Chapter 12
12
Lis
M y head is a splitting, fuzzy mess. I cover my eyes to keep the bright sunlight from killing me, as I feel around for my phone. Why? Why did I do this to myself? Why did I drink so much? After rummaging through my sheets and blankets, I finally find my phone stuck to the back of my thigh—Jesus. I peel it off and swipe the screen awake squinting to check the time. Thank God, it’s only ten o’clock. I close my eyes as gently as I can, not wanting to face the world yet.
I know Aidan brought me home and Gracyn helped him tuck me into bed, with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. Probably, I should feel worse than I do, but I pull my duvet up and snuggle in to sleep this misery away. I’m never drinking again. Who doesn’t think that at a time like this? Just as I’m drifting off to sleep, my phone buzzes with a text.
A: I’ll be there in an hour.
L: Why would you do that?
A: This was your idea.
L: OK. What was?
A: Our picnic at the mansion. I’ll bring the food. Drink your water and hop in the shower. You’ll feel better.
L: I doubt it.
Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed and have to sit right back down. Good God, just how much did I drink last night? Way too much. I take a couple sips of water and wait for my stomach to accept or reject what I’m putting in it. Somewhat satisfied that the water is not going to make a reappearance, I shuffle to the bathroom. I start the shower before even chancing a look at the mess in the mirror. Mhmmm—ratty auburn hair, raccoon eyes.
I strip out of my clothes and step into the steam, letting the hot water wash over me. My body shudders, actually shudders, in appreciation and I find a small bit of hope that I’ll live and not resent the hell out of life today. I stay in the shower far longer than strictly necessary and come out feeling pretty close to human. Not human enough that I deal with blow drying my hair. Instead I lazily twist it into a loose braid, where it leaves a wet spot as it lies on my tank top. I swipe on a little mascara and brush my teeth twice.
Absently, I glance at my phone to check the time, and grab my sandals and the biggest, darkest pair of sunglasses I can find.
“Gracyn?” The sound of my knuckles against the wood sends a fresh flash of pain through my skull.
“Yeah? You feeling okay?” she rasps, her voice laced with either tears or sleep.
I scoff at her question as I crack her door open, holding up her sunglasses. “Not great, can I borrow these?” She is exactly where I want to be—in bed—in the dark, not headed out into the world with a hangover. “How am I going to do this? I don’t know that I’m gonna make it today.” My eyes close and I lean my head against the doorframe—the cool wood offering a touch of relief to my aching head.
“Lissy, you’ll be fine. Go get another glass of water. You drank the one he left you last night, right?” This conversation is usually the other way around. Me taking care of her. I know the routine, I just don’t want to move. “Go drink another, take something for your headache and pray he brings you something good to eat.”
My feet make their way to the kitchen even though my head is still wishing it was soaking in the cool, smooth wood. In the kitchen, I move to fill a water bottle and take some ibuprofen. My phone buzzes just as I’m tipping the little brown pills into my hand. Of course, it makes me jump, spilling the perfectly round painkillers across the counter with each of them bobbling and tinkling as they spin around.
I lean my forehead on the cabinet in front of me and answer. “Hello?”
His voice is soft. “I’m here. Are you ready to go, or do you need a minute yet?”
“I’m ready. I…” I sigh and gather up the pills I dropped, popping a few of them in my mouth. “I just need to clean up my spill. Do I need to grab anything?” I swallow the pills just as they start to dissolve on my tongue with that acidic burn.
“Erm, yeah, actually. I forgot to grab a blanket. Do you have one we can use?” Bless him, his voice is still soft and low.
“I’ll find something and be right out.” I check my closet and grab the flat sheet from my extra set. It’s just going to have to be good enough. “Bye, Gracyn. Thanks.” There’s no response, she’s probably fallen back to sleep.
Sunglasses. Water bottle. Sheet. Keys. Deep, bracing breath and I head out to see Aidan leaning against the passenger side of his car. He looks at me with just a touch of pity and a beautiful smile.
“Good morning, love,” he murmurs as he leans in and presses his lips to my cheek right by my ear. “You look beautiful. Let me take this.” He puts the sheet in the back seat of his car and opens the passenger door for me.
Aidan’s quiet while we walk toward the back side of the historic mansion. I’ve toured it tons of times and while the mansion is beautiful, the grounds are unreal. This place was built as a summer home for a railroad tycoon during the Golden Age with servants’ quarters, a carriage house, and formal gardens. It’s magical. My happy place.
In dire need of a little shade, I steer him toward my favorite spot. It’s a little niche tucked into some trees—perfect for a hammock and a good book. Sadly, I’m pretty sure the park service would frown on my efforts if I tried to put one up. Instead, I spread the sheet out where the grass is soft and fewer people are around to spoil the peacefulness. And it’s idyllic back here. Really perfect.
“This is lovely.” Aidan squints toward the sun. “We’ll be good here? I’ve Irish skin, yeah? I don’t want to burn and freckle…” He turns his smirk to me and chuckles softly.
Now, I totally want to see his cheeks turn red. And I can’t help but stare at the fine smattering of freckles high on his cheekbones and across the bridge of his nose. “No, I think your delicate complexion will be fine.” I’m starting to feel a little icky again. “Can we eat? I think I have a bad case of…” I scrunch up my nose and shake my head a little reaching for my water bottle. I really should have known better.
Aidan sets the bag on the grass and pulls me down to the middle of the sheet. “Lisbeth, don’t try out-drinking Jimmy again. Love, he’s Irish…” God, I was an idiot to think I could hang with him. “And he’s years of experience on you.”
I groan as Aidan unpacks sandwiches and fruit, knowing I need to eat, but the lurch in my stomach from the leftover alcohol is a lot to handle right now. I grab my water and let the cool liquid roll down my throat, saying a silent prayer. “You learned your lesson, then? No more showing off—trying to prove yourself?”
I mumble a quiet no as he unwraps my sandwich and hands it to me. God, it’s perfect. Aidan’s amazing. He keeps doing these little things, taking care of me. Making sure I have what I need.
“What? Why are you laughing at me?” Food finally sounds like a good idea to me. He can laugh all he wants, this is the stuff that love is made of.
“Lisbeth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so thoroughly enjoy a fuckin’ turkey sandwich. You’ve hearts in your eyes.”