Chapter 40
Astrid
I’m going to Congo tomorrow.
The words looped endlessly in my head, impossible to shut off.
Sure, I’d pushed him to accept after his manager’s relentless calls—I didn't want Aeron to give up his passion.
But I never imagined it meant filming Mount Nyiragongo, one of the deadliest volcanoes in the world.
And he'd said it so casually, as though he was planning a weekend hike, not the deadliest hike of his life.
Every post, every video of that angry orange fire bubbling and spilling from the volcano's mouth sent a sickening chill through me. I tossed my phone aside, heart racing. The more I saw, the harder it was to breathe.
That resolve lasted roughly three seconds before I grabbed my phone again, thumb hovering anxiously over Grumpzilla , stopping just short of tapping.
What if he thought I was clingy?
The faint sound of the front door unlocking snapped me out of my thoughts.
I'd locked it, hadn't I?
Only Kelly had a spare key until this morning. Aeron had demanded one for himself, shamelessly making it clear he'd prefer Kelly's key over a new one.
Heart racing, I hurried to the door, half worried it was Kelly, half hoping it was him. The door opened, and there stood Aeron, the fruit of my silent prayer.
I threw myself at him, knocking him slightly off balance. He stumbled back, startled, but quickly recovered to wrap his arms around me. “I have no idea what I did to earn this,” he said, equal parts amused, and confused, “but I could get used to this.”
I tilted my head back slightly, meeting his gaze. “I missed you.”
“I’ve been checking my phone all evening, hoping you’d say exactly that.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek, just below my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I almost called,” I said, giving him a playful little pout, “but I figured you’d be busy. Didn’t wanna bug you.”
His expression pulled a full one-eighty, from sunshine to storm clouds in a blink. He cupped my face, eyes serious enough to melt me into the floor. “Listen, sweetheart. You can call me anytime. You're never bothering me. If anything, it drives me nuts when you don't”
I searched his face, still hesitant. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart.” He traced an X over his chest.
If anyone was going to be the death of me, it'd be Aeron—death by an overdose of love. After he left this morning, I’d called Kelly and demanded she spill every detail of their conversation.
She refused to say anything useful, only cryptically repeating that Aeron was a keeper, and if I ever let him go, I'd need my head examined.
I hugged him tighter, possessively, pressing myself close enough to hear the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. Letting go never even crossed my mind. “I watched some videos,” I said. “That volcano looks seriously terrifying. Why would Nosy M send you into something like that?”
He chuckled, tipping my chin up until I met his gaze. “There's a whole team going with me, I promise if anything dangerous happens, I'll throw one of them into the volcano first.”
I laughed. “Offer Nosy M up first.”
Aeron nodded, considering. “Did you have dinner?”
“Ice cream,” I said. He shot me that look, the one that said, you can't possibly think that counts .
“It absolutely counts as dinner,” I argued. “Milk, calcium, fat, carbs, protein, it checks all the dinner boxes.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Nice try Sassytrid, but no.”
“Sassytrid?” I giggled. “I had no idea my name was so nicknameable .”
“It is,” he teased, already steering me toward the kitchen. “And I've got plenty more. Tell me, what do you want to eat?”
I told him mushrooms—anything mushroomy would do. I had no idea what Aeron was up to when he opened the refrigerator, pulling out mushrooms, veggies, and even chicken, but at this point, my taste buds trusted him completely.
As he chopped veggies, refusing to let me help, I leaned against the counter, folding my arms. “Since I won't be there to babysit you in Congo, you're going to follow every instruction I give you now, understood?” My voice left zero room for argument.
He firmly nodded.
“Number one: stick to your guide like glue.
He moves left, you move left. Two: no close up shots of the lava—you're there to take pictures, not become one.” I paused, waiting until I saw his obedient nod.
“Three: stay hydrated. Four: call me every single day, even if you have to climb a tree for a signal.” I turned him fully toward me, forcing him to set down the veggies.
“And this last one, listen carefully. Trust your instincts. If something feels even slightly off, get out immediately.”
“Roger that. I’ll stay out of trouble.” A playful smile tugged at his lips
Halfway through cooking, he asked for oregano , and without thinking, I told him it was in the third cabinet on his left, a slip I instantly regretted.
He opened the cabinet, his gaze landing on a fancy box that didn't belong with the spice jars.
Recognition flickered across his face, sending my heart into a messy little panic.
I lunged forward, but Aeron was faster, grabbing it first.
“Give it back,” I demanded, jumping uselessly as Aeron effortlessly lifted it higher, obnoxiously taking advantage of the extra inches his six-foot-two had over my five-foot-seven.
“Not until I see what’s in here.”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
“Doesn’t it?” he drawled. “Looks exactly like the box you brought along the day you fought with me.”
“Oh, so you do remember? For the record, you fought with me, not me with you.” I'd almost thrown those cookies into the trash that day, but the devil on my shoulder reminded me that I'd spent two hours making them, and even my anger had limits.
“And you made sure we stayed in that fight for three days and seven hours.”
“You counted?” My voice shook a little.
“Every damn second.” He lifted me onto my feet, bringing the cookie box easily within my grasp if I bothered to reach, but his gaze pinned me in place, my pulse hammering in response.
“You asked if I remembered this box? I haven't forgotten a single detail about you from that day—no glasses, hair down, orange dress—”
“It’s coral,” I corrected. Even during a heart-racing, soul-baring moment, my stubborn side couldn't resist poking at him. But really, the fact that he remembered any detail at all—even the wrong shade of my dress—was turning my heart mushy.
“So the takeaway here is that I got the dress color wrong?” He chuckled.
“The takeaway is, you pushed me away.” He needed to understand—his words had cut me just as deeply as whatever pain he'd been feeling.
He took a deep, steadying breath, forehead pressed firmly to mine, voice rough with suppressed emotion. “I didn’t push you away to hurt you, Astrid. I did it because seeing even a hint of pity in your eyes would’ve ripped me apart.”
“Oh my God, you thought that was sympathy? It’s called caring, you absolute idiot.” I gave his chest a gentle shove, exasperated. “Honestly, your EQ is negative.”
“I’ll gladly own my awful EQ if you show me what's in here.” He didn't bother with permission, already lifting the lid, eyes lighting up with smug satisfaction at the sight of dark chocolate cookies. He knew exactly who I'd baked them for.
He bit into it slowly, gaze never leaving mine.
“How are they?” I asked, that familiar, nervous flutter returning, the same I’d felt back then, waiting a little too eagerly for his response.
He swallowed, and took an unnecessarily thoughtful pause. “I need a dentist appointment soon.”
I shot him a death-by-chocolate glare.
“That's the last of my cookies you're ever getting.” Would it kill him to pretend they tasted good, just for me? I made a grab for the box, but he easily held it out of my reach again.
“You made these for me.” He took another cookie, biting into it slowly. “Which makes them mine.”
“Do whatever you want.” I turned to leave, but he stubbornly tugged me back by my shirt.
“Not enough cocoa, sweetheart. And a touch more salt—”
“Aeron!”
“And vanilla,” he added. “It definitely needs more vanilla.”
That was my cue. I spun around and stomped my foot sharply onto his.
He groaned in pain.
“Any other complaints about my cookies?”
“You’re the devil wearing an angel’s smile,” he ground out, teeth clenched tight.
The tiny devil on my shoulder nodded approvingly.