Aidan regards me with amusement. “You really think that’s enough to stop me?”
My brows pop up. Is heflirting? A thrill rushes down my spine, and I give him a wry smile.
“If you’re that insistent, I won’t put up a fight.”
Heat flares in his gaze. He stares at me for a beat, then swipes his bag off the chair, heading into the bathroom to change.
I breathe out hard when he’s gone, turning to root around in my bag for my PJs and toiletries. I cringe as I pull out my pajamas, a matching set of pants and a long-sleeved top, baby-blue and printed with tiny flowers. They’re soft and well-worn after years of being washed, andnotsomething I’d ever wear in front of a man I’m attracted to. But I don’t have a choice, do I?
Aidan steps from the bathroom, avoiding my gaze as he sets his overnight bag back on the chair. I get a hint of mint as he passes, but that’s not what’s caught my attention. It’s how different he looks in his pajamas—red and black plaid flannel bottoms, with a black Henley on top. His hair is mussed from changing, and I can’t stop staring at the loose waves, itching to run my hands through them. He looks good in a suit, styled and polished, but this is something else. This is soft and sleepy Aidan.
And he’sperfect.
I wrench my gaze away, stepping into the bathroom to change. As I hesitate to remove my makeup, I realize I’m being ridiculous because he’s seen me looking far worse. He’s seen me in a bar, with mascara tracks down my cheeks, stuffing cupcakes into my mouth. He’s seen me in a towel after a day of crying, face puffy and makeup-free. He’s seen me at my absolute rock bottom, and he hasn’t looked away.
And that realization makes me pause.
I want so badly to do the same for him. For the first time since I climbed into his car this morning, I have a moment to breathe, and I think back to our conversation on the drive out here. Since then I’ve felt a shift, and I’m seeing him in a different light. He’s no longer only my boss, the guy trying to become partner at my father’s firm. Now, he’s the guy haunted by the shadow of his father’s legacy, the guy who learned that success comes at a price.
The guy who doesn’t believe he can haveboththe career he wants, and love too.
That’s what he was saying, right?I knew that if I wanted success like my father’s, it required sacrifice. He was talkingabout his father choosing work above his mom, about her leaving.
And when I think about the way he stepped in to take care of his younger sister… God, I had no idea. No wonder he gets protective with me, like when Dad is harsh at work, or with Savannah in that boutique. He can’t stand to see someone he cares about being beaten down by the world.
Because he does care about me, doesn’t he? That’s why he kissed me in that shop today. Why he didn’t get angry about me forgetting to book the motel. Why he pulled me close instead of turning away.
And fuck, the way his eyes burned when I said the wordDaddy… Heat spirals through me as I replay it. He wants this as badly as I do, and I know he wants more than sex. He said he was worried about me being young, that I work for him, and now I understand why he wants to make partner, but more than any of that, I think he’s scared. Scared to let someone in, in case it costs him everything. Maybe that should make me step back, but I can’t. It makes me want to prove him wrong. To show him that he can have both.
With me.
As I change into my PJs, I think about what Violet said the other night, that I need to fight for him. How Daisy said not to give up.
They’re right.
I want Aidan, and it’s about damn time I showed him.
24
AIDAN
The bedside lamp casts the room in a soft orange glow as I switch it on and climb into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I was hoping the dim light would make it harder for me to see Iris, but all it does is make the atmosphere more intimate. Romantic, almost.
And when she pads into the room in cozy blue pajamas, I can’t stop my gaze from following her. They’re PJs, and not even slightly revealing, but an ache stirs in my chest. Iris tries hard to keep it together, to show the world she’s fine, but I know her well enough now. I know the real Iris underneath, soft and unguarded, like this. The woman I met at Marco’s. The woman I wasn’t supposed to see at her apartment.
The woman I’m falling for.
And when she climbs into bed beside me, separated by a wall of pillows, it takes everything in me not to reach for her. God, the way it felt to kiss her in that boutique. And in the car I hadn’t meant to pull her into my arms, but she was so close to tears, I couldn’t stand it.
She says nothing as she snuggles under the covers. I switch off the lamp, cloaking the room in darkness. The wind howlsoutside, and I should go to sleep, but the bed is uncomfortably small, smaller still with the pillow wall.
With the woman I so desperately want only a foot away.
“Thank you for what you did in that shop today,” Iris whispers in the dark. My heart jumps as I think about the kiss again. The way she responded so eagerly, like she was as desperate for it as I was.
“You’re welcome, Cupcake,” I say thickly.
The mattress shifts as she wriggles onto her side to face me in the darkness. “I wish…” she trails off, and it’s not until she speaks again that I realize I’m holding my breath. “I wish it could have been real.”
