13. Chapter 13
I walk across Aaron’s front lawn in a complete daze. I don’t understand what just happened, but one thing’s for sure: I never want to see Aaron Baldwin again. I walk into the house and stand against the locked door for a couple of minutes, allowing my tears to flow. But once that’s over, I walk into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. “You’re stupid,” I say to my reflection. I undress in front of the mirror, wanting to remove all traces of tonight’s events from my mind and my skin. I can still feel his hand gripping my arm. Not with tenderness or warmth or want. It was with anger. I turn the shower on and step into the icy cold water, letting it run down my body, prickling my skin, and numbing my senses, but not my heart.
Stepping out of the shower, I slip into my bathrobe and put my hair in a towel. I look at myself in the mirror again, noting that the cold water did nothing to alleviate the redness and puffiness around my eyes. After changing into pajamas, I sit on my porch swing and turn on my laptop. I send some rejection e-mails to the candidates I didn’t hire and an e-mail offering the job to Sam Jameson. If he declines the offer, I’ll offer it to my second or third pick.
Feeling accomplished, I lie in bed and try to read a book. Unable to concentrate, I look at the clock and decide to call Laura to let her know baby Jon is here. She tells me Mom already called her. She and Charles have plans to visit Katherine and the baby tomorrow.
“You sound sad,” Laura says after we talk for a few minutes.
“I am sad,” I confess. I spend the next hour telling her everything from beginning to end. I share everything about Aaron and Holly. I tell her about Lisa and my faux pas, which led to Tori telling Adam and Aaron that I like Aaron. “I am so embarrassed,” I tell her, “But mostly, I’m hurt and disappointed by Aaron’s behavior and rudeness.”
“It sounds like you have feelings for this boy,” she says.
“He’s not a boy, Laura,” I clarify, “He’s a forty-year-old man behaving like an immature jerk.”
” He’s behaving badly, you’re right, but given what’s he’s been through, he’s probably struggling with letting go of his wife. Especially her role as Holly’s mother.”
“Mom mentioned something about that today. Do you know what she was referring to?” I ask, hoping she’ll fill in the blanks.
“He and Julie had several losses before having Holly. They had two miscarriages, I believe, and a stillbirth. It was a boy. They had given up hope of ever having a family. When they got pregnant with Holly, they were afraid that it would happen again, so they didn’t tell anyone they were pregnant. They waited until she was born to even let his parents know.”
“I didn’t know any of this,” I tell her, “But I do remember when he called Adam to let him know about Holly, and Adam was shocked that they’d kept it a secret for nine months.”
“It must have been devastating to lose all those babies.” She adds.
“How did you find out?” I ask.
“Your mom accompanied me to a support group about a year ago, and afterward, we stopped for coffee. Naturally, the conversation veered into the topic of losing a child. It just came up. Aaron has a lot in common with all of us in that he’s lost children and the love of his life.”
I instantly remember what my mother shared with me about losing her childhood sweetheart. I’m surprised that Laura knows about it, too. I want to probe, but I’d rather continue talking about Aaron.
“None of this explains Aaron’s hostility towards me. I don’t understand what happened.”
“Give him some time and some space. He’ll come around. I’m sure once he thinks things through, he’ll realize he’s in the wrong, and he’ll apologize.”
Just then, the doorbell rings. “Someone’s at the door,” I tell Laura.
“That’s probably him,” she says. “Go get your apology, Sweetheart. Have a good night, and call me if you need me. Love you.”
“I love you too. Good night.” I end the call and reluctantly walk over to the door. I let him knock again. I peek out the window and confirm that it is, in fact, Aaron.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door. He looks defeated. There’s no sign of his charming dimples. He’s wearing gray sweatpants that sit low on his hips and a slightly different version of the same flimsy t-shirt he wore the other night. I wonder how many push-ups he has to do to maintain those chest muscles. “Remain strong, Loren,” I think to myself. I stand there looking at him, letting the silence between us linger. He’s looking at me, but I don’t say a word.
“I left Holly in bed,” he begins. “Would you mind walking back to the house with me so we can talk there?”
I say nothing. I grab my keys from the console table and walk out the door, locking it behind me. When I turn around, he’s right there, invading my space. My sister’s words play back in my mind, “Doesn’t he smell amazing?” Yes, yes, he does.
“Careful, Aaron. You’re invading my space,” I say without a hint of amusement.
Instead of stepping back, he leans forward and whispers, “I’m sorry.” His eyes are locked on mine. For a split second, I think he might kiss me, but instead, he reaches for my hand and leads me back to his house. He’s not holding my hand the way he holds Holly’s. Our fingers are interlaced. His warmth reaches more than just my hand; I can feel it in my heart.
We walk into the house, and he motions me to the couch, “Will you sit down, please.”
As soon as I sit down, I look down and realize I’m still in my pajamas—white satin with lace trim. I feel exposed. I self-consciously pull the hem of my shorts in an attempt to cover my legs.
Instead of sitting next to me, he pulls the ottoman close to me and sits right in front of me, our knees touching, his hands clasped together.
“Loren, I owe you an apology.”
I say nothing, but I’m sure he can see the hurt reflected in my eyes.
“My words were careless and hurtful. Please forgive me.”
I want to say something, but I’m so hurt that I know if I say anything, I’ll just start crying.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “The moment I said the words, I regretted them.”
“But you didn’t stop,” I say, my voice shaky.” You kept insulting me and wounding me with accusations I didn’t deserve.”
“You’re right,” he says, agreeing with me. “Everything you’re saying is true.”
“Can you at least tell me why?” I ask.
” It was the little nose thing you did with Holly.”
“I’m confused,” I say.
“That was something special Julie did since Holly was born. She would kiss Holly’s nose with her own. When I saw you do it, it took me back to those hundreds of moments I witnessed between my daughter and my wife. I felt like I was betraying Julie’s memory. I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”
I nod and instinctively reach for the rings around my neck, but before I touch them, he reaches over and takes my hand in his. “Do you understand?”
“I do.”
He takes my hand, and I watch as he takes it to his lips and gently kisses it.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he says, “Do you forgive me?” His dark hazel eyes are searching my face for understanding and forgiveness.
“I do,” I say, looking up at him. “Aaron, Holly is easy to love. She’s a sweet little girl with so much joy and love to share. I’m not going to apologize for loving her. Please don’t ask me to curtail my interactions with her to keep you from feeling a certain kind of way. It wouldn’t be fair to her or me.”
“You’re right,” he says, not letting go of my hand. Instead, he covers it with the other one. My hand is now safely cocooned in his hands, strong and warm. My other hand feels cold and left out.
We sit in silence for a few seconds, our eyes saying what our lips won’t. I don’t want this moment to end.
“Has anyone ever told you that it’s very easy to get lost in your eyes?”
I shake my head and smile.
“You’re so beautiful and young.”
“I’m twenty-six, Aaron. I’m not a teenager.”
“I didn’t realize your hair was this curly,” he says before reaching over and gently pulling on a strand that immediately bounces back when he releases it. He smiles briefly, and I catch a glimpse of his dimples. I expect him to return his hand back to mine, but instead, I feel the light touch of his hand on the crook of my neck, his thumb coming dangerously close to my lips. A tender and intimate move that leaves me breathless.
He never takes his gaze off of mine. His eyes are dark and full of what? Longing? I think he’s going to kiss me.
“Loren,” he says, his voice low and husky, “It’s getting late. Let me walk you home.”
The spell is suddenly broken. What just happened? He lets go of my hands and stands to his feet. I feel cold and rejected.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say as I stand and notice that my legs are weak, “I can find my own way home. Have a good night.”
I walk quickly towards the door, wanting to make a quick exit before the blush I feel traveling up my neck reaches my face.
He gets to the door before I do and opens it. I step outside, and not wanting to be rude, I turn around to say goodbye.
“Friends?” he asks.
Why does the word feel like a slap in the face?
“Yes, of course,” I say. “Friends.”
I stand awkwardly at the door, not knowing how to say goodbye. Do I wave at him? Do I shake his hand or go in for a fist pump?
He answers the question for me. He takes my arm and pulls me in for a hug. It’s an innocent, protective hug with his arms wrapped around me. I let him hold me, breathing in the scent that is so uniquely his. A scent that envelopes me with sensations I’ve never experienced before. Something I can’t identify or put into words. I close my eyes and get lost in his embrace, not wanting it to end. But it does.
So I walk away. He stands outside his door and watches me walk back to my own house. I look back when I reach my door, and he’s still standing there watching me. Once I walk inside, I shut the door and stand against it. I feel a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and excitement.
Once in my bedroom, I walk to the dresser mirror and look at my reflection. I wish I had changed clothes or, at the very least, put my robe on before leaving with Aaron. My hair has dried, and the curls I was born with are loosely resting on my shoulders, dark and full. With my fingers, I touch my neck and face, retracing the path of his warm caress. I see the rings around my neck, and I slip Justin’s ring onto my finger before closing my eyes and kissing it while trying with all my might to recall Justin’s sweet and familiar scent.
I slip into bed and rest my head on the pillow, preparing myself for a sleepless night. Soon, the exhaustion I feel in my body beats the restlessness I feel in my spirit. I surrender to sleep, knowing that tonight, for the first time in four years, I will once again dream of a happily ever after.