Chapter 20
“I mean,” he adds with a shrug, “I’ll need the exercise now that I cancelled my gym membership.”
I glance up. “You did?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I realized… there’s no real reason a married father of two needs to be at the gym every day. I still might go sometimes, just to stay active, but I’ll just get a pass. No more obsessive lifting or cardio spreadsheets.”
Something about that makes me smile. “I think we’d enjoy that,” I say. “Maybe go hiking or something.”
“Just the two of us,” he finishes.
I nod, letting the words settle between us. Just the two of us. There’s a weight in that. But also, a beginning.
“I think we just broke one of the rules,” I say, nudging my wine glass aside and grinning at him across the table.
He leans in, eyes warm. “Damn. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
He takes another sip of his drink, then tilts his head. “How’s work?”
“It’s good,” I say, reaching for my fork. “I mean, I’m still technically on vacation. But… actually, Matthew’s been talking about retiring. And he said he’s going to recommend either me or Grant for his position.”
Aiden’s eyebrows rise. “Wow. That’s huge, Kate.”
“It’s not official,” I say quickly. “But Matthew’s role? That was the goal. It’s what I’ve worked toward for years.”
He catches the shift in my tone. “ Was the goal?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know… it just feels like more responsibility. Less actual work, more politics. More hours away.”
He nods slowly. “I get that. But…” He sets his fork down, offering me a little smile. “If they have any idea how amazing Kate Bennet is, they’d never even consider giving that job to anyone else.”
I look at him, a little thrown by the certainty in his voice. It makes something shift in my chest. “How about you?” I ask, taking another bite. “How’s NASA?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine.” Then, without pause, he sighs. “No. It’s not. I’m just… tired, Kate. Tired of the politics, the endless meetings, the red tape. I love the work; I really do but lately it’s all tours and public talks. I haven’t been on a real project in months.”
I study him. Aiden’s always been a builder, a solver, someone who needs to create to breathe. Hearing that spark fade from his voice twists something inside me.
“And?” I ask gently.
He hesitates, then exhales. “I’ve been thinking about quitting. For a while now.”
I blink. “Quitting NASA?”
He nods, eyes lifting to meet mine. “Sounds crazy, right? It was the dream.”
I shake my head. “Dreams change. Besides, your dream was never just NASA. It was building our house.”
He laughs softly, that crooked smile surfacing. “God. The plans I made. The sketches. That whole binder full of designs.”
“The glass atrium,” I say, smiling. “The skylight over the kitchen.”
“And the built-in slide for the boys instead of stairs,” he adds with a sigh. “They’re too old for that now.”
We both fall quiet, sitting there in the soft candlelight, surrounded by the low murmur of conversation and the soft clink of silverware.
“You should do it,” I say. “Quit, or take a break if that feels better. I mean, we’re in a place financially where we can afford it.” Then I smile. “Besides… you could be my house husband.”
He laughs, head tilting back. “I am the better cook.”
“And you look really pretty in an apron.”
He chuckles, but I lean in, more serious now. “I mean it. I’ll support you. In whatever.”
After dinner, neither of us is ready for the night to end.
So, we head to Sylvan Rodriguez Park. What started as a stiff, awkward evening has softened into something surprisingly easy.
Natural. We haven’t stopped talking since we crashed through that first wall of silence.
Aiden’s opened up in ways he never used to, not just facts I already knew, but the feelings behind them.
I’ve shared, too. Parts of my past I usually keep tucked away.
Not shiny, not neat. Just real. And for the first time in a long time… that feels okay.
He groans suddenly, tilting his head back dramatically. “Oh my God. I cannot believe I got you a spa weekend with both our mothers. What was I thinking?”
I laugh, sharp and real. “I know what you were thinking, that I’d murder you, and no one would blame me when they found out why.”
He gives me that sheepish grin, the one that says I know I messed up, but I’m hoping you still think I’m cute. “Was it really that bad?”
“At one point,” I say, dead serious, “and I swear I’m not exaggerating. they started comparing their sex lives.”
His face contorts in horror. “No. Ew. I don’t want to know that.”
“Well I had to. So now you have to.”
He groans again, clapping his hands over his ears. “This is trauma. Actual trauma.”
He starts to walk ahead, but I catch his hand before he gets too far. Aiden doesn’t pull away. Instead, he threads our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His smirk is smug. And familiar.
The air in the park smells faintly of grass and warm pavement. The lights of downtown glow low on the horizon, the trail winding ahead of us in peaceful quiet.
“So anyway,” I continue, my voice playful, “your mom starts talking about how great her sex life is now that she married Harold. And that they’re, ah-”
He cuts me off mid-sentence, pulling me toward him and leaning in with no warning, pressing his mouth to mine. The kiss is soft but deep, urgent in a way that says please, for the love of God, stop talking about Harold. I laugh against his lips.
A few seconds later, right before it becomes inappropriate for public space, he pulls back and keeps walking like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just use a kiss as a tactical escape.
“Cheap move,” I say, still smiling.
He squeezes my hand. “Effective, though.”
We walk around the park, chatting about nothing when Aiden says, cautiously. “Will you tell me how you knew? About…”
I meet his eyes. “The stripper.”
He nods, slowly. It’s a question I’ve been expecting, just not right now. Taking a breath, I answer. “At the anniversary party, when I went to the bathroom. I ran into Eli who was drunk. And… well, you know Eli.”
Aiden lets out a short, tired laugh and shakes his head.
“Oh come on,” I say. “You know he always hated me.”
He scoffs. “Eli doesn’t hate you. I’m pretty sure he’s in love with you.”
I blink. “What?”
He stops walking, holding my hand, so I have to do the same. “Remember when you first met him? That winter break, he crashed at our place because I hitched a ride home with him?”
“Oh. Right.” The memory flickers in. Eli, lanky and loud, crashing on our couch with a giant duffel bag, he had been nice to me then.
Aiden nods. “Yeah. After I got back to school, he wouldn’t shut up about you.
Nonstop. Asking about you, bringing you up in every conversation.
At first, I tried to be cool about it, but then…
” he pauses, grimacing like the memory still stings, “…I kind of snapped when he started telling the guys how ‘pretty’ and ‘hot’ you were.”
I stare at him, blinking. “Wait. What did you do?”
“I grabbed his throat,” Aiden says flatly.
I reel back. “You what?”
“I told him you were going to be my wife. And if he ever said anything like that again, I’d rip his face off.”
I stare at him, speechless. Aiden has never been the aggressive type, at least not outwardly. He’s always been calm, composed. The idea of him grabbing someone by the neck over me doesn’t compute.
He looks down for a second, jaw tight. “I know you don’t like possessiveness, but… damn it, he pissed me off.”
I pause. “Who said that? I never said that.”
His brows furrow, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “In high school. When I shoved Trevor into a locker for trying to stare down your shirt. You didn’t talk to me for two days. At least, not until I broke into your grandma’s house.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I forgot about that.” I shake my head, grinning at the memory. “Coming downstairs in the middle of the night and finding Grandma pointing a shotgun at your chest? That was hilarious.”
“It was not funny to me,” Aiden says, still bewildered.
“I wasn’t mad at you,” I say. “Remember? Your mom stormed into the school and said I was a bad ‘influence,’ ” I throw up air quotes, “then called Grandma and got my phone taken away. You were suspended, so we couldn’t even talk at school.”
He stares at me, blinking like someone hit play on a memory reel. “Oh, that’s right. Mom wouldn’t let up until I lied and said we broke up. I can’t believe I forgot that.”
I shrug, slower now. “It was almost eighteen years ago.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then, a little more carefully, he asks, “So… you don’t mind if I get a little crazy when other men look at you?”
I meet his eyes, dead serious. “Honestly? I actually find it kind of sexy.”
He tilts his head, squinting at me like I’ve just revealed I’m fluent in Russian.
“What?” I laugh.
“You’re full of surprises tonight,” he says, but he’s smiling now, something warm and slightly stunned behind his eyes.
I smile as we start walking again.
“Since you don’t mind it, remember Jack’s barking habit?”
I let out a snort. “How could I forget?” Every time I used to take Jack to the park while Grandma watched Alex, he’d be fine, running around, going up and down the slides. But the second anyone came near me, he’d trot back and start barking. At everyone.
“He barked at everyone,” I say, remembering. “Even moms with strollers.”
Aiden’s smile turns sheepish. “He couldn’t tell the difference between men and women. All he knew was that he was Daddy’s little soldier, and his job was to protect Mommy.”
My mouth drops open. “Everyone thought I was crazy for letting my son bark at strangers like that.”
Aiden lifts one eyebrow, smug and unrepentant. “I knew those parks. Knew those desperate little shits trying to pick up my woman.”
“They were there with their kids, Aiden.”
He leans in, totally deadpan. “I don’t care. Nobody hits on my woman.”
I should not like this side of him. It is irrational and a little archaic and completely caveman. But I do. God help me, I really do. So, I ask, gently, curiously, “What else?”
He doesn’t look at me right away. His gaze stays on the path ahead, lit dimly by the soft spill of a distant lamp post. “The reason I didn’t push for the wedding sooner,” he says after a moment, “was because I was saving.”
“Saving?” I echo.
“Yeah,” he says. “I wanted to throw you your dream wedding. You always said you didn’t care about that stuff, and maybe you meant it, but I wanted it anyway.
I wanted the big white dress and the string lights and our kids walking you down the aisle and everything you said you didn’t need.
Because you deserved it. And maybe…” He pauses, glancing at me sideways.
“Maybe I also wanted all those horny fuckers to see you were mine.”
I blink, stunned. “I thought your mom gave us half.”
He gives me the slowest, most deliberate side eye. “You think?”
I squint at him. “Wait. Are you telling me-”
He shrugs, a little too casually. “She gave us a little. I covered the rest. Sold my motorcycle, remember?”
“I thought that was because you got scared of crashing.”
He scoffs. “No. I loved that bike. I sold it because I loved you more.”
My heart kicks hard in my chest. For years, I had no idea. I thought he pushed for the wedding cause he tired of the jabs. But now, strolling through the park with him, I see it differently. I see the quiet things he did, the unspoken sacrifices, the little choices that I never even noticed.
“You should’ve told me,” I say, voice soft.
“I didn’t want credit,” he says. “I just wanted you to be happy.”
I stop walking and gently tug him to a halt beside me. The path behind us is quiet, the night still. I step closer, close enough to feel his breath, and lean up, my lips brushing his as I whisper, “I was happy. That day… I was really, really happy.”
His eyes search mine, like he’s checking if I mean it, if he can let himself believe it. And then, slowly, his hands come up, one cupping my cheek, the other settling at my waist.
The kiss that follows isn’t rushed. It’s deep, full, almost a claim. The kind that says everything we haven’t dared to say. That we’re still here. Still trying. Still wanting. I melt into him, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls me closer, holding me like I’m something precious.
When we finally break apart, Aiden leans his forehead against mine. His hands settle on my waist, and he starts to sway us gently right there on the path. There’s no music, just the rhythm of us and the quiet hum of the park around us.
People walk past, glancing, curious.
“People are looking at us,” I murmur.
“Let them,” he says, eyes still closed. “I’ve got the most beautiful woman in my arms.”
My heart squeezes. Even after a few minutes, I can still feel the warmth of his body pressed to mine, still feel him resting low against my stomach. Without thinking, I shift slightly, rubbing against him with the smallest movement.
He groans, low and strained. “You’re killing me.”
I blink up at him, all innocence. “What?”
He narrows his eyes like he knows exactly what game I’m playing. “You knew what you were doing when you put those heels on, woman.”
I laugh, soft and unrepentant. “Oh, so you remember these?”
“ You ,” he says, voice low, “wearing nothing but those heels… our first night on the honeymoon? That’s burned into my spank bank forever.”
I laugh again, leaning into him as we continue to sway to music only we can hear. The world spins around us, slow, distant, irrelevant.
Right now, there’s only him.
And me.
And this moment we didn’t know we needed until it found us again.