Chapter 30
THIRTY
“The only people worth keeping around were the ones who were always on my side. Not to say they always agreed with me, but they never walked away from me.”
—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,
Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes
The pounding woke me.
I reached blindly for my phone and groaned when I saw it wasn’t even eight. It took me a minute to remember where I was and why someone was playing a drum solo in my head. Alas, it all came rushing back like the nightmare it was:
The hotel room.
The wedding reception.
The bar.
The police.
And Abe…
Whipping my head around (and regretting it immediately), I discovered the other side of the bed was empty, but the pillow held a depression where his head had been. That part hadn’t been a nightmare at all. Except I’d been so… so vulnerable with him. I’d told him things I’d never even said aloud.
“Iris!” The pounding started again, louder and not in my head this time. “Answer the door.”
I knew that voice. Aidan. Just thinking his name made a whole lot more about last night come tumbling back. Maybe if I were quiet, he’d think I wasn’t here and go away.
“I know you’re in there.”
Or not. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the door. Without opening it, I said, “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“No.”
“Just hear me out. I want to apologize.”
“No.”
Silence.
I was not opening that door. No, I wasn’t. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to hear his name or voice or his apology. After this wedding, I didn’t want to talk to him for a long time, maybe never again.
But then, “Please.”
Of course, he had to say the one word that would make me waver, and in such a sad voice. I thunked my forehead on the door, like I was trying to knock some sense into myself.
“Iris, I’m not going away until you talk to me.”
With a sigh, I pulled the door open to a different Aidan than I expected.
He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair looked like he’d been pulling on it in frustration for the last four hours.
He had on the same clothes he was wearing last night except they were more wrinkled, and a large, orange stain marred his shirt.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I said and tried to slam the door in his face.
He stopped it with his foot. “Please.”
“Say whatever you need to say and go away.” There. That sounded very firm.
“I said some things last night, this morning, whatever…” He shoved both hands in his hair and yanked. “It was not okay. I’m sorry.”
Stoney-faced, I crossed my arms. “Sorry for what?”
A man stuck his head out from a room three or four doors down the hall. “Lady, geez. Let the man in and let the rest of us sleep.”
“Can we do this in your room?” Aidan asked.
“Whatever.” I left the door open and stalked back to the bed where I sat.
“For everything. For what I said. For hurting you.”
“It’s not just about last night, Aidan. It’s about the last three years of you sending me mixed signals. I never knew where I stood. It’s like being stuck in limbo. It’s exhausting.”
“I didn’t mean to do that.”
I didn’t say a word, just watched him steadily. The silence was uncomfortable, the truth hanging right there. And while I knew it was coming, my heart still ached.
His shoulders slumped. “Maybe I did. Not the way you think. I just didn’t want to lose you. I wanted you to be the person I needed so I could keep you in my life.”
“But I tried, Aidan. I really tried. I can’t be that for you. I never could. We were never just friends, and it wasn’t fair to expect that of me.”
He shook his head sadly. “I know.”
Awkwardness filled the silence. But inside, for the first time, that part of my heart I’d held back for him, that tiny little piece of yearning painfully lodged in my chest like a dam that refused to budge… it shifted. And with it, the ache of what could have been washed through me, and away.
I licked my lips. “I could have stopped it, too, but I kept hoping that you’d figure out you were wrong to end things and find your way back to me. That’s not what happened though. You found your person.”
He swallowed and nodded. “I know. Missy is… she’s perfect just the way she is. I don’t want to change anything about her.”
“Wow.” I gasped, feeling tears burn the back of my eyes. I would not cry in front of him. Never again. I grabbed a pillow and clutched it against my chest like a shield. “Wow. Okay, wow. But you wanted to change everything about me? Was I ever good enough?”
He groaned. “I’m screwing this up. You were too good for me, Iris.
You’re smart and funny and so nice. Truly nice, give-your-shirt-to-a-stranger kind of nice.
And not in that fake way where you make sure everyone knows how nice you are.
You’re always thinking about other people, and you don’t even realize it.
It’s part of who you are.” He thumped a hand on his chest. “I’m not like that.
My first reaction isn’t to think of others.
Why do you think I always sent pink roses?
I don’t have to think about it. It’s easy to click the same button, send the same flowers, and check that off my list.”
“That’s a jerk thing to do.”
“Yeah, I know. Missy spent the last few hours telling me the same thing.” He pulled out a chair tucked into a desk and sat with a heavy sigh. “You know, she chose pink roses for her bouquet. She thought it was our special thing.”
“You are in so much trouble.”
“She was so upset, I was scared she was going to call off the wedding. I’ve spent the last four hours begging for her to forgive me.”
“And? Did she?”
“She said she’d think about it.” He looked like a forlorn, lost puppy and I almost, almost felt sorry for him.
“Ouch.” I stood. “I think I’m really starting to like Missy.”
“You would take her side,” he muttered.
“You know, she adores you, thinks you hung the moon and stars.”
“Did you ever think that about me?” he asked.
I smiled sadly. “I thought I did. But you need someone who does. Missy gives you that. You deserve that. So do I.”
“So, what now?” he asked.
I stood up. “You get married today.”
He took a long, stilted breath and smiled widely. “Yeah, I’m getting married today.”
I punched his shoulder, maybe a little harder than necessary. “Don’t screw it up.”