36. Aiden
AIDEN
The only thing worse than lying to Callum, Aiden had discovered, was knowing that Callum knew about it.
That and watching Isla snuggle with Tomas for the goddamn travel show.
His throat burned as he sipped his glass of scotch, tearing his eyes away as Tomas’s lips nuzzled Isla’s neck.
“Might want to relax your grip on that glass,” Kyle said from beside him. “Squeeze it any harder, and it might shatter in your hand.”
Aiden slammed down the rest of his drink and sat back in his chair at the long, elegantly decorated dining table. Thank God for younger brothers right now—both Kyle and Logan were the only ones who were keeping him sane during this blessed event.
Quinn and Mason, on the other hand, had barely uttered two words to him.
Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. “I was saving this for later, but it looks like you could use this more than me.” He handed it over to Aiden. “Nothing fancy. Jack Daniel’s. I am from Tennessee.”
Aiden chuckled and uncapped the flask, then took a swig.
“You’d be surprised, but I’m not the liquor snob.
That’s more of an elder Camden trait.” He flicked a glance at Quinn, who stood by the bar, surrounded by friends from uni, including Callum.
Quinn and Callum had more friends in common—as they were the same age.
Maybe I’ve only ever been the stand-in. The convenient one. The one who was around when Quinn wasn’t.
The pathetic, jealous thought snuck in before he could stop it—and he swallowed it down with another swig of whiskey.
But wasn’t there truth in it? Hadn’t it always been true?
When push came to shove, Quinn had picked Callum over his own brother. And if Callum had to choose a friend between the two of them, Aiden was certain it wouldn’t be him.
Especially not now.
Now that I can’t look Callum in the eye.
Now that I know he knew I was lying to his face.
“They are such a handsome couple,” Mum was saying across the table, a few seats down as she spoke to his father. “And he’s fairly famous, isn’t he? Marlene was telling me she’s seen him in a magazine.”
Aiden followed the direction of his mother’s gaze. She was speaking about Isla and Tomas. Tomas took a moment to give her a twirl, then led Isla onto the nearby dance floor, where the music was still soft and slow. Exactly the kind of shot Boyd had wanted. Intimate. Romantic. Made-for-TV magic.
Oh perfect. A spin. Maybe they’d do the tango next. Or a dramatic lift, Dirty Dancing -style.
Tomas’s arms wrapped tightly around Isla, his hands grazing dangerously close to her arse. And of course she looked incredible—her gray dress hugged every curve like it had been stitched on by sin.
Tomas’s hands smoothed lower on Isla’s backside.
Aiden bit down on the inside of his cheek.
He focused his gaze on the cameraman, who stood discreetly to the side. For all the rest of the guests knew, he was just there to film the reception.
It’s just an act.
She’s an actress.
“How long is this production going to be hanging around for?” he hissed at Kyle.
“I think like an hour or two.”
“How much fucking footage do they need?” he growled.
“You know, I think Logan mentioned something about cigars on the balcony. Why don’t we see if he’s still out there?” Kyle asked, pushing his chair back.
Probably not a bad idea.
Whatever superpower was required to watch the woman he loved be groped by another man—acting or not—Aiden didn’t seem to possess it.
Every touch, every smile, every comment about how fucking perfect they were together sank like gravel through his stomach.
“I’m just going to get a refill,” Aiden said, grabbing his glass from the table. “I’ll meet you out there.”
Kyle gave him a hesitant look. “If it helps, she’s talked about you nonstop.
Even when she thinks she’s being subtle.
Between shots while filming, or on the plane ride over here, all she did was find a way to sneak you into the conversation.
It makes me wish I had someone, too. You don’t realize how lonely you are until you see everyone else around you happy. ”
Aiden gave a grim nod. “Don’t get too romantic, Winnick. I don’t need any more rumors starting at this party.”
Kyle chortled, then left him at the table.
Making a beeline for the bar, Aiden held his breath as he passed Callum and Quinn. Neither of them looked his way, though he didn’t doubt they both noticed him.
A suffocated feeling closed in around him as he stood in line at the bar.
Isla was busy, obviously, and she’d meant well in telling him about Callum, but this was sheer misery.
Every second since then had felt fraught with the potential for error.
A powder keg that could erode the relationships he valued the most even further.
“Aiden,” a man said beside him. One of Callum and Quinn’s friends who had pulled away from the group to stand in the line for the bar.
“Ah, hello. ..”
Michael? Ben?
Something biblical.
“Philip,” he said with a grin. “You’re looking duly miserable. What are you drinking tonight?”
“Bell’s,” Aiden said, groaning inwardly. The last thing he wanted was to get caught in a conversation with one of Callum and Quinn’s friends—especially when they were just a few feet away.
“Of course you are. Moved away from pints and onto the whiskey, have you? God, I think I remember the first time you drank with us all in uni. You were up from”—Philip snapped his fingers at some vague recollection that Aiden had no memory of—“I can’t remember now.
Anyway. You were green around the gills the entire night. ”
Aiden gave a bare nod, still trying to decide whether it was better to feign interest or to be flat-out disinterested. One would make him look even more like a prick—the other would only keep him here longer.
Philip, either too drunk to notice Aiden’s dilemma or feeling particularly chatty, kept right at it. “Of course, lots changed since then. You’re the big shot in the family now, I hear.” He clapped Aiden on the back.
Please, God. Let the line fucking move.
Only one person remained in front of him, though Philip had sidled up beside him, rather than stand behind. Aiden focused his gaze on the bartender as he strained a drink into a glass.
“Wouldn’t be Camden Enterprises if a Camden wasn’t in charge,” Aiden replied dryly, his gaze darting away.
That was a mistake. His eyes landed on Tomas and Isla, who continued wrapped in each other’s arms on the dance floor.
Still? How many bloody shots does Boyd need?
A pulse beat at his temple, slow and brutal. Laughter rippled from a nearby table. The clink of cutlery. Someone toasted Liddy and Callum. Meanwhile, he stood there, pretending not to notice Tomas’s hands on the woman he loved.
Philip followed his gaze. “Oh yeah. That’s changed too, right?
” He lowered his voice. “Little Isla’s all filled out now.
” The sod had the audacity to lick his lips.
“Girl’s got a reputation, too. I’d pay good money to see what she’s like on her knees.
Bet she’s wild with that mouth. Wouldn’t mind getting a turn. ”
“What?” Aiden asked sharply, his voice booming louder than he’d intended. Rage curled through him, and he turned, towering over the sniveling moron as he grabbed him by the collar. But he couldn’t control the fury. “What the fuck ?”
Philip’s eyes widened. “I-I . . . meant no harm. Isla?—”
“Get her name out of your fucking mouth,” Aiden growled, leaning closer. His grip tightened. “Don’t you ever think of talking about her that way again, you pathetic little fuck.”
Quinn was at Aiden’s side. He gripped Aiden by the elbow. “Whoa, there, what the hell is going on?”
Philip’s face was a deep shade of crimson. “S-sorry,” he sputtered.
“This sod just insulted Isla,” Aiden snapped, not bothering to look at Quinn.
Quinn put his hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “Maybe we just let it go right now, Aiden.”
Callum had joined them, a circle of onlookers gathering around them. “What the fuck, Aiden?” His eyes narrowed as he stepped between Philip and Aiden, shoving Philip out of Aiden’s grasp. “This isn’t the place for this.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what a sorry excuse for a friend this arsehole is,” Aiden said, meeting Callum’s eyes for the first time in the past couple of hours.
Callum’s expression flickered, then cooled. He lifted his chin in a challenge. “And you would know what it means to be a friend, would you, Aiden?”
Aiden fingers curled, his restraint already spiraled so far that he wasn’t certain he could rein it in anymore.
“I didn’t say I was perfect?—”
Callum barked a laugh. “Not perfect? You’ve been sleeping with Isla for what? Weeks now? And lying to my face.”
As though the accusation wasn’t bad enough, everyone—absolutely fucking everyone—appeared to have heard it. Conversations had gone silent. The entire room appeared to be staring at them.
Heat rose on Aiden’s face as he stared at Callum, his chest tight with pressure. “It’s not like that,” he whispered hoarsely.
Footsteps hurried toward them as both Liddy and Isla reached them. Isla came up beside Aiden and slipped her hand onto his elbow. “Aiden?—”
“How dare you?” Callum went on, his eyes narrowed and piercing through Aiden. “How dare you make a scene like this during our party? You know how much Liddy put into this. And I was willing to let it all go, watch you sit there and pretend to be my fucking friend, and now you pull this?”
“I am your friend,” Aiden said, his voice a rough scratch. He straightened, pulling his shoulder free from Quinn’s grasp. “I was just defending the reputation of the woman I love from that sod.” He gestured toward Philip.
Liddy bit her lip and took Callum’s hand. “I think maybe we should all just step back. Cool down. Talk about it later.”
Aiden flicked his gaze down at Isla, who squeezed his elbow. “Aiden, please,” she whispered.
Drawing a sharp breath in through his nose, Aiden nodded, trying to dig deeply for a single strand of calm.
Then Callum shook his head. “Love, Aiden? That’s rich. She’s been your girlfriend for what? Three weeks? Just stop lying. To everyone. Including yourself.”
Everyone stared at him.
With fucking judgment in their eyes.
His family. Workmates. Acquaintances. All of them looking at him and believing the worst—because he was so easy to believe the worst about.
Something deep inside him snapped. For once, for one bloody time, he wanted to come out on top. Prove to everyone he wasn’t the villain they all believed.
Just fucking win.
Aiden lifted his chin. “My wife, actually. For almost two months.” As Callum and Liddy’s faces registered shock, Aiden stepped closer.
“And you know, for someone who claims to value privacy as much as you do, I appreciate you airing our private business to everyone. But go right on defending that arsehole, Philip, if you want, but I’ll defend my wife. ”
Then he turned, not waiting for anyone—even Isla.
Let them all think what they would.
He was done.