One-word answers seem safe enough.
“How bad are things right now?” The corner of his mouth hitches up in a small grin. “You can tell me to kick rocks if you’d like, because I know I’m asking a personal question I haven’t earned yet. But I want to know what we’re dealing with here, since cookies got cut from the budget.”
There are an incredible number of things I could unpack in that tiny monologue. But the cookies seem like the easiest starting place.
“I probably could’ve squeezed it into the budget. But it seemed like a waste since we’re packing everything up tomorrow to stay with Abby until everything is settled.”
He nods. “That’s fair.”
“But if I caved, she definitely wouldn’t have gotten the spread she got today.” I gesture at the flour-dusted island and try to laugh off the pressure in my chest.
“Maybe I went overboard,” he says sheepishly. “This was always my favorite thing to do as a kid, and I couldn’t let her miss out.”
And there’s another blow to my chest.
The walls around my heart don’t stand a chance if this semi-sullen man doesn’t stop dropping truth bombs and fixing what’s broken all the time.
It’s getting harder to forget I don’t want him. That I can’t suddenly—and with alarming clarity—see someone to share this burden with. All the numbers I’ve been juggling in my head, and trying to figure out how to stretch.
I won’t let myself imagine the other aspects we could share. The practical parts seem safest.
“I don’t want you to judge me,” I say warily.
His brow furrows. “Chloe, you can tell me.”
Somehow, I know he won’t judge me at all, but I’m angrier at myself than anyone else could be. It’s hard to let that go.
“Fall and Christmas are my busy seasons. Families want new photos for Christmas cards and gifts. Plus, I’ve always offered holiday sessions of all kinds, and they’re traditions. Or they were getting there.” I blow out a breath.
When he nods, I keep going.
“I packed my schedule as full as I could handle, and with the studio out of commission, I’ve got nowhere to fulfill these sessions.”
He leans against the counter, crossing his arms, the full weight of his attention on me.
“I’ve called everywhere. Everything’s booked with events; there’s nowhere to squeeze in. I never imagined I’d need a backup studio.” The words spill out, and tension loosens. “If I refund them—and it looks like I have to—I’ll have hardly anything left. A couple hundred, at best.”
His jaw works. “How is that possible?”
“I gambled.” Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. “I had no business stepping into a studio yet, but the prettiest building came open, and it felt perfect. If this leak didn’t happen, it would’ve been worth the leap.” I shrug. “If I delivered everything I have on my schedule, it would’ve covered the studio, my bills, Christmas, and it would’ve given me a small cushion for lean months.”
I leave out the parts that feel illogical. Like my wedding planner friend Ella telling me about the space, and how perfect it was for me. And how, even though I didn’t act on it immediately, the listing suddenly kept popping up on different sites. How other studio spaces would suddenly become unavailable, and this one wasalwaysin the right price range.
Because now that I’m in my kitchen with Aiden, it’s all taking on a new meaning, and I can’t sit with any of it right now.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Chloe—that’s unreal. You should be proud of yourself. That’s a lot of income in a short window.”
“I overbooked and stretched myself too thin. But I saw the light at the end of the tunnel and decided it was worth the hustle to get there.”
And now that I’m out of solutions, I’ll be lucky if this doesn’t brand me as unreliable in the future. It doesn’t matter that it’s all out of my hands.
“Logic isn’t a factor in this scenario. People want what they paid for, and they forget I’m a human being. And you can’t imagine the workload that comesafterthe session. So, maybe I’m a workaholic around the holidays. It’s how I take care of Phoebe.” I try for light, but it lands heavy. “You, of all people, know what it’s like to work too much.”
His smile fades to a flat line, a muscle twitching in his jaw. After a minute, he bobs his head in agreement.
“You’re right, I do. And I knowexactlywhat it’s like to lose things that matter because of it.”
If I thought his stare was heavy before, it doesn’t compare to what I see now. And I wish I couldn’t relate to the turmoil brewing in his eyes.
