“Growing wide, not tall,” Katya teases.
I’m eating more than I have been, but my appetite is still shot.
Grief empties you and fills you up, all at the same time, so I struggle with finishing a meal.
The food is excellent, and I manage to eat onemomoand somerotiwith a chicken curry.
I should come here with…my mind stalls as the usual thoughts I have when I go somewhere nice pop up. I always want to share them with Aiden.
Used to want to share, Mia. Past tense.
Since our conversation about the divorce settlement and his attempts to negotiate dates, I haven’t seen him, but I haveheard from him.
He texts every morning and night since I unblocked him, at his insistence. He says good morning and tells me how he dreamed I was back at home. He says goodnight and tells me how hard it is for him to sleep without me.
He sends flowers.
He sends books that he thinks I should read, and then texts to ask if I did.
If we were in the Victorian Era, this would be how a gentleman courts a lady.
She was compelled to write to her cousin in Bath: ‘Mr. Winter has not ceased in his courtship. He sends not only posies but volumes, and worse—he inquires if I have read them!’
This isn’t fiction. It’s me. It’s him. It’s real. And the ache in my chest every time his name lights up my phone is proof of it.
A constant, pulsing reminder of what it means—not in theory, but in truth—to be loved by Aiden Winter. Or at least, what it could mean…if I let him in again.
Katya eyes me. “I heard from Aiden’s lawyer.” That gets my attention. “It’s official. You signed. He counter-signed.”
We’d had to go through the contract again because he made a change—he added that thing about the eight dates.
The Parties agree that Aiden Winter may request up to eight (8) in-person meetings (“Dates”) with Mia Winter, to be completed by December 25 of this calendar year. Each date will last at least six hours and will be held on either a Saturday or a Sunday. Aiden will plan the dates without Mia's input. Participation is mandatory but does not imply any obligation or agreement beyond the meeting itself.
Weirdandromantic.
My fingers tighten around my glass of water. “I still can’t believe he didn’t fight it.”
“Mia, the man is practically throwing shares at you,” Katya says. “Thirty million dollars in assets, maybe more.”
Cristiano lets out a low whistle. “That’s not nothing.”
“But he did ask for those dates in return.” Katya is amused. She told me Aiden’s lawyer is as well. “It’s cute.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Cute?”
“It isthat.” Cristiano drops his napkin next to his empty plate. “And it’s alsoveryromantic.”
“I don’t know what he’s trying to achieve.” I try to sound breezy, but I hear the nerves in my voice.
Cristiano studies me carefully. “You still love him.”
I don’t answer.
Of course, I love him. I’ve loved him for eight years.
You don’t just shut that off like flipping a switch—if I could, I would’ve.God, it would hurt so much less if I were able to perform that miracle.
Katya reaches out and puts her hand on mine. “I know what I said before about Aiden not deserving you. And I stand by that—for who hewas. Not the man he’s trying to be.”
