Sure, I know I’m going to replay this conversation in my mind a thousand times and second-guess every word and every pause, wondering if I sounded too eager or too cold, too forward or not enough. What I do know, though, is I can actually breathe without feeling like I’m suffocating on my own thoughts.
“Aye. You’re right,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “But Lucy? That night with you… It wasn’t nothing. And I’m so fucking sorry I made you feel like it was.”
Relief floods through me, easing the raw edges of my nerves. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding on to until his words allowed me to exhale. He’s not exactly the type to bare his feelings easily, so hearing him say that is a surprise in the best possible way. My heart’s pounding so loudly in my chest, I swear it’s echoing down the hallway.
“Wow,” I say, blinking up at the ceiling like it might help hold back the sudden rush of tears. “Sounds like you might actually…miss me or something.”
There’s a pause, and then he groans. “Jesus, you’re gonna make me say it?”
A grin tugs at my lips. “Say what?”
“I miss you,” he mutters. “I’ve been missing you every damn day since I left.”
I bite down on my smile. “I’m glad you called. I needed to hear that.”
He pauses for a beat before he responds. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lucy.”
I feel so much lighter now. Then, a thought strikes me.
“You know, I’m always happy to take Isla for a little adventure while you’re gone,” I suggest. “Maybe go for a walk in the park or hit up the zoo. Give your mum a bit of a break.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end. “She’d love that,” he says. “And Mum, too. She’s been doing a lot. More than I probably realize.”
“Just say the word,” I tell him. “No pressure. I’ll make it something good.”
“I’ll message my mum tomorrow,” he says. “I should go. We’ve got a situation with one of the pumps that needs sorting.”
“Of course,” I say quickly. “Go. Be safe.”
“I will. And Lucy?”
“Hm?”
“I’ll call again. Soon. I promise.”
This time, I know he’ll be calling.
twenty-eight
LUCY
Aidan’s finally home today after what has been the longest three weeks of my life. I haven’t texted or called to ask to see him, even though I want to.God, I want to. He needs some time with Isla first, though. I know how much it kills him to miss even the smallest things, like her new favorite song and the funny way she says mermaid. That little voice of hers is everything to him.
So instead, I bake.
Two pies. One unnecessarily complicated. One safe and familiar. There’s flour on my elbows, sugar under my nails, and I’m just trying not to watch the clock.
It’s fine. This is fine. He’s home, and that’s what matters.
And yet, every time my phone buzzes, my breath catches for a second.
I’m so lost in my own head that I almost don’t hear the light knock at my door. When it comes again, a little more insistent this time, I frown.
I wipe my hands on the dish towel, wiping my foreheadwith the back of my wrist as I make my way to the door. When I pull it open, my heart nearly stops.
Aidan stands there, looking exhausted but somehow more handsome than ever. His hair is slightly damp as if he’s just showered, and there’s a hint of stubble along his jaw. What actually catches me off guard is the bouquet of white peonies in his hands—massive, full blooms that look impossibly soft against his calloused fingers.
“Surprise,” he says, voice gravel-deep and making my knees wobble.
