.It was on the tip of my tongue to say, but I held back.
“Mama, can I fly fighter planes when I grow up?”
A smile touched my lips for the first time all day. “Not if you don’t learn to brush your teeth before bed and eat all the vegetables I feed you at dinner.”
Aiden’s wide-eyed expression dropped. “Aw, man. I hate broccoli.”
I stifled the laugh I wanted to let out. “Aiden, tell Mr. Ace thank you for your cool new room, and then go downstairs to bring up your bags.”
“Thanks, Mr. Ace,” Aiden said before racing out of the room.
I went to tell him to stop running, but it was no use. He was halfway down the hallway. I looked around the bedroom. It would be any little boy’s dream. And it was twice the size of the bedroom Aiden had back at our apartment in Philadelphia.
The air around me shifted, and I lifted my gaze, realizing that Ace continued to stand there, watching me. My mind went back to that kiss in the kitchen. Could it even be called a kiss?
It was more like a mauling. Or a warning of things to come. It was nothing like the kisses we shared all those years ago.
“Thank you,” I said.
Ace didn’t respond. His grey-eyed gaze slowly passed down the length of my body, pausing at the slight amount of cleavage left exposed by the V-neck T-shirt I wore. They roamed lower, again stopping at my hips and the apex of my thighs.
Then he peered back up at my face.
“I didn’t do it for you.” His tone was as hard as concrete.
