17. Isla
ISLA
The first thing Isla saw as she woke up was an enormous bouquet on the nightstand beside her pillow. She startled, then sat up, frowning at the vase of daisies and English garden roses—her favorite.
“From Callum,” Aiden said from the corner of the room.
Isla drew in a sharp breath, her gaze shooting toward him. Aiden sat in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, a laptop poised on his lap.
“What are you doing here?”
“You asked me to stay, so I stayed,” Aiden said with the hint of a smile on his lips.
She squinted at him, thinking back at the night before...
Her heart sank.
The humiliating way he carried her out of the square.
Aiden helping her to her hotel room.
She wrinkled her nose.
Yet, it was different this time—she remembered it all clearly. She’d been in that fountain, and—for a moment—she’d fantasized about his arms around her. Holding her. Kissing her. Hopefully, she hadn’t made it obvious.
Oh God, I really embarrassed the hell out of myself.
“I really need to never drink again,” she said, mouth dry. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”
“You were working. We’ll chalk it up to overly eager locals hoping for a moment in the spotlight who kept handing you drinks.”
“Did you sit in that chair all night?” she asked, climbing out of the bed.
He closed the laptop and stood. “I thought it was for the best. We don’t want a repeat of Vegas, after all.”
She flicked a glance at him, something in his tone making her pause.
Vegas had brought nothing but trouble into her life.
Yet the idea that he feels the same way...makes me weirdly irritated.
“No, you’re right. Thank you for being the sober and responsible one this time. I’ll be sure to repay the favor next time,” she said with a tight smile, her posture stiff. The more this sounded businesslike and transactional, the better.
That’s all this is, anyway. All he’s here for. A business arrangement. He knew how to keep things professional, even with her. He’d shown that when she’d gone to him, asking to help Davy, and he’d responded coldly, making demands of his own about a costar.
Her brother’s flowers by the bedside were only a further reminder of the boundaries she needed to draw.
Aiden cleared his throat. “Speaking of Vegas, there is something I wanted to discuss with you. I was hoping to catch you before I leave to?—”
Isla’s phone rang. Davy. Lifting it to her ear, she said, “Hello?”
“Isla, where are you? Call time was at seven. The driver at the hotel says he’s about to leave.”
Isla checked the time.
Shite. I’m forty minutes late.
“Oh my God. I overslept. I’m so sorry. I’ll be in the lobby in five minutes.” She hung up and flew toward the bathroom.
“Everything all right?” Aiden’s voice carried from behind her.
“Yeah, I’m just insanely late. Call time was at seven. You should have woken me.” She grabbed her toothbrush and squeezed some paste onto it.
“Sorry, I didn’t know the call time.”
She didn’t answer, scrubbing the terrible taste in her mouth away as she ran the water. She spat, then managed, “Not your fault. But I need to get out of here. What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Aiden stepped toward the bathroom door, then hesitated. His fingers flexed at his side as he watched her through the reflection of the mirror, and she sensed...something different about him. Something she couldn’t quite put a name to. His expression wasn’t quite readable.
She threw her hair into a ponytail, dragging foamy cleanser across her cheeks.
“It can wait,” he said at last.
“Maybe tonight, after I get done filming?”
“I’m flying back to New York this morning for an important meeting Mason is heading up for me.” He let out a short, frustrated breath. “I’d delay, but I promised Mason my support. Turns out the role of CEO is rather important to a corporation.”
That’s right. He was leaving.
And the thought of him not being here—well, that shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t make her feel off balance like she was stepping onto a stage without knowing her lines. He’d just hung around the set scowling anyway.
Yet, I’m going to miss him.
Not in some big, dramatic way.
Just enough that it niggled at her with the unexpectedness of it. Of how much his presence here had mattered to her.
“Yes, it must be difficult being so responsible. So important,” she said with a teasing laugh, then washed her face.
After she’d finished, she dried herself. “Will you be coming to some of the other locations?” He couldn’t hear the hopefulness in her tone, could he?
“We’ll see,” he said with a frown.
She shot a smile at him, then closed the door in his face.
“Rude,” he called.
“I didn’t realize we were at the point in our relationship where I used the loo while you watched,” she called back.
“Well, you did vomit in my closet last time and leave me to clean it.”
“Don’t remind me.” She flushed the toilet and pulled herself back together.
Hurrying to the door, she opened it.
“You didn’t wash your hands,” he remarked with a wry grin.
“Ugh, I was going to, but I figured I’d open the door first since you missed looking at me so much.” She turned the water back on, smirking at him through the mirror.
“Much better,” he deadpanned. “Now I can see the loathing.”
She loved this.
These moments with him felt easy and carefree. Like they were an old married couple, in some ways, because they’d known each other for almost thirty years. Teasing came so effortlessly with Aiden Camden.
But there was something new in it, too. A page they’d turned, where she couldn’t help wondering—hoping, really—that maybe there was something more to his teasing.
She washed her hands, then flicked the excess water onto his face as she walked past. “Glad we’re finally being honest with each other.” She grabbed a folded wardrobe bag from her closet, slipped on some sliders, then picked up her phone. “I really have to go, though.”
He gave her a look of disbelief. “You’re going in your pajamas?”
She shrugged. “I’ll get dressed once I’m there.”
He nodded, a distant look crossing his eyes. Then he straightened. “Let me just get my things, and I’ll follow you out, then head back to my room.”
“You can just let yourself out if you want.” Isla bit her lip.
What does Aiden want?
Clearly, something is bothering him.
“You sure you don’t want to come down to the lobby? We can talk along the way.”
“I’m sure.” He slipped his laptop into the case. “You never know, maybe I’ll turn up at the next set, and we can talk then.”
Her heart stumbled—both with excitement and uncertainty.
What isn’t Aiden saying?
The phone rang in her hand, and Isla looked down. Davy. She squeaked. “Oh God, that driver is going to leave. I have to go.” She dashed past him toward the door, then paused, hand on the doorknob. “See you in Paris?”
He smiled, but it was tight. Hollow. Her least favorite Aiden smile. Because I love his normal smile . “In Paris.”