Aaron: Casanova Club #7

by Ali Parker

“My lips are sealed.”

  Phillip sighed on the other end. “I’m glad he’s home. And Dad is happy too. Mom is making a pot of tea right now, and they’re already talking about when they can open the restaurant back up.”

  “Don’t tell me that shit. I can’t deal with that right now.”

  Aaron squirted some lime into the guacamole and watched me. I waved him off.

  Phillip chuckled. “Well, you’ll be dealing with it when you’re home at the end of the month. You’re going to come visit this time, right? I know Dad really wants to see you. He didn’t get a chance to talk to you when you were here.”

  “I’ll visit. I promise.”

  “Good.”

  Aaron gave the guacamole a final stir and put some on a spoon for me to try. I gave him a thumbs-up before returning my attention to my call with Phillip. “How are you doing, little brother?”

  Phillip didn’t answer me right away. When he did speak, his words were chosen carefully, and he spoke slowly. “I’m all right. It’s been a rough month. I won’t lie. I need a break.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I’m sorry, Phillip. I wish I could hang back and give you some real days off. You must be going crazy.”

  “It’s not easy. And every week gets harder with the bills piling up.”

  “Piling up?”

  “We’ll talk about it when you get home. But I came across some more late payments that we didn’t know about, Pipes. It’s not good.”

  My stomach rolled over. “Shit.”

  “I know this is a bad way to end the call, but try not to stress too much, Piper. You’re doing your part of the job to make things better. And I’m doing mine, holding down the fort until you bring home the bacon. That’s still the plan, right?”

  I swallowed and stole a glance at Aaron as he poured a bunch of tortilla chips into a glass bowl. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s still the plan.”

  “Good. Because we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

  “Yeah,” I said absently as guilt coiled around my insides like a vise grip.

  “I’m sorry you have to do that for us, Piper.”

  “Do what?”

  “Throw away something great. Or someone great. Someone like Aaron.”

  “I—”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Phillip said, bulldozing me. “I know he’s probably with you right now. But I have to say. He’s a good one, Pipes. Take it easy on him this week, will you? We owe him.”

  “Owe him?”

  “Uh, yeah,” my brother stammered. “For the room for Dad. And for helping you get out here and taking care of you the way he is. He’s a good guy.”

  I smiled as Aaron brought our collection of snacks into the living room, where we were about to spend another evening cuddled up on the couch watching movies. “He definitely is. And I will, Phillip. I’ll see you in a week.”

  “See you in a week, Pipes.”

  I got off the phone, slid off my stool, and joined Aaron in the living room as he surfed through movies we could rent.

  I dropped down onto the couch and threw my legs up on his lap. “Would you rather just sit and talk and drink wine instead of watching the movie?”

  Aaron rested his hand on my ankles. “I won’t say no to some quality time. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before you’re gone and I’m in this empty apartment all by myself.”

  That hurt my heart to hear. I didn’t like thinking of my sweet Aaron being all by himself again like he used to—and working for that no-good publisher agent lady of his who seemed to have no appreciation for his talent.

  “I wish I could stay,” I whispered.

  He ran his hand up my shin. “I know. I wish you could too. But that’s not fair of me to ask.”

  I drew my bottom lip into my mouth and pinched it hard between my teeth as if punishing myself for the pain I knew I was going to cause him in a week’s time. “I’m really going to miss you.”

  “Piper James, you have no idea how much I’ll miss you once you’re gone. Nothing is going to be the same.” He offered me a sweet smile and took my hand to lift it to his lips, where he pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. “You changed everything. Me included. And I apologize for all the clichés that just came out of my mouth.”

  My giggle hid the sadness rising up in me. “Do better, writer boy. No clichés allowed.”

  He chuckled. “I think I’m mostly going to miss someone who talks back. I think I got a little too comfortable with one-sided conversations with my fictional characters.”

  I snickered as I pictured Aaron sitting at home in a bathrobe, talking to his imaginary friends. “At least you can stop them from saying stupid shit.”

  “You’d think,” he said, shaking his head. “But that’s not always the case.”

  I soaked in the line of his jaw, his smile, his warm eyes, his sharp nose. I studied the shadows his glasses cast on his cheeks and the stubble on his throat that seemed to grow lower down the longer he left it. I wanted to remember everything about him before I left. His voice, his smell, his presence. All of it.

  If only a photo could capture the essence of a person. Then I’d be able to carry him with me wherever I went, and if I ever needed comfort, there he’d be.

  Well, there his essence would be.

  I sighed and shimmied closer to him. “You’ll send me a signed copy of your new book when you publish?”

  “The first copy is yours. No exceptions. Am I expected to sign from Aaron Morris or from Writer Boy?”

  With a devious smile, I asked, “Which do you think?”

  “Writer Boy, it is.”

  Giggling, I rolled myself into his lap and rested my hands on his shoulders. “Thank you for everything, Aaron. Let’s make this week special. Let’s soak in all the time we have left together and make the most of it. Movies and dinners and late nights. What do you say?”

  “How could a man ever refuse a proposal like that?”

  I leaned in for a kiss as he ran his hands up my thighs to rest them on my waist. There wasn’t sexual tension here. Not right now. Instead, there was a heavy sense of sadness lingering around us.

  Leaving him was going to hurt.

  I told myself I was getting used to hurt. At this point, I was almost a pro at walking away from men I loved and leaving them in my rearview mirror.

  But there was something more vulnerable about Aaron that made me feel ten times worse about it this go around. He was softer, gentler, and more sensitive—in the best kind of way. My leaving was going to affect him more than it affected the others.

  At least, I assumed it was going to.

  And in my absence, I feared he would regress into old habits and spend all his time alone.

  I cupped his cheeks in my hand and stroked his short beard. “You were right when you said everything has changed.”

  Aaron tucked my hair behind my ear. His eyes slid to lock onto mine. “I know,” he whispered.

  Chapter 24

  Aaron

  Waking up in the morning had never been as miserable as it was that Saturday.

  My last day with Piper was upon me.

  And it wasn’t even a full day. I had two hours with her before the limo showed up to drive her back to New York City, and then I only had a few days to grieve losing her before I had to go on tour for my most recently published book.

  How I was going to get through it, I had no idea.

  But I had a contract, and there was no bowing out of it. Marcy would have my head. Not only that, but I wouldn’t be that person. There were people who’d purchased tickets who were expecting to see me, and I refused to let them down to wallow in my own self-pity.

  Maybe it would be the perfect distraction from my heartache.

  I was on the phone with Marcy that morning while Piper showered and finished packing her bag.

  “You’re going to what?” Marcy asked sharply.

  I took off my glasses and set them down on my desk before pushing back in
my chair and pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m going to self-publish.”

  “That hardly seems like a practical approach, Aaron. You’re a bestseller. Why on earth do you feel the need to publish this little fantasy book independently?”

  “For starters, it’s not a little fantasy book. This is going to be something whether you believe it or not. And I’d rather get it into the hands of my readers than throw in the towel because one person who hates the genre told me they wouldn’t represent it.”

  Marcy huffed into the phone. “Fine. I can’t stop you.”

  “No. You can’t.”

  “We can talk more about it on your tour.”

  “I don’t care to talk about it. We’re on different pages. That’s all right. This book isn’t your concern.”

  “I represent you.”

  “No, you represent my romance platform. You’ve made it perfectly clear that’s all you’re interested in. And I get it. That’s where the money is. But I’m done with that.”

  “Done?”

  “Done,” I confirmed. “The book I’m sending to you next week is my final project. Then I’m taking a break from romance and diving into other works. I need to stir things up. I’ve gotten stuck. And I’ve just recently had that shown to me, and I don’t want to be that guy who writes the easy shit. I want to write the stories that I’m burning to tell.”

  “Writers,” Marcy moaned.

  If I didn’t have this book tour planned and mapped out with Marcy, I’d be firing her on this call. But that could wait until after we got back home and things settled down.

  She’d brought it upon herself.

  Piper came out of her bedroom and stopped short when she saw me on the phone.

  I offered her a weak smile. “I have to go, Marcy. We’ll talk later.”

  “Aaron, we haven’t gone over—”

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow. I have something important to do today.”

  I hung up the phone as Marcy continued protesting on the other end. Then I stood up and went to Piper. She tilted her head to look up at me as I rested a hand on her hip and stroked her cheek.

  “Are you all packed?”

  She nodded and leaned into my touch. “Yes.”

  “How much time do you have?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I know,” she whispered, dropping her head and looking at her feet. “I hate this part.”

  I kept forgetting she’d done these farewells several times over already with other men. That stung. A lot. It was like hornets were buzzing around my heart and jabbing me with their stingers.

  The little fuckers.

  “It’ll be all right. Look on the bright side. You get to see your dad. Maybe you two can clear the air before you…” I trailed off.

  Piper looked up at me again. “Before?”

  I swallowed. “Before you move on to spend July with the next bachelor.”

  She blushed. “Right.”

  “Hey.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s all right.”

  Piper’s eyes grew glassy.

  I stroked her cheek. “It’s all right, Piper. You don’t owe me anything. Hell, you don’t owe any of us anything. This is about you. I’m just grateful I was able to steal a slice of your year, and if that’s all I get, well, I’ve made peace with that.”

  “Aaron, I—”

  “Please. Don’t.”

  Her bottom lip trembled, and she looked down at her feet.

  The last thing I wanted was for her to offer me false assurances in our final minutes together. I knew—just like I’d known all month—that when it all came down to it, I would not be the man Piper would choose. It simply wasn’t in the cards for me.

  It was for one of the other bachelors, though, and the best I could hope was that she picked the right one. A decent one. One who loved her as fully and honestly as I did. Because she deserved that and so much more.

  Piper started shaking her head. She still hadn’t looked up at me. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.”

  “Then don’t,” I said simply.

  “But—”

  “Let me say goodbye instead.”

  Piper looked up, lips parted, eyes dazzling, with tears clinging to her lashes.

  I cupped her chin in one hand and drew her lips toward mine to seal them in the most tender kiss I could muster without crumbling. This kiss was everything and nothing, all at once. It was a kiss I would remember forever and one she might not. It was a kiss that I hoped made her feel all the things I was feeling. Love, lust, heartbreak, loneliness, gratitude. All of it. I hoped it offered her some comfort, and I hoped she thought of it for at least a couple of days before the shiny newness of the next bachelor shadowed my memory.

  Because he would.

  And that was all right. It had to be.

  When we pulled apart, a tear had slipped down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb and gave her the best smile I could muster. “Come on. Let me help you bring your bags down.”

  Piper’s eyes danced back and forth between mine. I saw a lot of emotions in the depths of the sea of brown. Confusion. Hurt. Grief. And something else I couldn’t put my finger on. Was it pity?

  No.

  Guilt?

  Maybe.

  It didn’t matter.

  I helped her carry her things onto the elevator. We rode down quietly, her hip pressed to mine, and when the doors opened and spat us out, we crossed the lobby and stepped outside onto the curb where the limo was conveniently already waiting. Her driver came around and opened the trunk and began loading her bags into it as I walked her to the back door of the limo.

  “This is it,” I said, tugging it open.

  Piper lingered on the edge of the curb with her hands clasped together. “I guess it is.”

  “I’ll see you soon. Just because we’re saying goodbye now doesn’t mean we’re never going to see each other again. And you can call me.” I knew she wouldn’t call, but I could offer anyway.

  Piper nodded. “I will.”

  I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to gather her up in my arms and never let go and promise her the world. I wanted to take her on tour with me. We could slip away to Europe without anyone knowing and spend weeks on end sipping great wines and eating cheese platters and getting fat together. We could explore ruins and ancient cities suspended in time. We could go to the south of France and grow a garden and live off our own produce.

  Dreams. That was all they were. Dreams and wishes I could cling to so I didn’t have to feel the hardening pit of despair in my gut.

  Piper reached for me and rested her hand on my arm. “There’s so much I want to say but can’t.”

  I reached in the breast pocket of my jacket, where I’d tucked an envelope with a handwritten letter inside it. I’d written her name on the envelope, and as I handed it to her, she frowned at me.

  “What’s this?”

  “I want you to read it. Once you leave. It says everything I knew I wouldn’t be able to put into words out loud. And you know me. I’m better at writing things down.”

  She smiled at me. “Makes sense. I’ll read it in the car.”

  “I hope when you get to the end, you aren’t angry with me.”

  Piper cocked her head to the side. “Angry?”

  “You’ll understand when you read it.”

  She peered back down at the envelope as her eyebrows drew together. “Okay.”

  I pulled her in for one last hug. She wrapped her arms around my waist and let me hold her for a good thirty seconds, pausing to press my lips to the top of her head one last time and breathe in her coconut-scented shampoo.

  “You’d better go,” I whispered. “Otherwise, I’ll never let you go.”

  She gave me one last squeeze before stepping off the curb and sinking down into the back seat of the limo. She smiled up at me as I closed the door, and then she disappeared behind the tinted
window. As I stood back, the car pulled away from the curb, carrying her and all my hopes and dreams out of Kingston and to the Big Apple.

  I sighed and slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

  “Goodbye, dream girl. It was nice to have you. At least for a little while.”

  With slumped shoulders and a heavy heart, I turned back to my building, slipped inside, and made my way to the elevators. I considered calling Jackson Lee to tell him about the month and how I’d met Piper’s parents, but decided my heart and mind weren’t in the right place for that. I’d call him tomorrow.

  The ride up on the elevator was lonely and quiet, but not nearly as bad as my apartment when I walked in.

  The silence reached for me like clawing skeletal hands threatening to pull me back to the darkness of my old ways. I glanced at my open laptop on my desk and told myself I wouldn’t go near it. If I started writing now, I’d start drinking, and then everything would get a hell of a lot messier.

  So, I ended up standing in the guestroom, lingering in the soft scent of Piper’s absence. I could still smell her shampoo and her floral perfume. Part of her was still here, if only for a few more minutes, and I wasn’t going to let those minutes go to waste.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and laid back, clasping my hands on my stomach as I stared up at the white ceiling.

  The hornets buzzing around my heart came in for a second attack, and I closed my eyes, inviting in the pain and the sorrow of losing her.

  Chapter 25

  Piper

  My hands trembled as I unsealed the envelope Aaron handed me minutes ago. I had no clue what it was he wanted to say or what could possibly make me angry, and my mind was reeling as my stomach did backflips.

  I drew the letter out of the envelope. It was handwritten on a cream sheet of thick paper. Aaron’s printing was neat and slanted. Some of his letters joined together like cursive, while others were independent, giving the letter an elegant, sophisticated feel.

  Acting on impulse, rather than conscious thought, I lifted the letter to my nose and sniffed it, hoping it would smell like him.

  It did not.