“Matronly.”
I blow out an annoyed breath and turn for the door. “I’m staying with my best friend’s parents. Lingerie seemed like it would be a bit too much.”
“No way,” Aidan says in voice still thick with sleep. “There is never a bad time for lingerie.”
I can think of one million ways to refute his statement, but he would disagree with every one of them, so instead, I choose to keep my mouth shut.
Quietly we creep down the stairs. We both know we don't need to sneak, but it adds to the excitement of waking up for dessert in the middle of the night.
When we reach the first floor, I grab Aidan's hand and pull him to the kitchen. I flip on the lights, and both of us blink at the harshness.
“Here,” Aidan says, leaning over and flipping off the light I turned on. He walks a few feet away and flips a different switch. Soft light spills onto the countertops from underneath the top cabinets.
“Better,” he says. “Now, where’s that pie?”
Grinning, I execute an excited walk with some fancy footwork and make it to the pantry without tripping over myself. Aidan smiles.
“Your silly side is coming back. It's nice to see.”
I pause, my hand on the handle of the pantry door. “I didn't realize it went anywhere."
Aidan stays quiet but only because he doesn't need to say anything more. Of course my sense of humor left. It's slowly seeped out of me, dripping all over the wood floor of the apartment Henry and I shared.
Opening the pantry, I step in and retrieve the pie. I walk out, the pie extended and say, “Ta da!”
Aidan's eyes widened. “Is this what you were doing during the movie?”
I nod. “Maple pumpkin pie and cinnamon graham cracker crust with—” I set the pie on the counter and go to the fridge, returning with a glass bowl. “Maple whipped cream.”
Aidan places a hand over his heart and groans.
Grabbing two plates from the cabinet, I cut two oversized slices and drop a giant mound of whipped cream on the top of them.
Aidan hands me a plate, grabs his own, and leads the way into the living room. He presses a button near the fireplace and flames automatically roar to life.
We both settle onto the couch, our feet propped up on the long gray tufted ottoman.
“Oh my god,” Aidan says after taking his first bite. “Heaven.”
“Mmmm,” I moan in agreement.
“I'm telling my mom you should make the pie from now on.”
“Don't you dare.” The pie has always been Aidan's mom's thing. I don't want to step on her toes.
After that, neither of us talk. The only sound in the room is the crackling flames and our forks scraping our plates.
When he's finished, Aidan gets up.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
Aidan looks down at me. He is backlit by the fire and he looks so handsome. If it weren't for his aversion to relationships, he would've been snapped up a long time ago. I know how lucky I am to have him.
“To hide the pie,” Aidan grins mischievously. “Sharing is caring, but not when it comes to that pie. I'll be right back,” he says, bending down to scoop up my empty plate and fork. I lean back into the couch cushions and take a deep breath.
With a full belly and the fire crackling in this beautiful house, it’s the most content I’ve felt in a long time. I gaze out of the living room windows into the night. It must be a full moon, or somewhere close to that, because moonlight spills through the trees, illuminating the outside chairs and fire pit. Just beyond that is the guest house where Shawn sleeps. I look toward it and see movement through the French doors of the guest house.
Maybe Shawn wants a midnight snack too.
