Her gaze flicks uncertainly toward me, and then she avoids my gaze as she gives a small shrug. “If you want.”
I ask myself what the hell I’m doing as I take her hands when she tries to sit and help her lower onto the mat. Facing Aurelia, I sit next to her while she crosses her legs and places her hands on her knees. The moment she closes her eyes though, she starts to sway and my hands reach for her automatically, settling on her stomach and back to keep her steady. Aurelia’s lack of balance and coordination reminds me of Thor and how he said his body didn’t feel like it belonged to him after the coma. The therapist suggested yoga on his own time, but the jackass would never do it.
“Thanks,” she says softly before pulling in a deep breath and slowly releasing it.
I’ve lost my excuse for following her in the first place, so I flounder for something to say since it’s clear she’s not going to tell me what she discussed with Oni. Fortunately, Aurelia beats me to it before my presence and hands on her body can become awkward.
It’s a big enough house that we’ve been able to avoid and ignore each other without issue. It would feel awkward as fuck moving into her home if we hadn’t already lived together in the cabin where we couldn’t avoid each other.
“Have you seen your parents yet?” she asks with her eyes still closed.
My fingers flex involuntarily, and I find myself pulling in a calming breath with her. “No. Not yet,” I answer once I exhale.
“Why not?” Her tone is soft and curious rather than accusatory.
I wait until she inhales deeply again and exhales. “Because I’m a coward.”
A laugh bursts free when Aurelia nods her agreement and then looks apologetic when she realizes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s true.”
“You should call them,” she suggests. “If you’re going to be my bodyguard, you’ll soon find out that privacy and hiding are impossible, even when you’re rich. You don’t want them learning you’re alive from social media.”
Fuck, she’s right.That would almost be as bad as letting them think I was dead in the first place. I did it to protect them, but they won’t give a fuck about that. My parents would rather dieforme than live with the pain of losing a child.
I feel a bit of anxiety rising, so when Aurelia inhales again, I mimic her until the nausea dissipates. “There’s another reason I haven’t gone to see them,” I admit before I can stop the words.
Aurelia’s brown eyes pop open, and she turns her head to meet my gaze. I don’t realize how close our faces are until her lips are right there. “What?”
“You,” I confess slowly. “You promised to be there when I go to see them, remember?”
She quickly looks away and chews her lip. “I didn’t think you’d still want me to keep that promise.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I retort quietly.
“Because you hate me…for being a bad girlfriend.”
“Neither of those things are true, Goldilocks.”
She looks like she wants to say something but bats the urge away and reaches her arm nearest me up as she leans over toward the opposite side. “Khalil, can you—” She gestures toward her arm and I quickly catch on, placing my hand on her bicep above her armpit and helping her lean into the stretch.
“Feels good?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The conversation grows stale again after that as we try to avoid all the things we’re too afraid to say. This time I break the silence after shifting to her other side to repeat the stretch. “So why are you here all by yourself?”
“Because the fewer people who know I’m pregnant, the safer I feel,” she softly confesses with a worried pinch of her brow. “My security team didn’t even know. No one except Tyler.”
“Where is he anyway?” I grouse. I’ve never felt so much dislike and envy for someone I’ve technically never met. When we found Westbrook in the Cold Peaks half buried alive, he was barely conscious and only mumbling Aurelia’s name.
Aurelia flicks her gaze toward me, and a small smile she won’t let free plays on her lips at my jealousy. “He was pushing himself too hard, so I made him take the week off. He should be back in a couple of days. He’s married, by the way.” She blurts that last part out, likely picking up on my jealousy.
“Happily?” I ask unmoved.
“Very. I met his wife. She’s lovely.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say as I help her move into a new position.
