I wanted to say yes.
Now all I’m left with is unresolved feelings and a quiet house.
sixteen
AIDEN
I usually preferthe fire pit to wallow.
And technically, I’m notwallowing.
I’m just disappointed that I let my feelings get in front of logic tonight. It smooths the sting when I’ve got stars overhead, evergreens standing guard, and the mountains watching from a distance. But tonight, the snow’s too thick for anything but work, so the fire burning in the giant stone fireplace will have to do.
It reaches toward the exposed beams, flames licking at a mantel that used to be crowded with Christmas. Mom had enough spirit for the whole county, and almost as many nutcrackers. Dad always pulled on the Santa suit for December field trips, also greeting kids with a booming laugh when we opened to the public every weekend in December.
There’s an ache if I let myself think about the fact that they never got old enough to truly embrace those roles.
Now the house is big and quiet, like it’s mourning the loss along with us.
I take another pull from my winter brew and stare into the fire.
“You propose yet?”
Owen crosses the room, the floorboards creaking under his weight, and drops into Dad’s old recliner as though he owns it. The firelight catches the ginger in his hair, Mom’s hair, and the familiar pang hits me square in the chest.
Another reminder that we’re here without them, and dang if it doesn’t hurt.
“I don’t recall inviting you.”
“That’s never stopped me.” He lifts his bottle. “So. Did she say no?”
“She didn’t say no.” My eyes stay on the flames. “She didn’t say yes either.”
Owen’s mouth quirks. “How’d you ask?”
I cut him a look.
“Ah.” He grins. “You blurted it out.”
“It wasn’t my best moment.”
Maybe if I hadn’t let my feelings bulldoze logic, I could’ve done a better job.
“You mean you didn’t romance her at all?” He laughs, then sobers when I don’t. “Aiden.”
I exhale slowly. “I asked her to marry me, and I didn’t even have answers for the obvious stuff.”
He leans forward. “What obvious stuff?”
“What happens to her apartment after inspections. What we tell Phoebe. Where Chloe will handle her sessions since her studio isn’t an option. I don’t know what this looks like once it’s not just an idea, and our lives tangle up in this house.” Shame burns behind my ribs. “I tossed out a couple of frantic solutions and told her we’d figure it out.”
Owen stares at me. “You asked her to marry you, and your plan was ‘we’ll figure it out’?”
“I know.”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “Okay. Fine. Then we make a plan.”
I sag back into the couch. “Maybe there’s another way. Maybe I don’t need to get married.”
