Chapter Twelve #2
Laughing at his cheek, I ascend the spiral stairs, passing a huge mezzanine bedroom, and open the heavy steel door at the top.
The fact that he keeps this unlocked is testament to the building’s security being on point.
As soon as I step out onto the roof, I see what he means about the view.
It’s amazing up here. I can see across the city in all directions.
It’s like this place is smack in the heart of it all.
I turn around to face the Vale and the four towering sentinels there.
Ivy, Laurel, Myrtle and, to the west, with the slowly dying sun reflected off its uppermost floors, is Olive Tower.
Like a beacon, it draws my gaze. My eyes zero in on our floor, on the living room balcony and the certainty that Eric Feelan is in there, propped in his recliner as usual.
I wonder if it’s quieter now. He preferred us silent but is it colder there now that he’s all alone?
Does he miss the kids? Regret his bullshit?
Or is he revelling in the nightmare he’s forced us all into?
I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to waste my time.
I enter the beautiful, mint-coloured greenhouse and stumble back when the place comes alive under a thousand bulbs hanging from string lights across the ceiling.
They’re like stars in a glass sky. The light shimmers and refracts across each pane to dance like rainbows across the grey stone floor.
Herbs, fruit, leafy greens—flowers—he grows it all here. It’s wild and unkempt but flourishing.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Aiden asks from behind me, his hand on the light switch.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Dax wanted to demolish the building, but this right here—the view and the plants—sold it for me. I parted with all my savings just to stop him from wiping out his past in a fit of rage and grief. Now it’s mine. It’s my future, our future, if you’ll have me.”
I turn to face him. The mood is heavy, and I see he regrets that as soon as he sees my face. I’m not scared of what he’s offering. I’m scared I’m not good enough to accept it. Do I deserve it? I stumbled into his life and have been a constant occupation. Why does he even want me?
“Okay. Too heavy.” He tries to laugh, but I raise my hand to stop him retreating.
“It’s not that. If I weren’t in this situation, my immediate response would be yes. Yes, I’ll share a future with you. Yes, I’ll share your goals and dreams like I know you’ll share mine…”
“But things are just too wide open right now?” he says, but he’s asking too.
“I can’t offer you a future I don’t know I have,” I admit, “but I can offer you tonight, and tomorrow, and every day I get after that. If it’ll do for now?”
Aiden’s eyes sparkle as he bobs his head in agreement. “It’ll more than do.” He steps forward and presses his lips to mine before pulling away with a mock frustration at my empty hands. “Tomatoes, Tiger.”
I chuckle and fetch as many of the luscious little cherry tomatoes as I can find, holding them in my rolled-up shirt. I snatch a couple of basil leaves too and hightail it after Aiden.
For the next forty minutes, we busy ourselves with making pasta.
Dancing around each other to fetch and carry, stir, and taste.
It feels alien and comfortable all at once.
When we’re done, we take our meals upstairs and onto the roof, where Aiden must have set the table before following me into the greenhouse earlier.
A steady pocket of heat and comfort surrounds us thanks to a gas heater, and the twinkle of fairy lights becomes a Gaussian glow backdrop to our conversation.
While the sun at its lowest point, bathes the sky in rich dusky oranges and dark pinks and night falls like a blanket over the top.
As darkness settles beyond our rooftop, Aiden slides his chair closer to mine, and we eat in companionable silence until night falls supreme.
“Thank you.” I whisper, reaching for his hand.
“For?”
I squeeze his fingers between mine. “For all of it. For everything leading up to today. For always keeping me safe and grounded. For calling Dax out when I couldn’t.
” His behaviour stung a little more than it should.
Having Aiden at my back today was a perfect example of having him share the burden and trusting him to carry that weight beside me. Just like we talked about.
“He was being an arse today, and he knows it. None of that was about you.”
“I felt it, the disconnect. He is running on guilt and not just over Sylvie, but over Celeste.” Logical reactions, for someone who puts everything on his shoulders. I should know; I do it too.
“Yeah. Give him some time,” Aiden defends, trying to smooth things between Dax and me.
“I don’t want to talk about him. I’m thanking you. Dinner was delicious. I’m glad one of us can cook worth a damn, and this—” I gesture to the rooftop and the surrounding view, “is just what I needed.”
“What we both needed.”
“I bet.” Honestly, I can’t even imagine how Aiden’s job impacts his life. Exhaustion, anxiety, fear, frustration, anger; how often do they overwhelm him? How often does it all overshadow the hope that he can win this war?
Aiden kisses the back of my hand, then unlinks his fingers and sits up straight.
“I have one more surprise for you. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but I think it might help put your mind at rest.” His voice is quiet; I can sense his hesitation and recognise he’s offering me something he’s not sure he should.
“What?”
“I’ve had a report on your family,” he begins.
I rocket forward in my seat, panic gripping my throat until he rushes out his next sentence to calm me.
“They’re doing well. The kids are booked for therapy twice a week.
Carlo has started working as a manager at the local bar, and your mother works with him when she’s not with the kids. ”
My relief is physical. My shoulders sink and my lungs release the air they were holding hostage. “Are they happy?” I ask, knowing the answer will be bittersweet.
“They’re getting there. They miss you, but they’re settling in,” Aiden replies, clearly sensitive to my fears.
“Good. I’m glad they’re okay.” My response it automatic and lacks feeling. Something that surprises me because I sincerely think I mean it until I say it aloud and hear my own lie.
Aiden notices too. “Are you?”
I analyse the feeling. I’m glad they are safe, the kids more than anything else, but I have very little care for Mum or Carlo.
Okay though? Do I want them to be okay without me?
I’m selfish enough to admit I don’t. I want them to miss me.
I want the kids to give them a hard time.
I want them to ask for me all the time as if I’m their mother, as though they need me more than they’ll ever need them.
Because I was always there. I was the parent they knew and relied on.
Why should they get to play happy families when I’m the one who suffered and did all the work?
I take a deep breath. Why do things have to be so mixed up all the time?
Why are feelings so damn complicated? I bring myself back to Aiden’s question.
Am I glad they’re okay? I answer honestly. “No, but I will be.”
“It must be hard not seeing them. The kids, I mean.”
“You have no idea. I practically raised them between school and work. Some days I had to take them to class with me. Those days were the easiest. I knew where they were; I knew they were looked after, fed, clean, safe. I never once cared about the looks I’d get for trailing two toddlers and a baby around with me.
As long as they were happy, it didn’t matter.
” I take a deep and shaky breath. “They took my everything with them when they left. I should be happy that they’re safe and protected with Carlo, but my heart is torn in two.
” I choke the last word out around the lump forming in my throat.
I don’t want to cry, but I can’t seem to help it.
“You’ve been an amazing sister and an amazing parent to those three kids.
I could see it from the second I met them and watched you with them.
The fact that they survived that house and everything Eric has done is testament to your hard work and protection.
You shouldn’t regret any of it. Just think of this as getting a little you-time to straighten all the shit out before you return to them.
They’ll be there waiting for you for as long as you need.
I hiccup another sob and give up trying to say thank you again, nodding instead. He’s right. I’m no good to my family or anyone with a target on my back.
The air chills around us, and I pull the woollen blanket draped over the back of my chair around my shoulders.
“We should head back inside,” Aiden suggests, catching my shiver.
“We don’t have to rush.”
“How about I take the dishes downstairs and load up the dishwasher? You take as much time as you need. I’ll come back up for you if you’re not down by the time I’m done. Sound good?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Aiden.”
“You’re welcome, Tiger.”
He piles the plates high and clears the table in one pass, leaving me to my thoughts.
We both know he’s giving me the space I needed to cry or straighten out my head.
Only with everything we’ve just said, I’m all cried out.
Sure, I have worries coming out of my ears and will for a while yet, Dax’s recent coldness being a part of that no matter how logically I dismissed it earlier, but for now I feel secure.
On steady ground. Ironic then that I’m sat on the edge of a roof overlooking the fall.
I think of my grandmother and her smile as she would dust off my knees and explain to me, “It’s okay to fall. It’s how you get back up that matters.”
I think of all the ways I’m already in freefall and wonder if it will hurt when I eventually land. Fear, loss, isolation…love.
I’ve felt all those other things before.
I’ve crashed-landed and stood up over and over again, but I’ve never allowed myself to feel anything more than wary respect for anyone outside of those three kids.
These newly blossoming feelings for Dax and Aiden scare me more than all the crap I’ve been through.
After all, how do you come back from love?
How do you pick yourself up after losing your heart?
Funny, I’m trying not to give into it fully, and yet I’m sure that love is the fall that will hurt the most.