Chapter 23 Iris
IRIS
Aidan doesn’t mention the kiss at dinner. He doesn’t bring up that word I used—Daddy—or the way he looked at me like he’d burn the world down to hear me call him that.
Instead, he asks for my thoughts about the lighthouse.
It’s not hard to talk about that, not with the way my brain lit up with possibility when we stepped into the unusual space.
Over a pepperoni pizza at The Salty Slice, I talk him through my ideas for how to best utilize the lighthouse; how it could become a visitor center containing a history of the area and the best views in town, or how freaking amazing it would be as a private residence.
I know it needs insulating and other services, but once complete, it would be a unique place to live, full of character.
A place I can imagine an artist living, surrounded by natural beauty and inspiration.
Time passes quickly as we talk. It’s fun to imagine how the lighthouse could be re-purposed, but more than that, I’m touched by the way Aidan listens, really listens, as I speak. Like my ideas actually matter to him.
After dinner, we’re off to our second meeting, which takes place in the town hall.
There are far more people than I’d expected, including a handful of locals with very strong opinions, and apparently nothing better to do on a Saturday night.
It drags on for two and a half hours, and by the time we’re finally stepping out into the pitch-black night, I’m exhausted.
“Fuck, that took forever,” Aidan mutters, pulling the collar of his wool coat up against the elements.
He hovers in the doorway of the town hall, brow furrowing at the sheets of snow sweeping sideways across the road.
In the time it took for us to address every concern about the lighthouse from the residents of Wetherly Cove, the weather changed from bad to worse.
The cold creeps under my coat with icy fingers, and I shiver.
“Come on.” Aidan’s hand slides into mine as we step out into the snow, heading for his car. We’ve never held hands before, but it feels so natural, the way he’s careful to make sure I get there safely.
We climb into the car, and he turns the engine on, warming the interior. It only takes a moment for the seat warmer to heat, and I let out a soft hum of gratitude as my butt gets toasty.
Aidan peers through the windshield, expression grim. “I was hoping we could head back to the city, but it’s not worth risking it.” He glances at me. “Good thing the motel is only a couple blocks away.”
Oh.
Shit.
The motel.
My heart lurches, and I drop my gaze, wincing.
I knew I’d forgotten something. Aidan asked me to book the motel yesterday, and I meant to, but then the drafting table arrived and I had to help him bring it up the stairs, and then there was that moment in his office where I thought he might kiss me, and…
Fuck. Fuckity-fuck. Fuck.
It doesn’t matter why I didn’t do it. I was supposed to, and now we’re stranded. We’re stranded in this tiny town, in the middle of a blizzard, with nowhere to go.
I’m taking too long to answer, and Aidan’s gaze lands heavily on the side of my face. “You did book the motel, right?”
I try to take a deep breath, but the air doesn’t quite reach my lungs. And when I force my gaze to his, my freezing palms somehow turn clammy.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, voice coming out weird and trembly. “I… I forgot.”
His brows dart together. “What?”
Shit. Here it comes. All the nice moments we’ve shared today, ruined in an instant because of my stupidity.
“I-I meant to,” I stutter, wringing my hands. “But the drafting table arrived, and I got distracted. It—” I try to gulp in another breath. “It totally slipped my mind.”
His brow furrows even deeper, and tears spring unexpectedly to my eyes. I press them closed in shame, wishing I could curl into a ball and disappear.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, bracing for the lecture, the yelling. All the reasons I’m such a fuck-up who always lets everyone down.
But it doesn’t come. Instead, Aidan leans across the center console and pulls me into his arms.
“Hey,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”
I don’t know if it’s his proximity or the kindness in his voice, but I suck in a ragged breath as a tear escapes. He draws back to look at me, thumb brushing the tear away, gaze tender as it catches mine in the dim interior light of the car.
“You’re not angry?” I whisper.
“No,” he says, without hesitating. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering. “You’re allowed to make mistakes, Iris.”
I sniffle, trying to make sense of this. I fucked up royally, and he’s not angry. He’s kind and understanding, and God, it makes me want to climb into his lap and kiss him until we can’t breathe.
“But we do need to find somewhere to sleep,” he adds, stroking my cheek again before letting his hand drop. He turns back in his seat, thinking. “Let’s go to the motel anyway, and hope they have something left.”
I nod, pulling on my seatbelt. My heart batters my ribcage as Aidan crawls along the snowy road, barely able to see ten feet ahead.
There’s no way we can drive to the city in this.
I cross my fingers and toes, praying the motel has a room.
I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to. Anything so Aidan doesn’t stop looking at me like that.
The motel parking lot is packed when we arrive, and my stomach falls. We grab our overnight bags and make a beeline for the entrance, brushing snow off our coats as we bustle into the warmth of the small reception office.
“Really coming down out there, huh?” the woman at reception says, smiling as we approach.
I square my shoulders, deciding to take charge. After all, I’m the reason we’re in this mess. I step forward with an air of confidence I don’t feel.
“We’d like two rooms, please,” I say, hoping the authority in my voice will somehow save the situation.
But the woman’s brow creases. “Do you have a reservation?”
Dammit.
“No,” I admit, and she shakes her head.
“We’re full, I’m afraid.” She motions to the window. “What with the weather, and all.”
Fuck. We’re screwed.
I glance at Aidan in panic, pulse plummeting. We’ll freeze to death in his fancy car on the side of the highway, all because I couldn’t do my damn job.
He senses my spiraling thoughts, placing a reassuring hand on my lower back as he steps forward. “Are you sure there’s nothing?” he asks calmly. “We’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
The woman glances at her screen again. “Actually… hang on. There might be one room left. A cancellation came through an hour ago.” She clicks around for a moment, then nods. “Yep, we’ve got one.”
Relief floods through me, and I sag against the counter. “Oh, thank God,” I mutter.
“It’s only a double, I’m afraid,” she adds. “Hope you don’t mind sharing.”
My relief is short-lived as Aidan’s eyes whip to mine, flickering with hesitation.
“I’ll take the floor,” I blurt, and he frowns. I can’t tell if it’s in disagreement or offense.
He turns to the woman, holding out his credit card. “We’ll take it. Thanks.”
Then we grab our key, making our way to the room. The room itself is pleasant enough, with cream walls, cute bedside lamps with rope details, and a plethora of nautical-themed pillows on the double bed.
The bed I won’t be sleeping in.
Crap. I should have asked the receptionist if she had any extra blankets.
I drop my bag on the chair by the sliding glass door that, I can only assume, opens to the beach. All I can see is blackness beyond the glass, but when I strain my ears, I can make out the muffled roar of waves beneath the wind, and the faint hint of salt clings to the air.
“You’re not taking the floor,” Aidan says, moving my bag to the bed. “I’ll take the floor.”
“No way.” My hands go to my hips. I see he’s brought the Mariner’s Daughter bag in too, which we also need to address. “This whole thing is my mistake, so I’ll take the floor.”
“Forget it. I’ll sleep in the snow before I let you take the floor, Cupcake.”
I snort. “Go on, then.”
He glances at the inky blackness beyond the sliding door and grimaces. I laugh.
“Come on. Let’s just share the bed, okay?”
But his brow creases even more, and hurt seeps through me. Is he that turned off by the thought of sleeping next to me?
“I’m not sure if…” He swallows thickly. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
Oh.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, pretending I’m unaffected by what he’s implying. “I’m sure we can be… sensible.”
He gives me a long look. One that says he’s not so sure. It sends a delicious shiver through me.
“Here.” I tug the comforter down and grab three pillows, creating a sort of pillow wall down the center of the bed. “See? Completely safe.”
Aidan regards me with amusement. “You really think that’s enough to stop me?”
My brows pop up. Is he flirting? A thrill rushes down my spine, and I give him a wry smile.
“If you’re that insistent, I won’t put up a fight.”
Heat flares in his gaze. He stares at me for a beat, then swipes his bag off the chair, heading into the bathroom to change.
I breathe out hard when he’s gone, turning to root around in my bag for my PJs and toiletries.
I cringe as I pull out my pajamas, a matching set of pants and a long-sleeved top, baby-blue and printed with tiny flowers.
They’re soft and well-worn after years of being washed, and not something I’d ever wear in front of a man I’m attracted to. But I don’t have a choice, do I?
Aidan steps from the bathroom, avoiding my gaze as he sets his overnight bag back on the chair.
I get a hint of mint as he passes, but that’s not what’s caught my attention.
It’s how different he looks in his pajamas—red and black plaid flannel bottoms, with a black Henley on top.
His hair is mussed from changing, and I can’t stop staring at the loose waves, itching to run my hands through them.
He looks good in a suit, styled and polished, but this is something else. This is soft and sleepy Aidan.
And he’s perfect.
I wrench my gaze away, stepping into the bathroom to change.
As I hesitate to remove my makeup, I realize I’m being ridiculous because he’s seen me looking far worse.
He’s seen me in a bar, with mascara tracks down my cheeks, stuffing cupcakes into my mouth.
He’s seen me in a towel after a day of crying, face puffy and makeup-free.
He’s seen me at my absolute rock bottom, and he hasn’t looked away.
And that realization makes me pause.
I want so badly to do the same for him. For the first time since I climbed into his car this morning, I have a moment to breathe, and I think back to our conversation on the drive out here.
Since then I’ve felt a shift, and I’m seeing him in a different light.
He’s no longer only my boss, the guy trying to become partner at my father’s firm.
Now, he’s the guy haunted by the shadow of his father’s legacy, the guy who learned that success comes at a price.
The guy who doesn’t believe he can have both the career he wants, and love too.
That’s what he was saying, right? I knew that if I wanted success like my father’s, it required sacrifice. He was talking about his father choosing work above his mom, about her leaving.
And when I think about the way he stepped in to take care of his younger sister… God, I had no idea. No wonder he gets protective with me, like when Dad is harsh at work, or with Savannah in that boutique. He can’t stand to see someone he cares about being beaten down by the world.
Because he does care about me, doesn’t he? That’s why he kissed me in that shop today. Why he didn’t get angry about me forgetting to book the motel. Why he pulled me close instead of turning away.
And fuck, the way his eyes burned when I said the word Daddy…
Heat spirals through me as I replay it. He wants this as badly as I do, and I know he wants more than sex.
He said he was worried about me being young, that I work for him, and now I understand why he wants to make partner, but more than any of that, I think he’s scared.
Scared to let someone in, in case it costs him everything.
Maybe that should make me step back, but I can’t.
It makes me want to prove him wrong. To show him that he can have both.
With me.
As I change into my PJs, I think about what Violet said the other night, that I need to fight for him. How Daisy said not to give up.
They’re right.
I want Aidan, and it’s about damn time I showed him.