Chapter 28 #2
I look down at my previously flour-dusted apron, now sporting a perfect cherry-red imprint of his chest. “You’re terrible,” I say, trying to sound stern despite my smile.
I manage to point toward the hallway, tears of laughter threatening at the corners of my eyes. “Bathroom. Clean towels under the sink. Try not to drip all the way there.”
He exhales through his nose, the sound a mix between a grunt and chuckle, and steps carefully around the cherry massacre splattered across my kitchen floor.
Before he disappears, he turns to Isla. “You. Do not move. No more disasters while I’m gone.”
The second Aidan vanishes down the hall, I survey the disaster zone that used to be my kitchen and shake my head, still fighting back giggles. “Well, this is quite the mess we’ve made, isn’t it?”
Isla gives a slow nod, as if she’s passing judgment on the chaos herself.
I reach behind to untie my apron strings, slipping the cherry-stained fabric over my head, pleasantly surprised to find my T-shirt and jeans completely unscathed beneath.
“Look at that,” I say, holding up the ruined apron. “My clothes survived the cherry bomb, after all.”
Isla’s eyes widen. “Whoa. It’s like magic.”
“That’s what a good apron does,” I tell her, tossing the soiled fabric into the sink to deal with later. “Now, how about we clean up this mess before your dad comes back?”
“I’ll help!” Isla volunteers, already sliding off her stool.
I grab a roll of paper towels and hand her a few sheets. “Careful not to get it on your pretty shirt.”
She nods with all the solemnity of a kid on a very important mission.
“Lucy?” she says after a moment.
“Yeah?”
She pauses mid-wipe. “Do you like my daddy?”
“I…yes, I do. He’s a good friend.”
She considers my answer before she says, “He smiles more when you’re around.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I’m not sure what to say. How do you respond to a child’s innocent observation that cuts straight to the heart of everything?
“That’s… That’s nice to hear,” I manage.
“Are you his girlfriend?” she asks, eyes bright with curiosity.
I nearly choke. “I, um—”
“Isla.” Aidan’s voice slides into the room. He’s leaning in the doorway, white T-shirt clinging to his frame, the stained flannel hanging over his arm. His eyes catch mine, and there’s amusement there, or the faintest thread of panic. It’s hard to tell.
She spots him and beams, already halfway across the kitchen. Then, mid-run, she screeches to a halt. “You have a cat!”
Before I can answer, she’s off like a shot, barreling toward the corner of the living room where Marmalade is lazily grooming her paw on the back of the chair.
The orange cat lifts her head just in time to assess the incoming hurricane and, miraculously, doesn’t bolt.
Instead, she blinks as Isla throws herself down beside her.
“Her name’s Marmalade,” I say. “I got her a few weeks ago.”
Aidan huffs a quiet laugh beside me, but his eyes are still on Isla, who’s now gently stroking Marmalade’s back as if she’s the most precious creature to ever exist.
“She’s so soft,” Isla breathes, face pressed into pale orange fur. Marmalade, to her credit, just flicks her tail and lets it happen.
“She’s got the attitude of a grumpy old librarian,” I tell her, leaning a little closer to Aidan without meaning to. “She’s good company, though. Follows me around like a shadow. Sleeps right on my chest.”
Isla seems to be lost in her own world with the cat. Then Aidan speaks.
“She asks a lot of questions. Always has. Doesn’t miss much, either. I heard what she asked you.”
I nod, swallowing. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“You don’t owe her, or me, an answer.”
“Aidan…”
“I haven’t exactly made things clear,” he admits. His voice drops, low enough that only I can hear. “I’ve been thinking about what we said on the phone. About figuring out what this is.”
I glance over at Isla, still completely absorbed with the cat, then back to him. “And?” I whisper.
His eyes hold mine. “And I want to try. I want to give this a real chance.” He hesitates, then adds, “But I need you to know, I’m scared shitless.”
I blink, not expecting the honesty or the way it latches onto something deep inside me—because I’m scared, too. “Of what?”
“Of screwing it up. Of pulling you into something messy when I don’t have all the pieces figured out yet.” He looks at me like he’s bracing for me to pull away. “For Isla.”
My chest tightens with the best kind of ache. This is the part of him he doesn’t let most people see.
“You know what I think?” I say, my voice light but steady. “I think you’re overthinking this.”
He arches an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response. “Am I?”
“Mmhmm.” I take a step closer, my fingers trailing down his arm until they find his hand. “I think you’re standing in my kitchen with cherry pie filling all over your clothes, worried about things we can figure out together.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “That simple, huh?”
“No,” I admit, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be as complicated as we’re making it.” I glance over at Isla, still entranced by Marmalade, then back to Aidan. “I like you. I absolutely adore Isla. The rest… We can work it out as we go.”
His eyes soften, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re not scared?”
“Terrified,” I whisper with a smile. “But I’d rather be terrified with you.”
Aidan doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me, and I feel it everywhere. Then, quietly, “Okay. We’re doing this, then.”
I nod, heart thudding. “Yeah. We are.”
He exhales like he’s been holding it for years. Then he lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to my knuckles.
“I’m gonna mess up,” he warns.
“Same,” I say. “Probably in spectacular fashion.”
“At least we’ve got good cleanup practice.”
A tiny giggle bubbles up from the living room, and we both turn to find Isla lying on her back now, Marmalade perched squarely on her belly. She’s talking to her in a hushed voice.
I lean my head on Aidan’s shoulder. He lets it rest there, his cheek brushing the top of my hair.
“So…” I lift my head. “What’s the policy on kissing your girlfriend in her kitchen?”
“Strongly encouraged.”
He dips his head toward mine, just enough to keep it subtle. If we’re quick and quiet, we might just get away with it.
His lips brush mine, soft and tasting faintly of cherry, when—
“Daddy!”
We spring apart like guilty teenagers caught in the back row of a movie theater.
Isla is sitting upright now, Marmalade still sprawled lazily across her lap. She points an accusatory finger, eyes wide with scandalized delight. “You were kissing!”
Aidan clears his throat and straightens up. “Just a little one.”
Isla sighs. “Ugh, grown-ups. Next time you should tell me first.”
He raises a brow. “Tell you?”
“So I can close my eyes,” she huffs before I hear her mutter, “grown-ups.”
Aidan’s hand finds mine again, his thumb stroking along my knuckles.
I lean in and whisper, “Sorry about that. Guess we’ll have to work on our stealth.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “I just need to talk to her about what this means.”
“You think she’ll be okay?”
He nods, squeezing my hand. “I think she’ll be more than okay.”