“I meant that. You could’ve ignored every aspect of the business and sat around watching movies with Phoebe, and you’d still be just as valuable to me. In fact, I’d like to see more of that. We’re discussing some boundaries when we get home.”
“You just want a housewife,” I say, through a teary laugh.
He scoots closer. “Stop sidestepping your feelings and listen to me. I want you as my wife, yes. But I want you to slow down. I want you to be present and stop feeling guilty about making memories.”
“I don’t?—”
He raises an eyebrow, and I close my mouth.
“Remember when you called me out on avoiding Christmas? Same thing.You are not less for stopping and experiencing the life you’re building. We can have a sign made up for your office if you need it.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” I sniffle. “That’s just hard for me.”
“And we’ll work through it together. I promise.”
Soft music floats in the air as we sit for a couple of long moments. I put on an old country mix on my stereo so the music might help cover our voices. Not that I thought we’d get loud, but if there’s anything I want to shield Phoebe from, it’s my feelings of inadequacy.
I appreciate that Aiden wants to give me space to fully verbalize how I feel right now. And I know it’s hard for him to keep his thoughts to himself as I do.
But he’s still giving me tells he’s chewing on it—the way his thumb pauses against my hand, or the way his breath changes like he’s lining something up in his chest.
“I think,” I say slowly, testing the thought as it forms, “some part of me learned that love only sticks if I’m useful enough. Helpful enough. Easy enough to keep.”
His jaw tightens.
“And when I wasn’t?” I swallow. “I assumed that meant I hadn’t earned it.”
That does it.
He exhales through his nose, a sound halfway between frustration and resolve, and finally looks at me like he’s made up his mind.
“There’s something I need to tell you. It’s not bad,” he says, like he thinks I’m already internally bracing. “But it’s important.”
My brain flags on the way Evelyn casually mentioned that Aiden came back here, and my pulse climbs. I really hope that’s where this conversation is coming, because I didn’t want to have to beg.
“Okay.”
He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “I came to Texas years ago. After everything went down at the farm. After you asked me for certainty, and didn’t know how to offer you that.”
“You did?” My breath catches.
It doesn’t matter that Evelyn told me this part—it matters that he’s telling me now. And it’s obvious by the regret on his face that there’s more to it than I ever imagined.
“Just one time,” he says, quietly, his thumb rubbing the pad of his opposite hand. “I didn’t tell you back then, because I didn’t want it to mean anything.”
It would’ve meanteverything.
“Why?” I ask.
“I needed to know if everything I felt when you walked away was real. Whether it was really heartbreak from losing you,” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “or if I was struggling to find a new normal because I lost someone I didn’t expect to lose.”
I don’t know why, but this sliver of insight back into that time period feels like finding a piece of gold. It hurt him, too.
I swallow. “And?”
His mouth curves as he lets out a small rueful laugh. “Oh, it was real.”
His words hit me right in the center of my chest.
