“I’m sorry,” I hiccup through my tears, embarrassed by how completely I’ve fallen apart. “I just—I thought you’d?—”
“That I’d what?” Aidan asks, his voice impossibly gentle. “Leave?”
I nod against him, unable to form words. The thump of his heart grounds me as his fingers thread through my hair.
“I’m not him, love,” he says simply. “And it sounds like he was a fucking idiot.”
His bluntness startles a laugh out of me. “You’re not disappointed?”
“Disappointed?” He looks genuinely confused. “Lucy, if anything, I’m disappointed in myself for ever making you feel like you couldn’t tell me sooner.”
Who says that? Who thinks like that? How can he sit here looking at me like I’ve handed him something precious, not something broken?
“It was never you, Aidan. I just…needed to work through it on my end, I guess.”
I feel like I can finally breathe. The weight that’s been pressing down on me lifts so suddenly I’m dizzy with relief.
I want to look into those steady eyes of his and spill the entire truth I’m holding in, but I don’t. Not because I’m afraid he won’t say it back, but because whatever this is between us already feels real enough to hold me together. This is the kind of love that doesn’t need declarations to exist.
He doesn’t need the words yet. He’s been showing me their shape all along.
So I stay tucked against him, my tears soaking into his shirt, letting my heartbeat speak its own language. When his hand slides up to cradle the back of my neck and his lips brush the top of my head, I know he hears me. He already knows.
I’m in love with him.
thirty-one
LUCY
Aidan and Isla are coming with me for dinner with my family tonight. As excited as I am, there’s still this flutter of nerves that won’t quit. This is another little shift in the landscape between us. We’re taking this thing and making it more solid. I can’t wait for them to meet everyone.
I check the time on my phone for the fourth time in as many minutes. It’s only five-fifteen—we’re nowhere near late yet.
“You sure this sweater looks all right?” Aidan asks, stepping out of the bathroom. His hair is still damp from the shower, and he’s wearing a dark blue sweater that brings out the gray in his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair, his expression betraying just a hint of uncertainty.
He seems nervous…and it’s ridiculously adorable. He’s usually all firm hands and broody stares, but here he stands looking to me for approval like he actually needs to hear me say it.
“You lookdashing,” I tease. “They’re going to love you. Both of you.”
“It’s Knox I’m worried about,” he mutters, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater. “The way you talk about him, sounds like he’d try to snap me in half if I looked at you wrong.”
I laugh, crossing the room to loop my arms around his waist. “He’s protective, not homicidal. And he’s actually a big teddy bear, but never tell him I said that. Besides, once he sees how you are with Isla, he’ll be fine.”
Aidan frowns, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck. “It’s not just that.” His voice drops lower. “I’m ten years older than you, Lucy. Your brothers will take one look at me and think I’m too old for their little sister. And what about your dad? Christ.”
I pull back slightly, studying his face. There’s genuine worry in his eyes, something I haven’t seen since those early days when he was so afraid of letting me get too close.
“That’s what’s been bothering you? Our age difference?”
He runs a hand through his damp hair, making it stand up slightly. “When they see us together, that’s the first thing they’ll notice. Their beautiful, full of life daughter and sister with some older guy.”
“First of all,” I say, reaching up to smooth his hair back down, “you’re not ‘some older guy.’ You’re the man who makes me happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
His expression softens a little, but I can tell he’s not convinced.
“And second,” I continue, “my family isn’t going to care about a number.”
“Do you think they’ll ask about it?”
