Chapter 40 Aidan
AIDAN
It’s strange driving along Fruit Street again.
It’s only been a few days, but everything has changed.
I almost expect to feel some nostalgia, maybe even a flicker of doubt about my decision to walk away, but all I feel is relief.
I spent so long in those offices, working my ass off for something it turns out I didn’t even want.
Didn’t even need.
Iris glances at me as we pass the offices, as if checking I’m okay, and I squeeze her thigh.
We stayed up all night brainstorming ideas for the name of our new firm, eventually settling on something we both love: Lighthouse Architecture Studio.
We agreed not to use Prescott because neither of us wanted the tie to John, and I knew if her name couldn’t be in it, mine wouldn’t be either.
I wanted something that captured us both.
When Iris suggested the word lighthouse, inspired by the one we’d visited in Wetherly Cove on the weekend that brought us together, it felt right. Especially since we want to take on more unique projects like it.
Which is where we’re headed today. Iris knows someone with a carriage house in Brooklyn Heights who needs an architect, and she’s convinced we’re the right firm for the job.
She consults the map app on her phone, pointing to a tiny side alley called Lemon Lane, off Fruit Street. “Down there,” she says, and I turn, pulling up outside a dilapidated Federal-style carriage house.
I shut off the engine. As we climb from the car, I take in the symmetrical, two-story structure.
It’s red brick, with a large central arched door over what would have once been a horse stable.
To the left is a wooden door, ajar, and above sit three identical windows under a peaked roof.
The paint surrounding the window trims is chipped and peeling in places, ivy creeping up the brickwork, over mortar that’s seen better days, past the missing panes from one of the windows.
I nudge the front door open a little more, and it creaks on its hinges.
A musty smell seeps from inside, and when I spy debris and old wood strewn across the brick floor, I get a flashback to the Wetherly lighthouse.
It makes me smile. Iris slides her hand into mine, and warmth spreads through my chest when I see the excitement in her eyes.
The door opens abruptly, and I step back. A guy fills the frame, around my age, with dark hair and a beard flecked with gray, a flannel shirt open over a tee and worn jeans.
“You must be Aidan,” he says warmly, dropping a measuring tape into the tool belt around his waist and extending his hand. I take it in my own.
“Yes.” I glance at Iris. I’d thought we were meeting a woman. “Sorry, you’re…”
“Kyle. Kyle Armstrong.”
A short blond appears beside him and extends her hand too. “I’m Violet, Kyle’s wife and business partner.”
I glance between them in surprise. His wife? She looks to be at least fifteen years younger than him.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Aidan,” she adds, grinning.
Finally?
I arch a brow, glancing at Iris, whose cheeks turn pink as Violet pulls her into a hug. She’s got the lighthouse plans rolled in a tube under one arm, fumbling a little as Violet and her part. It occurs to me she’s nervous, and my heart squeezes. I touch my hand to her lower back, steadying her.
“Thanks for meeting us,” Iris says.
“Of course!” Violet motions to the carriage house. “Let’s go in.”
I take the tube from Iris, letting her go ahead, after Violet and Kyle.
We step gingerly onto the uneven brick of the first floor, sunlight filtering through the cracked windows to illuminate the exposed beams of the ceiling, sagging in places.
The faint smell of wood and damp permeates the space, the floor covered in rusted tools and what appears to be a lathe.
Kyle explains that the carriage house dates back to the mid-nineteenth century, when it would have originally been used for horses.
It looks like it’s been used as a woodworking studio more recently, then abandoned for a few years at least, but I can feel the history.
It still has the iron rings embedded in the brick walls where horses were once tied, a feature I wouldn’t remove.
Iris’s hand brushes mine. “Isn’t it cool?” she whispers, grinning, and I chuckle.
“It is,” I say, meaning it.
We follow Kyle up the rickety wooden stairs to a large, open-plan space.
There’s more light up here, cobwebs clinging to the exposed redbrick walls, floorboards creaking underfoot.
Already, I can see the possibilities—bathroom at the rear, living space near the windows, enough ceiling height for a mezzanine bedroom.
“Wow,” Iris says, gazing up at the vaulted timber ceiling, entranced. “This is beautiful.” Her eyes meet mine, shimmering. “Imagine what you could do with this place. God, imagine living here.”
I can’t stop the smile that breaks across my face. Just like at the lighthouse, the studios, she sees the beauty under the mess. That’s who she is.
And she’s mine. I still can’t believe it. Still can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be with this woman. After all those years I wasted, the times I didn’t treat her like the gift she is, the way I fucked up so badly. She saw past it all.
And I will never take that for granted.
I hand over the tube containing her lighthouse designs, and she clears a spot on the dusty floor, kneeling to spread out her sketches to show the others. They crouch beside her, intrigued.
“Here’s an example of a recent project we did at our previous firm,” Iris says, using a brick to pin down one corner of the prints.
She talks them through what she created, then riffs on ideas for the carriage house, highlighting the historical features.
Kyle and Violet listen intently, exchanging grins, and I hover nearby, pride blooming in my chest. Pride, and something else.
Possibility. Knowing Iris is my future, seeing her so excited, bursting with inspiration for this place, gives me an idea.
Violet’s phone rings, and she steps aside to take the call. The minute she’s done, I take the chance to speak to her quietly, away from the others.
“What are your plans for the place after it’s done?”
She shrugs. “We’ll sell it.”
I swallow. “Could we… buy it now, and hire your firm to handle the restoration?”
Her brows spring up in surprise. “You want to buy it?”
I glance at Iris as she gushes to Kyle about her vision for the space, more animated than I’ve ever seen her, my heart full. “Yes,” I say, the raw edge of emotion in my voice. “I want to buy it.”
Violet follows my gaze, softening. “For you two?”
I nod. A grin tugs at her mouth, and she tries her best to fold in her lips to hide it.
“Give me a moment to talk to Kyle. I’ll be right back.”
Iris wraps up her impromptu presentation, rolling up the plans and placing them carefully back in the tube.
Violet pulls Kyle aside, speaking to him in a low murmur, and Iris wanders the space again with a dreamy sigh, running a hand across the rough brickwork.
I watch her, growing more certain by the second.
I want to live here with her. This is where I want us to build our life, in a space we’ve designed, just for us. I’ve sat on a sizable nest-egg from my father for years, and I can’t think of a better way to spend it.
Eventually, Kyle nods at Violet, glancing my way. My heart climbs into my throat as he crosses to speak to me.
“Vi says you want to buy the place for you two?” He seems to know to keep his voice down, and I’m grateful.
“I do,” I murmur, and he nods, stroking a hand over his beard in contemplation.
“We’ll sell it,” he says at length. “On one condition.”
My gut tightens. Shit. What does he want? He seemed like a nice enough guy, but maybe I was wrong.
“What is it?” I ask tensely, and his face breaks into a grin.
“You and Iris come to dinner with the rest of the gang.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
Kyle chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder. “Violet’s been talking about you two nonstop. Wants you to meet our neighbors and friends.” He leans in closer, speaking conspiratorially. “And if you’re worried they might judge you for being with a younger woman, don’t be. We’re all in the same club.”
My eyebrows shoot up. There are more of them? The thought sends a strange sense of relief trickling through me. As much as I know Iris is the woman for me, some tiny, nagging part still worries about her age. Or rather, my age. That I’m too old for her.
But as I take in the kind smile on Kyle’s face, that part eases a little. Maybe there’s a place for us in this world after all.
I take his hand in a hearty handshake. “You’ve got a deal,” I say, and his face splits in a warm smile.
“Great.” He glances at the women talking excitedly. “If you’re happy to lock up, we’ll leave you two to talk.” Then he gives me his card, wandering over to his wife. Violet sends me a grin and a little wave before they exit, leaving me alone with Iris.
I release a slow, steadying breath as I walk toward her.
Toward my future.
“We’ve got our first client,” she says, beaming. “They loved the lighthouse.”
“Of course they did,” I murmur, gaze roaming thoughtfully over the space. “I think this would make a great home, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “I’d die to live somewhere like this.”
I bite back my smile. “I can also see it as a hybrid home and small office.” I glance at her, and she nods, deep in thought. “What do you think, baby?”
Her gaze returns to mine. “Absolutely.”
“Would you like that?”
Confusion flickers across her brow. “Like what?”
I turn to her squarely, taking her hands in mine. My gaze rests steadily on hers as I smile, and understanding dawns in her eyes.
“Wait,” she says breathlessly. “You mean…”
“Yes.” I squeeze her hands. “I think this would make the perfect office space for us. The perfect home for us.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“I am. If that’s what you want.”
A squeal escapes her as she launches herself into my arms. “Yes. Oh my God, Aidan, yes.”
My arms circle her waist, spinning her on the worn wooden floor as she giggles. When she draws back, her lips find mine, kissing me eagerly.
“I want to live here with you,” she whispers between kisses. “Work here with you. I can’t imagine anything better.”
Fuck.
She wants it. She wants this life with me. I’m the luckiest fucking guy on the planet.
My heart beats wildly as I slant my mouth over hers, walking her back against the brick wall.
“That’s where we’ll put the kitchen,” I say, voice roughening as I motion vaguely to one side of the room.
“The bathroom can go over there.” I grip her hips, dragging my mouth over her neck, up to her ear. “And the bed can go right here.”
“Yes,” she rasps, as I press my already stiff cock to the heat of her. She’s in a soft floral dress today, one I haven’t seen before, and I push my hand under it, up her warm thigh. “God, Aidan, I want you.”
My fingers brush her panties, making her quiver. “You want me, Cupcake?” I shove the lace aside to find her clit and stroke. “You need to ask properly.”
Her breath stutters, hips rocking against my hand. “Please, Daddy.”
“That’s my good girl,” I growl. Wasting no time, I free myself with my spare hand and thrust into the tight heat of her, pressing my forehead to hers. “I love you, Iris. I love you so fucking much.”
She strokes my cheek, eyes glistening. “I love you too. I can’t wait to build a life with you here.”
Emotion rushes up inside me, and I close my eyes, focusing on fucking her against the brick wall. The wall that has stood here for over a century before us, and will soon be our office. Our home.
After, Iris pulls her clothing back into place, looking suddenly shy. “I’ve been thinking,” she murmurs, fiddling with the hem of her dress. “I might… I want to get my architecture degree.”
I lift my brows. “Are you sure?” I ask, studying her carefully. “I’ll support that if you want it, of course, but we can make it work without it, sweetheart.”
“I want it,” she says firmly, straightening.
“But I want to do it on my own terms, at my own pace. I was thinking I could do it part-time, or take evening classes, so I can help you build the firm too.” She frowns, thinking, and I wait for her to go on.
“Knowing what I know about myself now… maybe I can even get some extra support or help.”
I gaze at her, heart overflowing. This woman will never stop surprising me. Never stop making me proud.
“That’s a great idea,” I say hoarsely, pulling her close.
As I press a kiss to her forehead, I realize I’ve never been happier. We’ve got a new home to design, a new firm to build. Those things are amazing, but they’re a bonus. Icing on the cake.
There’s only one thing I truly need to be happy, and it’s her.
She’s all I need.