When I wake up again, the room is dim. The shades are open, but it’s dark and stormy outside. It’s the kind of late fall afternoon perfect for cozying up and watching a movie with a fire burning in the fireplace. Unfortunately for me, though, my stomach is once again roiling, and I rush into the attached bathroom before heaving up the contents of my digestive system until I’m so exhausted, I can’t even get up.
There’s a knock on the door after I flush the toilet, and I groan. “Go away.”
“I’m coming in,” Aidan says, and I whimper because I can’t muster the energy for any more words. I hear the water running at the sink, but I can’t even open my eyes from where my head rests on my arms, folded along the toilet seat. Then he squats down behind me, pulling me back against his chest and holding me in place with his knees as he gently wipes my face off with a warm washcloth. “I hate seeing you so sick like this. I wish I could make it better.”
I hate him seeing me sick like this, too. I want to be the sexy, strong woman I usually feel like when I’m with him, not the wretched hag I feel like right now. But he doesn’t seem to mind that the bathroom smells like a sewer and I’m sweaty and disgusting after what my body just went through, again. He just carries me to bed, pulling the covers over me again.
“I’m going to leave the bathroom light on and crack the door open in case it’s dark next time you wake up,” he tells me as he stands. I succumb to sleep before he’s left the room.
“After all of that, I probably need to send him some sort of a thank you gift,” I say with an embarrassed chuckle, two nights later while I’m out to dinner with Eva, Lauren, and Paige.
I spent nearly 48 hours in some sort of hallucinogenic nightmare of sickness, where I’m pretty sure Aidan not only saw me throw up multiple times, but may have seen much worse. I don’t quite remember the details—my memories are fragments.
I’m finally feeling better, so when Eva asked if I felt like grabbing dinner, I jumped at the chance because two days of not eating has left me weak and ravenous.
“But,” I continue, “what do you get the person who’s now seen you create a biohazard on an airplane and in his home?”
“A house cleaner?” Eva suggests.
“Or a lifetime supply of air freshener,” Paige says with a laugh. I haven’t seen my cousin in over two months because she’s a business consultant who works extremely long hours and is always traveling for work. So when Lauren said Paige was back in Boston for the weekend and invited me out, I combined dinner plans with them and Eva.
Lauren’s bright blue eyes are practically twinkling with amusement when she says, “Can we just rewind time for a sec and go back to the part of the story youdidn’ttell us? Like, the part about why, exactly, Aidan Renaud waited for you on that plane, and why he brought you to his house instead of your own?”
I knew when I started this story that I’d end up divulging the whole truth, but the flush of embarrassment still creeps up my neck and across my cheeks. No one understands that reaction better than Lauren and Paige, because our shared genetics gave them the same redheaded, fair skin that I have.
“Yeah, so... remember when I told you about Bermuda?”
All three of them gasp so loud that other diners turn to see what’s going on at our table.
“Wait a sec,” I say, dropping my voice even lower. “How doyouknow about Bermuda, Paige?”
She grimaces as she glances over at Lauren with a guilty look.
“You said we couldn’t tell our husbands,” Lauren says, “you didn’t say I couldn’t tell my sister. And I only told her because I knew you’d have shared the story with her yourself, if she was ever around.”
She gives Paige a pointed look, and Paige just rolls her eyes saying, “Sorry I have a demanding job.”
“So, this means that Aidan is...?” Eva asks, eyebrows arching high as she waits for me to finish that sentence.
“My stepbrother? Yeah, sort of.”
“How can he ‘sort of’ be your stepbrother?” Lauren asks.
“Max, my mom’s newest husband, who actually is a surprisingly great guy, is Aidan’s stepdad. Max married his mom when he was younger, but they’re not biologically related.”
Paige chews her lower lip before she says, “That’s not so bad, then.”
“Yeah, except he’s also on the team I now work for, plus my dad is his agent and basically told him to stay away from me. And it’s a contract year for him, so hereallycan’t afford to piss off my dad.”
Lauren gives me a sympathetic nod. In addition to him being her uncle, she’s worked for Carson Kaplan, so she truly knows how he can be.
“Shit,” Eva hisses out the word slowly. “That’s a lot stacked against a relationship.”
“No,” I say with a shrug. “It’s not a relationship.”
“If cleaning puke off someone, and possibly seeing much worse,” Paige says, “isn’t a relationship, then what is it?”
“We have . . . an agreement.”
