So, with watery eyes and an ache in my chest, I let himwalk away.
_____
“It has to be decorated for Christmas, that’s the whole point!” Steven says loudly over the grinder I just flipped on.
“You don’t think it’ll be tacky, snowy trees and gingerbread men and stuff when it’s 90 degrees out?” Maxine says.
“Max. We’re a Christmas town. Tacky is kind of our thing,” Shelly argues.
“False!” Steven points at her. “We are not tacky. We are cute. But if we don’t drag every single Christmas activity out that we can, like Harper said last week—tree lighting, bear hunt, mistletoe everywhere—go totally over the top, why would someone drive in from Manhattan?” I nod as I slide Carl his mocacchino. “Otherwise it’s not Christmas in July it’s just the plain old Fourth of July. They can see fireworks over the Hudson in the city. Or in the Hamptons. And either will be like, a much bigger, better show than we’ll have, probably.”
“Who’s got a better show?” Aiden says when he comes in.
The room stops.
There are moments where I remember why I hate living in a small town.
This is one of those times.
Of course someone saw us making out in the field.
Of course they told everyone they could about it.
I’ve already been cornered this morning. I said it was nothing, explained it will never happen again and explicitly commanded everyone in this room not to mention it.
So they’re now frozen, staring at Aiden like they’ve never seen him before. Tyrone is fighting a laugh. The aunts have looked away in old-fashioned-disapproval. Maxine in biting her lip, Shelly just started humming and I think Steven might combust.
“The fireworks,” I say, giving Steven a pointed glare.
“Right! Yeah, we’re talking about how it has to be Christmassy or else what’s the point of people coming into town? Ourfireworks show can’t compete with the ones in the city, those things are hella expensive.”
“Are they?” Aiden hums absently while, I’m pretty sure, he stares at me. I turned away to pour his coffee and get a couple boxes ready. The room has gone bizarrely silent again, staring at us.
“What do they want?” I ask Aiden for his crew’s order without turning around.
“Muffins, please. With yourcrack butter,as my foreman calls it.”
“K,” I say, with a quick wide-eyed glance over my shoulder to the crowd of people who are completely failing at playing it cold right now.
“Wh-what’s the best fireworks show you’ve ever seen, Aid?” Steven asks.
“Have you been to Disney? I hear it’s da best, man,” Tyrone pipes up.
“Nah, New Years in Vegas I bet,” Maxine guesses.
“New Years in Dubai,” Aiden answers plainly, like that isn’t the most amazing and exotic total-billionaire-answer he could have given.
“Dubai,” I whisper in awe without even realizing it.
Aiden has turned back to me and waits for the moment I have to hand him the boxes, as he often does. He’ll study my face and frown when I don’t look up and do the same song and dance as always. And everyone is waiting to watch it all happen.
It does. Silently. With tension so thick I could stick it in the bread slicer.
“You’re wearing a dress,” he says quietly.
I sigh, “And remembering why I don’t. The apron just doesn’t cut it, I already ripped the skirt and spilled jam down my front,” I say as my face turns strawberry-jam-shades of red rememberingjust how well he’s acquainted withmy frontafter last night. “Have a good day,” I say without looking up at his piercing stare.
He clears his throat and turns with his box. Everyone quickly turns away. Someone coughs. Pathetic. We are pathetic!
