Chapter 11
eleven
LUCY
Sunday. Finally. My favorite day of the week.
I genuinely love my work, but there’s something undeniably magical about Sundays. It’s the calm before the chaos and a perfect excuse to slow down and just breathe.
I usually start with a mental list of everything I need. A quick grocery run, maybe a stop at the farmers’ market for fresh blooms to brighten up the flat, and then some time in the kitchen to prep for the week ahead.
I like slipping into the grocery store before most people have even put on real pants. There’s something strangely soothing about the silence, a handbasket, and the power of choosing produce no one else has pawed at yet.
I’m lost in my own head, scanning the pile of avocados when I spot the perfect one. Just as I reach, my hand collides with another larger, calloused one.
“Oh!” I jerk back so fast I nearly fumble my basket. “Sorry, you go ahead.”
It’s the spark that shoots through me when that foreign hand brushes against mine that stops me in my tracks.
It’s quick, like a static shock, yet strong enough to send a wave of heat up my arm.
My breath catches as I glance up, and there they are—those slate gray eyes I’ve been trying not to think about, staring back at me.
Aidan’s brows lift slightly, and for a second, I catch the same flicker of surprise that’s coursing through me cross his face. What are the chances?
Well…I guess in a town this small, the odds are actually pretty decent. Still, of all the people I could have bumped into while grabbing milk and bread, it had to be him? This broody, gorgeous guy who completely rattles me?
I’m caught between wanting to say something clever and pretending I didn’t just feel that undeniable spark when his hand brushed against mine. But if I’m being honest, my brain isn’t exactly firing on all cylinders right now.
“Lucy.” My name on his lips in that deep voice leaves me momentarily breathless.
I manage to force a smile even though my heart is doing somersaults in my chest. “Hi! Fancy meeting you here.”
He quirks a brow, his gaze darting to the avocado we were reaching for, then back to me. There’s a trace of amusement in his eyes.
I laugh nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as if that could somehow calm the heat creeping up my cheeks. “Great minds, right?”
He picks up the avocado, turning it over in his hand before offering it to me. “You take it.”
Our fingers brush again as I reach for it, and it’s like my whole body is suddenly hyperaware. The touch is brief, hardly even a graze, but my skin hums like it’s been charged. “Thanks,” I say softly.
I glance around, searching for Isla to ease the tension. “Oh, hey. Where’s your shadow?”
The question slips out casually, but inside, I’m spiraling. This isn’t like me. I can chat up a stranger or banter with a grumpy regular at the café without missing a beat. Instead, I’m a puddle of nerves, all because of one infuriatingly handsome man who completely throws me off balance.
“She’s with my mum. I can’t get any actual shopping done when she’s with me.”
I wonder where Isla’s mum is. Maybe he is single?
A tiny, reckless spark flares in my chest at the thought…
then I immediately scold myself for it. For all I know he has a wife at home and he’s letting her sleep in.
Or a partner working an early shift. Or some complicated custody arrangement that is most definitely none of my business.
“I can imagine,” I say, letting the words come out light. My gaze flicks ever so quickly to his left hand. Bare. No band. No tan line. Nothing obvious.
It doesn’t prove anything, but it nudges the possibility a fraction closer.
He shifts his weight, and I can’t stop myself from noticing how his henley stretches across his broad shoulders, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal strong, tattooed forearms.
I nod, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “It’s nice you have family around to help,” I continue, realizing I’m still clutching the avocado like it’s made of gold. “Um, thanks again for this.”
He shrugs, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s just an avocado.”
“Right,” I laugh nervously. “Of course.” I drop it into my basket, searching for something else to say. “So, um, what else are you shopping for?”
He nods toward his cart. “Just the basics. Isla goes through cereal like it’s her job.”
Talking about his daughter seems to bring a gentler look to his face, and I find myself smiling. “She’s adorable. How old is she?”
“Four,” he replies with a hint of pride in his voice.
“That’s such a fun age.”
He chuckles softly, the sound warm and unexpected. “Fun, sure. Exhausting, too. She’s got more energy than I know what to do with.”
That’s the most I’ve heard him say at once. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
“You have no idea.” His eyes hold mine for a beat too long, then, as if remembering where we are, he straightens. “I should probably finish up before Isla realizes I’m gone.”
“Of course,” I say quickly. As he turns to leave, I look for something better to say. “And hey…don’t forget to grab the good cereal. You know, the kind with marshmallows.”
That was…dumb.
He pauses mid-stride, briefly turning his head with a grin. A real grin. “Noted.”
It’s a small thing, but the warmth in his smile lingers long after he walks away, leaving me standing there like a fool with an avocado and a heart that won’t stop racing.
Jeez. Pull yourself together, Lucy. He’s just a guy…albeit one with mesmerizing eyes, a voice that could melt butter, and an indisputable tenderness when it comes to his daughter.
I give my head a slight shake, as if that could dispel the haze of attraction clinging to me. There’s a shopping list to finish, but as I move through the fluorescent lit aisles, my eyes keep searching for that tall silhouette among the shelves.
This isn’t like me at all.
My last boyfriend, Owen, had pressed shirts and every single one of our dates scheduled. He worked at the bank and could tell me exactly where he’d be ten years from now. Again, safe, but never thrilling.
Nothing like the way Aidan makes me breathless, which terrifies me because that has never happened before.
As I’m turning around the corner to the dairy section, my foot catches and I almost collide with a shopping cart. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
I freeze when I see who’s behind it.
Aidan raises a brow. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“I swear I’m not following you.”
“Shame,” he murmurs, so quietly I’m not sure I heard him correctly.
“Right. Well, I’ll, uh, let you get back to your shopping.”
He gives a small nod as he pushes his cart away.
I watch him go, my feet suddenly feeling like they’re stuck in wet cement. In a rush to make my escape, I grab a carton of milk off the shelf…and promptly knock over a stack of yogurt cups. They tumble to the floor with a crash, and I stand there for a moment, horrified.
“Nice one,” I mutter to myself, crouching down to scoop up the mess. The yogurt cups are scattered everywhere. I swear, if the floor could open up and swallow me whole, I’d dive right in without hesitation.
Then I hear it.
A deep, husky laugh—Aidan’s laugh—drifts over from a few aisles away, and I freeze, my hands hovering over the mess. The sound vibrates through the air, and I realize I’ve never wanted to hear a sound more in my life.
I’m curled up on my couch later in the evening, and I’ve decided I am indeed getting a cat this week. It’ll be nice to have another living being in this house to help me redirect my thoughts.
Right now, the memory of Aidan’s touch lingers like an echo against my skin that I can’t shake. At first, I thought I’d imagined it, my mind spinning tales of what could be, but when it happened again, it sent my heart racing.
I want more than just fleeting moments, which is ridiculous. Completely irresponsible, especially when I come with fine print and future complications. I don’t need another man deciding I’m not worth the gamble because my body doesn’t cooperate with his five-year plan.
I exhale, pressing my fingertips to my temples.
Maybe it’s time to call Juliette. She has this uncanny ability to sort me out before I spiral into a full existential crisis.
And right now? I’m teetering awfully close to the edge.