Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“I sn’t this nice?” Annalise, who sat across from me at the oak table, beamed. “ Finally , a chance for us to sit down and have brunch together. I’ve missed this!”
Caroline sat beside her, picking up her mimosa flute. “Finally palatable company.”
Annalise tinked her own flute to Caroline’s. “Hear, hear!”
They waited for me, so I rushed to lift my mimosa. “Cheers.”
There were two restaurants on the estate, one on the hotel’s side, one on the country club’s side. The hotel’s restaurant was open to the public by reservation, but the country club’s was for members only. Neither restaurant had that impressive of a kitchen, which led to a limited menu, but the country club’s restaurant did have bottomless mimosas that we’d been going through.
Well, Caroline was. I was still nursing my first, and Annalise ordered a flute of plain orange juice first, saying she needed to temper her stomach .
The three of us sat at a six-person table, with Caroline and Annalise on one side and me on the other. I wasn’t exactly sure why Monica, our server, had sat us here, but I didn’t argue. Really, I felt awkward enough letting one of my coworkers wait on me, especially since I was with two highly influential people at the club. The Hollands and the Conans were in the top tier.
“Here are some extra plates for you.” Monica set a tray of bread in front of us. I avoided eye contact. “Do we still need a few more minutes to order?”
“If we could, please,” Annalise said gratefully. “In fact—we’ll be yapping for a bit. Can I wave you down when we’re ready?”
“Of course.” Monica tipped her head and backed away from our table. I didn’t miss the look she shot me.
It wasn’t just Monica that left me feeling uncomfortable, though. It’d been the first time sitting down with the two of them together since everything with Grant, and everything felt strange. Uneven. The emptiness of the seat beside me was hard to ignore, and not even because I missed Grant. I just hadn’t realized how grounded he’d made me feel, as if having him at my side made me less like an outsider.
Which was ridiculous. I shouldn’t have felt like an outsider with my best friends. What was wrong with me?
“How are you liking married life?” I asked Annalise.
“It’s good.” She shook her head with a small smile. “Sometimes it’s weird to wrap my head around the fact that this is the rest of my life. But I like it.”
“I can’t even imagine,” Caroline muttered. “Married to one person for the rest of your life?”
“The horror,” Annalise said with mock dismay.
I studied Annalise. Did she know about Aaron’s scheme to marry Fiona? I tried to remember if she’d said anything suspicious. Had Aaron fooled her, too? And Michael? Or was Michael in on it? I was never good at playing detective, but I couldn’t help but try to figure it out.
“How have things been for you?” Annalise asked me, leaning her chin onto her fist. “We’ve texted here and there, but fill me in. Any dating news or anything?”
It made perfect sense for her to ask. It’d been six months since I’d broken up with Grant. Plenty of time to rebound, and even rebound from that rebound.
“She doesn’t have time to date,” Caroline answered for me. “She’s working a lot.”
“You have a life outside of this job.” Annalise gave me an expectant look. “You should, anyway.”
“I do,” I insisted. “I’m just not dating. Not… yet.”
At my side, Caroline shook her head. “Same.”
“What happened to Derek?” Annalise asked.
Caroline gave a dramatic sigh. “We broke up a few weeks ago. The dating pool around here is abysmal, too. You’re smart for looking elsewhere for love, Anna.” She sipped at her mimosa again, nearly draining it. “You know, that makes sense, then.”
“What does?”
“Why you set Aaron up with Fiona instead of me, if you didn’t know I was single again.” Caroline raised her eyebrows. “But you haven’t been looking at my Instagram?”
Annalise’s cheeks flushed. “Well, I’ve been so busy?—”
“Did you ever talk to Margot?” I asked, slicing through the conversation that was going nowhere good. “About what happened at your wedding?”
Caroline smirked. “You mean Margot flipping the dessert table?”
After the meals had been served at Annalise’s wedding, and after she and Michael had their first dance, Margot had walked up to the dessert table, seemingly admiring the vast array of cupcakes and cake pops. And then, without a word, put her hands underneath it and flipped the table over.
Chaos had promptly ensued.
“Did she say why she did it? Was it because…” I hesitated, lowering my voice to a gossiping whisper. “ Aaron ?”
“Oh, not at all! She was upset about Nancy Du Ponte. She was upset that no one went to the funeral.”
“It was your wedding day, after all,” Caroline said. “Margot should’ve understood that.”
Annalise shook her head. “I would’ve gone if I hadn’t had a camera crew on me. That docuseries company were the true Bridezillas, I swear. I couldn’t even pee if it wasn’t in line with their schedule.”
Caroline snorted. “It did make for good entertainment, though.”
“And Margot called to apologize after it happened. Did I tell you that? Said she felt bad about it—imagine how shocked I was! Margot felt bad?” Her expression was astonished. “But my whole wedding docuseries on Bridal Monthly went viral because of it, so I told her we were even.”
“Whatever happened between her and Aaron?” I picked up a piece of bread, reaching for the butter, trying to be nonchalant as possible. “Weren’t they supposed to get married?”
Annalise hesitated. “Incompatible, I guess.”
“You didn’t talk about it? With Aaron, I mean?”
“What’s with the grilling?” Caroline raised an eyebrow. “As if we care that much about his love life.”
“Be nice about him,” Annalise murmured back to her. “He’s had a rough go of things. And besides, Aaron’s one of us.”
The words, as inclusive as she’d intended for them to be, caused a sliver of unease to slide along my skin. One of us , she’d said, but in my mind, it really translated to One of them .
“It fell through because Margot wanted to be with someone else,” Annalise told me. “There was so much miscommunication that happened. He didn’t realize it was her parents forcing her into it all. He wouldn’t have pursued her if he knew. But Fiona… it’s clear she’s crazy about him.”
“She’s crazy about him because her parents are getting ready to kick her out,” Caroline told Annalise. “She thinks she can marry Aaron, let him take the role in helping her father manage the business, and she can keep shopping to her heart’s content.”
“I doubt Aaron would mind much about that.”
I watched Annalise closely. Annalise moved to California two years ago, and in those two years, reading her had become harder. I didn’t know if she had a great poker face or if she actually had no clue Aaron wanted to marry Fiona for money.
It didn’t matter, of course. It changed nothing about my deal with Aaron. But the curiosity still bit at me.
“Did Caroline…” Annalise trailed off, glancing at the girl beside her.
Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Did Caroline, what?”
“Did you… tell Lovey?”
Caroline went rigid in her seat. I glanced between them. “Tell me what?”
“I didn’t.” Caroline’s voice was definitely tense now, firm.
They exchanged a look with each other that I couldn’t read, waiting until they decided to confess it to me. Left out of whatever inside scoop they shared. The few sips of mimosa I’d had churned in my stomach.
“It’s nothing,” Caroline said, but still wouldn’t meet my eye. She tipped the remaining contents of her mimosa back. “It’s not that big of a deal?—”
“ Aaaannalise! ”
Caroline and Annalise were facing the direction of the entrance, and Caroline drew in a breath that sounded more like a groan. When I turned, I fought the urge to do the same.
Fiona Flannagan.
The twenty-seven-year-old in question wore a bright yellow sundress with a matching hat that hid most of her vibrant auburn hair, waving her slender hand in the air like a flag. One that signaled dangerous waters ahead.
“You invited her?” Caroline demanded as I slumped back in my seat, sounding betrayed.
Relief washed over me. At least she hadn’t known either. “Don’t be mad,” Annalise begged in a hushed voice. “How was I supposed to say no?—”
“Ah, you got the table near the window!” Fiona gushed when she arrived in front of us, grinning at the scenery of the golf course. “Such a beautiful view.”
Caroline looked around the restaurant. “Where’s our waitress? I need another glass.”
Fiona’s expression faltered when she turned to me. “Who’s this?”
“Lovey Hahn.” Annalise sighed. “Fiona, come on. You saw her on Saturday.”
“ Saturday .” She nodded emphatically. “When you dumped your tray on Aaron! Jeez, what’s wrong with me? You look so different without the polo and the high ponytail, Lovey. I’m kind of surprised!”
To give her credit, I wasn’t sure we’d ever held a conversation before. Especially not out of my uniform. Back when I dated Grant, almost no one knew about us. We’d kept it a secret, and it hadn’t been that hard, since only a year after we’d made it official, he went off to college. So even though I’d gotten close with Caroline and Annalise because of the relationship, Fiona’s path never crossed with mine outside of the estate.
I gave her my signature Alderton-Du Ponte smile. “It’s good to see you again, Fiona.” That lie sounded realistic, right?
“Could you… move down one seat?”
“Move down?” I glanced at the empty chair beside me across from Caroline. “Why?—”
A new voice spoke behind me. “Right, you wouldn’t mind, would you, Lovisa?”
My eyes slipped shut on their own accord for a brief second. You’ve got to be kidding me .
Aaron Astor stood behind me in a loose-fitted cotton shirt, a light jacket thrown over it, finished with a pair of dark chinos. His gaze sparkled, along with his smirk. “Not at all,” I said with forced politeness. “Anything for the lovebirds.”
“Wow, the whole gang’s here.” Caroline’s voice held zero excitement. “Good to see you, too, Michael.”
I fell into the seat across from Caroline as Aaron pulled out the chair beside me, Fiona on his other side, and Michael sitting beside his wife. He gave Annalise a quick peck on the cheek. “Have we ordered yet?”
I found myself surrounded by people who had more money in their pockets than they knew what to do with—aside from disowned Aaron, but he still fell into that category. Sophisticated. Expensive. Worth far more than I had saved in my bank account.
Surrounded by people who would’ve looked at Mom’s dream house and laughed.
Now I truly felt out of place.
Mr. Roberts’s voice was a quiet scolding in my ear. I might recommend you be more mindful of personal relationships while on Alderton-Du Ponte grounds . Yeah, this was quite literally doing the opposite of his advice.
Thankfully, Monica noticed the new additions to our party right away, coming over and getting their drink order—and delivering more mimosas. Caroline picked hers up immediately. “So, Aaron, how long are you in Addison for?”
“The charity’s hosting a fundraiser at the end of the month,” he replied, leaning comfortably in his seat. “So I’ll be here for that. Annalise, when are you heading back?”
“The ninth.”
“I’ll probably book my ticket for the same timeframe.” Aaron delicately laid a napkin over Fiona’s lap. “I’d hate to leave the fun early.”
His birthday was on the sixth. So Aaron planned to go back to California married . How he was going to sell Fiona on a rushed wedding was beyond me. But like Caroline said, Fiona was desperate to get married—maybe it wouldn’t be too hard of a sell.
“How are the talks about the Du Ponte Music Hall coming?” I asked Aaron. I could be normal. I could engage in conversation. Despite how I felt, I could fit in. “Is the charity hoping to host the fundraiser in that space?”
Aaron didn’t look over, though, but tore open one of the wet wipes on the table and dabbed at his fingers. “That’s the plan, if the board stops playing hard to get. They’ve gone from missing the key, to insisting it’s a safety issue to enter. That the stage itself is falling apart. They should be more creative with their lies, don’t you think? Our charity director is giving them too much leeway.”
“You might as well give up,” Caroline told him. “Take the cash they’re offering. It’s much better than fighting for something they won’t let you have.”
“The music hall is something the original owner had designed, isn’t it?” Aaron asked as he reached for the bread at the center of the table. “It’d be a shame to tear it down.”
Caroline gestured at him with her mimosa. “You didn’t even like Nancy Du Ponte.”
Aaron smiled, but his eyebrows drew together. “According to whom?”
“To be honest, who did like Nancy Du Ponte?” Fiona wrinkled her nose. “She was old and mean.”
“And crazy,” Caroline added.
“Margot.” I didn’t look at anyone as I spoke. “Margot liked Ms. Du Ponte.”
Fiona’s frown deepened. “And who even liked Margot?”
“I did.” Aaron slid his butterknife along the bread, diligently spreading it, not glancing up as he sent the table into a hush. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he did so, and he gave his head a little flick to knock the lock back. “To answer your question, dear Caroline, my liking of Ms. Du Ponte has nothing to do with it. I just believe it would be a shame turning something with history since the 1940s into another amenity meant to cater to those who don’t appreciate its value.”
“My father’s in luxury real estate,” Caroline said, crossing one leg over the other. “He says sentiment is the fastest way to tank a deal. If a spa brings in more members than a stage ever could, what’s the point of preserving nostalgia? Around here, people don’t appreciate the value of music theaters.”
“A fundamental flaw,” Aaron murmured, lifting his gaze to hers. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
I fought the urge to smile. Even though my relationship with Aaron was tumultuous at best, it was a relief to see him so passionate about saving the hall. That he was on the same page as me—the only one who was.
“Caroline,” Fiona began, waving her hand over the table as if to catch Caroline’s attention. “I heard your brother’s coming home for the fundraiser at the end of the month. Is it true he’s bringing his new girlfriend?”
I stilled with my fingers on my mimosa stem, my world screeching to a halt.
Grant hadn’t been back to Addison since last July. It’d been the world’s quickest trip, because he’d wanted to be back before the semester started in August. Quick enough that he’d never made an appearance at Alderton-Du Ponte—just my apartment. He’d whispered empty promises in my ear, like he’d done every time he came home.
It’s only you , he’d said.
It’s hard, being apart for so long, but I’m building a future for us , he’d said.
I’ll come back for you, like I always do, he’d said.
The calming, placating words were meaningless now, just as they had been back then. It was like thinking someone had been performing Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 for real, but finding out they’d synced their phone up with the speakers instead.
I knew now, he’d said those things to appease his own conscience. A lie. All of it had been a lie.
“Fiona,” Annalise hissed, jaw dropping. Caroline’s face could’ve been carved from stone.
I waited for Caroline to say no, that she hadn’t known, but her lips never parted.
Did you… tell her? That was what Annalise had been talking about. Grant.
“What? They’ve been broken up for, like, ever.” Fiona leaned over to see me around Aaron. “Does this bother you, Lovey?”
I stared at her, digging my fingers into my legs underneath the table. Despite not knowing about us while we dated, Fiona had found out shortly about us after we’d broken up. I had no idea how, but I was still surprised she hadn’t spread the rumor like wildfire.
“Grant is Caroline’s brother,” Fiona told Aaron. “And Lovey’s ex. He’s at Stanford for political science—doesn’t want anything to do with the realty business, right, Caroline? But political science. It’s so impressive!”
I’d never liked Fiona, and in that moment, I liked her even less. The only two people who didn’t know the lore of Grant and me were Michael and Aaron, two people who probably couldn’t have cared less, but she wanted to tell them, anyway. Grant was off at a stellar school for an impressive major, whereas Lovey was stuck working doubles at a country club. The not-so-subtle interjection of my place. She needed to prove she was the superior one, simply because she could. She was as transparent as a piece of glass.
“Well, that’s an interesting bit of trivia.” Aaron’s tone was light, as if it wasn’t an interesting topic worth lingering on as he buttered the next piece of bread. “I don’t see why it’s relevant, though, dear.”
Michael cracked a laugh at that, his wife exasperated beside him. I watched Aaron slide his knife across the bread, gaze lingering on his fingers. It was ridiculous, but in that moment, in a sort of distant way, I wondered what those fingers would look like stretched out across piano keys. It was the kind of a thought that surfaced when your brain felt numb. Aaron said he played with emotion; how did he lose himself in a piece? What was his favorite composition to perform?
I shouldn’t be wondering, shouldn’t be thinking about it, but I was.
Before I looked away, Aaron moved. Instead of lifting his piece of bread to his mouth, Aaron, without looking, set it on my side plate. He did it silently before picking up his glass of water. No one seemed to notice except for Caroline, whose mouth was a flat line.
I stared at the bread with the smear of butter. The silent action was ridiculous, meaningless, but my stomach gave a small flip.
“I’m giving you context,” Fiona said innocently, patting Aaron’s arm. “He and Lovey broke up—when was it, Lovey? August? September?”
My voice was dull. “September.”
“That’s right! Just after the semester started. Weird, I thought—Caroline, didn’t Grant post about his new girlfriend in September? I could’ve sworn?—”
“Wow.” Caroline’s stare was icy. “You keep better track of my brother’s love life than I do. Should I be worried? Should Aaron ?”
“Of course not!” Now Fiona’s face went red. “I was—I was only making conversation, that’s all. Besides, it’s not like Grant’s taste is that great anyway?—”
“Fiona, would you shut up? ” Annalise’s voice cracked through the restaurant, causing heads to swivel in our direction.
I wondered what people saw—five diners dressed in Malstoni and Giflman and Claire Haute, and one girl in Old Navy jeans and a pink sweater that her mom wore in the nineties. I wondered if they saw perfect blowouts and a girl who’d let her blonde grow to expose too much brown root. They probably saw perfect manicures and a girl’s nails that were stubs from working.
“I forgot how eventful brunches are,” Michael said to no one in particular. “Nothing like a mimosa with a side of gossip. Who’d like to go next?”
Under the table, I traced my fingers almost desperately, pressing down on my skin to try to find the calluses on my left fingertips. Growing up playing the cello, the calluses from pressing the strings had become a comfort. A sign of my dedication, that I was worthy to approach any concert, any recital, any stage, any cello. If I ever was nervous, I’d trace the bumps of skin, grounding myself, proving I belonged.
I had none now. They’d faded long ago, just like that dream had.
Out of place . It was starkly apparent. I didn’t belong at this table. The odd one out wasn’t Fiona; it was me.
I turned in time to see Monica murmuring something in one of the other girl’s ear, and both of them were staring straight at me. They giggled. Whether they whispered about what they’d overheard or my presence in general, I had no idea, but it didn’t matter.
What am I doing? Something similar to panic surfaced within me. What am I doing?
I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping against the floor. Everyone at my table turned to me, startled. “I didn’t want to say anything,” I said, focusing solely on Annalise. Out of everyone, in that moment, I felt the guiltiest toward her. “But Mr. Roberts asked me not to mingle with members too much on the estate’s grounds. I should—I should head out.”
“When?” Caroline asked. “When did he say that?”
Our gazes locked, and a beat of something uncomfortable flashed between us. “The other day.”
“We can go somewhere else,” Annalise suggested, eyes wide. “We can?—”
“It’s okay,” I insisted, rising to my feet and picking up my purse, digging through it for my wallet. “You can put this toward my mimosa?—”
“We can buy your drink,” Caroline said. “You knew we were going to anyway, right?”
My fingers curled around the ten-dollar bill, ears going hot. Her voice was casual, but the words still settled wrong. You knew we were going to anyway . As if she thought I’d expected them to pay for me. The idea hit me like a punch to the gut.
I pressed the money to the table, and I couldn’t help it; I slipped into the Alderton-Du Ponte tone. “Enjoy the rest of your brunch.”
I almost ran into Monica when I turned around, and she had to pull her tray back before I crashed into it. “Sorry,” she said, but didn’t sound it.
I had a death grip on my purse strap as I hurried from the country club’s restaurant. A tight pressure squeezed the back of my throat, almost like I was about to throw up. You shouldn’t have done that , I thought as I walked away, spine stiff. You should’ve sat there. Why did you make everything so awkward?
“Heading out already?” Jeff, an older man who worked the country club’s valet, asked as he stepped up to me.
“Sorry for the trouble.” Instead of going to the employee lot when I’d pulled into Alderton-Du Ponte, I’d pulled up to the valet. I pinched my fingers tightly. “I can go get it myself?—”
“Bask in the luxury for once,” he told me with a wink. “I’ll be right back with it.”
As he hurried to get my car, I stood perfectly still, drawing in breath after quick breath. Goosebumps rose on my skin, but my cheeks were hot, my embarrassment kept me warm despite the chill outside.
Things had been off with Caroline and Annalise even before the other three joined our party. I’d felt off. I couldn’t sink into the conversation the way I used to. My laughter came out forced, my responses a beat too slow. I felt like I was watching from the outside rather than being a part of it. What was wrong with me? Why was I uncomfortable around my friends? Contrary to what Mr. Roberts thought, there was nothing wrong with spending time with them. There was nothing awkward or uncomfortable about it—so what was my deal?
And Grant. Grant . Of course he would come back at some point. His parents lived here. His sister lived here. Eventually, I’d be confronted with him again. But why wouldn’t Caroline give me a heads up? Why hadn’t she mentioned it when Annalise brought it up?
I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I was transported back to that abnormally chilly night in June. The five-year anniversary of my mother’s passing. Annalise had her wedding that weekend, and Caroline, as her maid of honor, had been consumed with it as well. Of course, they had other things on their minds. It wasn’t fair of me to hold it against them. If it mattered that much, I should have said something.
But I hadn’t. I’d swallowed it down, told myself it wasn’t worth bringing up. That I was being selfish. That it would fade.
And maybe that was the problem. I buried things, convinced myself they weren’t important. I smiled when I was supposed to, laughed on cue, played my part.
Even when I wasn’t working, I had my Alderton-Du Ponte uniform on around my friends—polished, careful, never entirely myself.
You shouldn’t keep living a life you resent , Aaron had said all those months ago. Jump .
“You know how to make an exit, don’t you?”
I jerked around mid-spiral to find Aaron standing outside the double doors. “What are you doing out here?” I demanded with a frown. “Right, because you chasing after the help isn’t suspicious.”
“You’re not the help .” He returned my scowl with one of his own, slipping his hands into his pants pockets. “And I told them my mother was calling me.”
“The one who disowned you?”
Aaron gave a slow blink, expression unchanging. His gaze darted to the worker at the valet station, but the man was more interested in something on his phone. “She cut me off,” he said tightly. “There’s a difference.”
“Did you tell Michael and Annalise about everything?”
Aaron didn’t reply. At least, not to that. “Fiona was only trying to gossip.”
It took me a second to understand the subject change, and I nearly scoffed. “She just likes to hear herself talk. She doesn’t bother me.” Before he called me out on that, I pressed on. “Why her, though? Out of all the women in the world, why Fiona Flannagan ?”
“She wants to get married.”
I waited, but he didn’t go on. “It’s that simple?”
“For me, it is.”
Of course it was. For him, everything was easy. Nothing truly mattered. I did scoff this time, scrubbing a hand down my face, uncaring if I smudged my concealer. “I truly don’t belong at that table, do I?” I muttered to myself with a small laugh.
Aaron’s shoes clipped against the ground as he walked closer. “You should’ve told Fiona off for flaunting that guy in front of you.”
“Why? Did you have the perfect defense on the tip of your tongue? ‘ Don’t talk to my woman that way ’? Or wait, let me guess—’ As if we’ll listen to the help ’?”
Aaron’s frown deepened now into something harsher, brows scrunching with the severity. “Would you knock it off?”
“What?”
“ The help, the help .” He stopped right in front of me, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know if you’re being self-deprecating for a laugh or if it’s a subconscious slip, but stop acting like that’s all you are. You are not your job, Lovisa, and frankly, it’s irritating to hear you talk like that.”
His words struck a chord in me, but the feeling wasn’t easy to shake. “Oh, it’s irritating, is it?” Sarcasm dripped from my voice. “My apologies.”
“Not everything has to turn into an argument.” Aaron lowered his head, bringing his gaze closer. “Stop trying to turn this into one.”
I opened my mouth to launch something back, then stopped. The edge in me dulled a little the longer he looked into my eyes. His were dark, almost too dark to even see his pupil, but there was the faintest difference. Wind dragged his hair across his forehead, shuttering my view for a moment before he pushed it back. He was right; I was taking it out on him. He wasn’t the one I was mad at. I wasn’t even mad —I just felt like a cello string wound too tight, pressure vibrating through me, on the verge of snapping.
Aaron lifted his other hand, and it took me a second to realize what he held between his middle and index finger. It was the ten-dollar bill I’d left on the table.
I stared at it for a beat longer before lifting my attention back to him. “I have more pride than that.”
“Says the girl who’s blackmailing me for a house.”
I sucked in a breath, ready to launch back at him as the breeze slipped under the porte-cochere again.
“That,” Aaron murmured, this time reaching out and smoothing my blonde hair back out of my face, “was supposed to be a joke.”
Two urges dueled within me—one to hold still under his touch and the other to smack his hand away. The former won out to the gentle gesture, but barely. “You bring out the worst in me,” I told him.
“You think the worst of me,” he countered, taming my flyaways for one more moment before dropping his hand. “I understand. I’ve been told I’m not that likeable.”
That pulled a startled laugh out of me, an ugly sound that was mixed between a chuckle and a scoff. Aaron softened at the sound, as if it was some sort of victory. It wasn’t. But he could think whatever he wanted.
The rattling sound of my car’s exhaust filled the air then, along with the pungent stench of it, and I turned to find Jeff putting the clunker in park. He hopped out, leaving the door open. “Here you go, Lovey.”
“Thank you,” I told him, taking the key when he offered it out. I tipped my head toward Aaron. “He has your tip.”
Aaron, after passing the ten-dollar bill to the valet, eyed my sedan in horror. “This is yours?”
“Cinderella had a pumpkin.” I patted the rusting hood. “Mine’s a bit nicer than a pumpkin.”
“If you say so.” Aaron had followed me and stopped on the other side of my open car door, hands curving along the top of it. “After you, my dear.”
I slid into the driver’s seat with an eye roll, and Aaron walked around to make sure my legs were inside the car. Before he shut the door, he hesitated, gaze slipping over me as if there was something he was about to say.
“What?” I asked.
“I think this is my first time seeing you out of uniform.”
I stretched my seatbelt across my sweater, buckling myself in. “Is this the part when you realize I’m kinda pretty?” I meant it teasingly, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I cringed. It sounded almost like I was flirting .
“No.” Aaron’s tone was casual, matter of fact. My jaw dropped, but before I fired back, he added, “I’ve always known.”
And then he shut the door between us.
I stared at Aaron’s back as he retreated into the club, not giving me so much as a second glance. A mix of embarrassment and something else—something unspoken—gnawed at me. The anger that’d burned moments ago had faded, but it left me still feeling warm. Alive . It was new to me, as someone who moved through every day in a cold and quiet indifference. It was like I’d just finished listening to a symphony, one with so many abrupt key changes that the notes still echoed in my head, even though the music had stopped. A piece that left you feeling disoriented… and wanting to listen to it again.
I shook my head once, hard. “Get a grip, Lovisa,” I told myself, reaching for the gearshift. “Get a freaking grip.”