Carlie’s voice cracks when she speaks again. “I was so angry when I figured it out. At you. At her. At the timing.”
“Because you knew I’d fuck it up.”
She doesn’t seem to hear me. “…I said things I shouldn’t have. To both of you. I kept you apart because I thought I was protecting her from you.”
I turn back toward her slowly.
“But Aiden,” she continues, eyes shining now, “she never got over you.”
I stare at Carlie like she’s speaking another language. My brain rejects it on instinct, scrambling for something solid tohold onto. Logic. Timeline. Evidence. Anything that doesn’t involve rewriting six years of carefully justified distance.
“That’s not possible,” I say finally. “If she never got over me, she wouldn’t have gotten married. I made sure to be get-over-able by being an asshole the morning after. I made it easy for her.”
Carlie’s mouth twists. Not angry this time. Pained. “You really believe that?”
“She married someone else,” I snap. “People don’t do that if they’re still hung up on the past. And it was just one night! You don’t get attached in one night!” That lie does not get more believable the louder I say it.
Carlie steps back, crossing her arms like she’s holding herself together now. Her voice goes soft. “People do it all the time, Aiden. Especially when the past hurts more than the future they can imagine.”
I shake my head. Truth is, this is familiar territory for Carlie. It’s no wonder she’s so upset for Harper. But that’s not fair to either of us. We are not Carlie and Jack. Still, I see how this would upset her. “You’re projecting.”
“I’m remembering.”
At least she’s aware that she’s projecting. I take a breath, forcing my voice level. “I’m just helping Harper out. She needed a place to stay. That’s it. That’s all this is. I’m not dragging her into anything.”
“Oh, bullshit! Do you hear yourself? You think putting her in your fabulous apartment with you, doesn’t matter? Showing her the life she could have had with you…” She gestures wildly around the office. “And don’t insult me by pretending she doesn’t feel it too.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m doing anything,” I fire back.
“It means you’re already doing everything,” she shoots back. “You broke her heart six years ago, Aiden. You don’t get to hover around her life now and pretend it’s charity.”
The office is way too fucking small. The city beyond the glass blurs, suddenly distant and unreal. I sink into the chair behind me without remembering choosing to. My pulse is loud in my ears, every beat echoing the same impossible thought.
“Whatever you think I’m doing, I’m not. This isn’t some ploy to re-enter her life. I saw a need, so I filled it. You offered for her to stay with you too, remember?”
“I never slept with her and broke her heart.”
“You know what I mean!”
Carlie’s voice softens, but it doesn’t get any easier to hear. “She didn’t love David. She settled for him.”
I stare at the floor, my hands slack at my sides.
I sit there, staring at the floor. Every justification I’ve carried for six years frays at the edges. I tell myself Carlie is exaggerating. That memory distorts things. That time smooths over pain until it looks like something else. “I doubt Harper would want you to tell me things she confided in you about her marriage. Isn’t that some breach of best friend code?”
“We aren’t kids anymore, Aiden. And some things shouldn’t be kept secret. You walk through life like a wrecking ball, leaving women after a night here and a night there, without any thought of the consequences. Well, this is consequences.”
It’s all I can do to not grind my teeth when my jaw locks tight. “You know exactly why I don’t let them get attached. Don’t act like you don’t.”
“Dad’s bullshit is no excuse. You’re forty. You have to let that go.”
“Easy for you to say. You weren’t his punching bag.”
She leans against the door, and I’m not sure if it’s because that’s the nearest leaning spot or if she wants me to feel evenmore trapped in my own damn office. Her deep breath hisses out of her lungs. “I was angry,” she says suddenly, and the shift in her voice makes me look up. The fury is gone now, burned down to something raw and exposed. “I was so angry when I finally figured it out.”
“Because I hurt her.”
“Because you hurt yourself, too.” Her eyes shine, and she blinks hard, like she’s trying not to let it spill over. “And because I’m an idiot.”
