Chapter 31 Mia
Mia
Katya didn’t let me live down my walk of shame the day after my date with my ex-husband, at his place that used to be our home.
“I had about six orgasms,” I showed off. “Ever had that happen to you?”
“Bitch!” Katya glowered at me. “Aiden and his magic dick.”
“He asked me to come back.”
Katya’s face fell. I know she loves that I live with her and that we go see Anya together. We’re sisters, and it’s special to live together.
“I told him I need time.”
She releases a long breath. “Mia, if you want to—”
“Nope. Not ready,” I cut her off. “Not everything is about you. This is about me.”
But the truth is, and she knows, that I don’t want to leave her when Anya is so ill. I also don’t want to be without her because we’re the two people alive in the world who love Anya the most. When she goes, we’re going to break. I know it, and so does she.
She looks bereft, and I hate leaving her alone at home, but I’m going to see Hux and Aiden; he specified that this was not a date but just dinner.
He’s being cute and I’m there for it.
“You sure you don’t want to join me for dinner?” I ask again.
“Not in a good place, Mia.” Katya wraps her arms around her belly.
“You want me to—”
“No,” she says emphatically. “I want to be alone. Go away. I also told Cristiano to leave me be. He was going to come over with popcorn and watch Dune with me.”
I know she wants to be alone to grieve Anya.
I get it.
“And you want to watch Dune alone because of all your lusty thoughts about Timothée Chalamet,” I tease.
She chuckles. “Yeah.”
We both pretend she’s alright, but I know she isn’t.
I kiss her cheek. “You need me, you call me.”
“You know I will.”
I walk to the restaurant where I’m meeting Aiden—it’s only twenty minutes from Katya’s place, and I need the time to think. About her. About Anya. About me and Aiden.
By the time I get there, I’m no wiser but definitely calmer.
Hen of the Woods is a cozy, warm space with exposed beams, flickering candles, and the kind of moody lighting that makes everything feel like a secret worth keeping.
The scent of roasted garlic and woodsmoke hugs the air, and the wine list is so impressive that I gawk, flipping the pages.
I’m already seated with Aiden when Huxley arrives. He stops short, does an exaggerated double-take, and throws a hand to his chest like he’s shocked.
“Well, well,” he drawls, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “You with him, darling?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
“I thought maybe he was delusional when he told me you’d be coming along,” Huxley continues, settling into his chair with the ease of someone who owns the room.
“He told me you were desperate to see me, so I felt obliged,” I shoot back, slipping into the banter like it’s a language I never forgot. Because it is. Huxley and I always got along—unlike the rest of Aiden’s family.
“Like I said, the man’s losing his marbles.”
Aiden gives him a dry, long-suffering look. “Do not scare off my date.”
I arch an eyebrow at Aiden, savoring his choice of words. “I thought this wasn’t a date?”
Aiden groans, and drops his head back against the booth. “See? You’re already causing problems, Hux.”
Huxley grins wickedly, unbothered. “Buddy, if she’s survived your mother, your father, and your mid-life CEO crisis, I think a little delusion isn’t going to scare her away.”
We all laugh.
God, it feels good to laugh.
The waiter brings warm bread, with whipped butter and sea salt.
Aiden gets a bottle of Australian Syrah, which is rich and velvety. Huxley complains about it. He’s a French wine snob.
It feels like the old days, when we’d go out for dinner with friends, except…better.
There’s no pressure to perform. No pretense. Just a quiet understanding that we’re working on being a couple again.
We order plates to share—roasted duck breast with sour cherry glaze, handmade gnocchi with mushrooms and sage, seared scallops that nearly make me moan at the table.
About halfway through the meal, Aiden gets a call—some board thing—and he steps away to take it.
That’s when Huxley leans across the table, his eyes more serious than they’ve been all night. “He’s been a mess, you know. Since you left.”
My heart jerks.
“I mean, he was…hollow. Like someone put him in a suit and propped him up at the desk.”
I swallow. “I know…now. But for a while I thought….”
“Thought what?”
“That he’d move in with Diana.” I shake my head.
“Come on, Mia, you know him better than that,” he scolds gently.
“I thought I did, but then he….” I trail off.
“Kissed Diana?” Huxley finished.
“Are you going to be a cliché and say it’s just a kiss and I should get over it?” I remark dryly.
“Fuck no! A kiss is far more intimate than if he stuffed his dick inside her.”
“Christ, Hux.” I grimace. “Subtlety is not your thing.”
He laughs.
Worry assails me, and I frown. “He won’t give me details, but it looks like the board is rallying around his father.”
Hux snorts. “Only because Nelson is good at strong-arming people, and Diana’s a walking spreadsheet with no soul.”
I shake my head, amused. God, but I’ve missed Hux. “Tell me how you really feel.”
He smirks. “Look, I’ve known Aiden since he was a cocky undergrad who read economic policy papers for fun. He never fit into that family. You saw that, didn’t you?”
“But he tried, Hux.”
“I know, and you paid for it,” he says somberly. “But that was then.”
I nod slowly. “And now?”
“Now he’s starting to figure out that maybe not fitting in might be a good thing.” He takes a sip of wine. “He needs out, Mia. Winter Financial is killing him. It’s always been about proving something to his father, who is never going to love him the way he needs.”
I twist the stem of my wine glass between my fingers. “He gave me half his shares.”
“I know.” He gives me a measured look. “Nelson blew a gasket. I wish I’d been there to see it.”
My throat tightens. “How do I help him?”
He thinks about it for a moment, and his eyes light with warmth. “Tell him he doesn’t need to win. Tell him it’s okay to walk away. Take the money. Start something new. He listens to you in a way he never listens to anyone else. That’s always been your superpower with him.”
That statement lands like a surprise, but it doesn’t scare me, because in these past months, he’s made me see that they are true. I do have power over Aiden. I just never exercised it.
Aiden returns, slipping into his chair beside me. His hand finds mine under the table. “Sorry. That was Dad trying to bait me into a friendly dinner next week. I wouldn’t have taken the call, but he used Jolene’s desk phone and…fucker.”
“Are you going to go?” I ask.
His lips curve in that way that tells me hell no. “I’d rather attend a tax seminar hosted by the IRS.”
We toast to that.
When he drops me off later, he tells me how much he hates that I won’t be sleeping with him.
“It’s not the sex, you understand?”
“I do.”
He kisses me. He raises his head, his eyes filled with emotion.
“Stay the night with me.” I hadn’t planned to ask him, but when I do, it feels right.
He stares at me, surprised. “Really?”
I smile to ease his confusion. “Yes.”
I lead him into the bedroom. I give him a spare toothbrush, and while he gets ready for bed, I text Katya, warning her there’s a man in the house.
Katya: You’re both so cute!
Me: I’m cuter than him.
Katya: Of course. Goodnight. Try to keep the sex noise down, if you can.
We don’t make love, just hold each other tight.
I watch him sleep and wonder if Huxley’s right—maybe the best way to save someone isn’t to fix the broken pieces, but to give them permission to walk away from what broke them in the first place.
The next morning, Aiden joins Katya and me for breakfast. It’s easy, almost domestic—coffee mugs scattered across the table, Katya stealing the last piece of toast, Aiden pretending to be offended.
That night, he comes back. And then another night. And another. Until his jacket is draped over the back of a chair, his razor takes up a corner of the bathroom sink, and Katya is smirking over her cereal.
“At this point,” she says, pointing her spoon at him, “you should really start paying rent.”
Aiden only grins, leaning back in his chair. “What do you think, baby? Worth it?”
I roll my eyes, but my heart does that soft, dangerous thing.
His eyes become serous. “I’ll do whatever you want, Mia. You know that, don’t you?”
I blush.
“Yuck! You both make me sick with your over-the-top sweetness,” Katya groans, but we both know she’s thrilled to see us together.
“I can…ah…buy wine,” Aiden suggests.
Katya nods with solemnity, but her eyes are full of mischief. “That sounds like a good deal, Winter. I like champagne, French chardonnay, and Brunello di Montalcino.”
The next day, we find Katya’s wine fridge stocked with high-end wines from Reims, Burgundy, and Tuscany, and there are also a couple of Loire Valley reds, which he knows I favor.