15. Whiplash #2
“Do you want to leave? I could say I’m unwell.”
He sighs, dragging his hands down his face.
“No. We need to play bridge with them, or Mum will never forgive me.”
There’s that half-smile, the one that doesn’t reach his eyes, but it makes me focus on his mouth.
No, don’t do that.
“So that’s the price we pay for this delicious-looking spread?” I ask, forcing my eyes back up to his.
He nods. There’s movement in my periphery, and I put my hand on his cheek. His breath hitches, and it does something funny to my stomach.
In a whisper, close to the ear on the side away from the doorway, I tell him, “They’re watching us from inside.”
He exhales, his breath tickling the side of my face.
His hand brushes up my side and over my shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He threads his fingers through my hair and pulls me closer. I follow until my nose touches his. I breathe him in. His full lips are parted, and mine are tingling. Remembering.
But he just holds me here, and we breathe together. I can’t move. I don’t want to. It’s like I’m suspended mid-air. Floating. My whole body tingles with every breath we share.
We sit like that for what feels like a long time, but then he shifts and I want him back. But instead he leans his forehead on mine, dropping his hand from my hair. He closes his eyes. Pinches them shut.
“Linnea, I…”
I pull back. “It’s okay.”
He opens his eyes and looks at me. “What’s okay?”
“You feel bad about yesterday. I get it.” I clear my throat. “So do I, so don’t worry.”
He groans, closing his eyes again, and I don’t understand what that means.
“Alright, lovey-doveys,” Amara croons as she and Will return with plates and cutlery, interrupting this strange moment.
I can’t put my finger on what just happened, but at least Amara seems happy with what she saw. I leaned towards Aiden thinking we needed to appear more couple-y, but I didn’t expect him to be so … intense.
“Let’s dig in!” Aiden rubs his hands, suddenly back to this overblown version of himself. He continues this charade for the rest of the brunch. I eat my body weight in cheese and pastries and pass the bridge test with most of my dignity intact, but I leave feeling empty.
The ride home is tense. Aiden clutches his suede jacket on his lap, staring blankly into space.
“Aiden, what’s going on?”
He turns to me.
“Nothing new.”
I sigh.
I’m working with Venetia all week, which is good.
A much needed break from this farce, and I’ll be able to focus on her and my company.
Despite Aiden’s weirdness, he did give me a confidence boost. He showed there’s space for me to be me, and I got along well with Amara like that today.
It’s amazing to just … be. To not think too hard or worry about how someone wants me to be.
I’m more confident about being myself with Venetia in the coming week.
But Aiden and I can’t be awkward like this at the Buckingham Palace picnic in two weeks. That would be a fucking disaster.
“Can we go for lunch on the weekend?” I ask. “Just us?”
Aiden doesn’t respond, just stares out the window.
“Aiden, please.”
He turns to me again, his eyebrows raised. “Huh?”
“I don’t understand what’s going on. You’re giving me a stomach ache,” I say.
He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning, and I want to apologise, but stop myself.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Linnea,” he says, finally. “I’ve really struggled today.”
“So can we go for lunch on Sunday? We need to find some common ground before the picnic. It’ll be a big opportunity for me and I don’t want to spend it worrying about us looking fake.”
He sighs.
“Lunch sounds good. Why Sunday? Can we do sooner?”
“I’ll be in Kingston all week with Venetia,” I say, picking at the hem of my dress. The first official week.
“You’ll win her over completely,” he says, his hand moves towards mine, but he stops and puts it back in his lap. “Just do what you did today. Relax and be yourself.”
“Amara is easy to be around.”
“Venetia is pretty cool. One of those feisty, funny ladies, I almost feel sorry for Henry now that he’s on her bad side.”
I breathe out. Aiden seems more normal again.
“Thank you, Aiden. See, we just need to keep doing this,” I say, gesturing between us, “and we’ll get through this weird arrangement, both getting what we want.”
He groans again, sinking into his seat.
“Don’t stress, you won’t have to lie to your mum too much longer.”
“Yeah,” he sighs, glancing sideways at me.
“Was she yelling at you earlier, by the way? Or was that just a normal conversation?”
“In the kitchen? Oh, she was telling me off for drinking too fast. Said I should focus and stop worrying.”
“Is there more than this arrangement that bothers you?”
He turns towards the window again, grasping the jacket in his fists. “No.”
Not sure what to say, but anxious to fill the heavy silence, I say the first thing that comes to mind, talking to the seat in front of me.
“Although I’m terrible at following this advice, my grandfather always told me not to worry if I can’t do anything about it, and if I can do something, then I shouldn’t worry either, and instead just go and do it. ”
Aiden inhales sharply and I turn to him again. His steel-blue eyes are on me, that piercing stare he does sometimes. I’m stuck in it, but now it seems to lift the weight from my chest. Only a few weeks ago these eyes made me uncomfortable.
“Wise man,” Aiden whispers, and I can’t help feeling he’s saying something else.