Wouldn’t it?
Could I just forgive Aiden and do this?
I knew people made mistakes, and I understood that you didn’t always know what you had until you didn’t have it; I had learned that myself the hard way about small things I’d taken for granted. But I also knew how resentful I could be, how I held on to grudges sometimes.
I found myself driving to Aiden’s house, heart in my throat, risking my life and freedom for a freaking student loan that I couldn’t just forget about or disregard.
The security guard at the gate grinned at me when I pulled in to the community Aiden lived in. “I haven’t seen you in forever, Miss Vanessa,” he greeted me.
“I quit,” I explained after greeting him. “He shouldn’t be surprised I’m here.”
He gave me a look that said he was a little more than impressed. “He’s not. He’s been reminding me every week to let you in if you came by.”
He was either a little too confident or…
Well, there was no ‘or.’ He was a little too confident. I suddenly had the urge to turn my car around to teach him a lesson, but I wasn’t egotistical or dumb enough to do it. With a good-bye wave at the guard, I drove passed the gate and toward the home I’d been to too many times to count.
I knew he’d be home, so I didn’t worry about the absence of cars in the driveway as I parked on the street like I had every time in the past, and marched up to the front door, feeling incredibly awkward as I rang the doorbell.
I wanted to turn around, walk away, and tell myself I didn’t need his money. I really wanted to.
But I didn’t go anywhere.
It took a couple minutes for the sound of the lock getting tumbled to let me know he was there, but in no time, the door was swung open and Aiden stood there in his usual attire, his towering body blocking the light from inside the house. His expression was open and serious as he let me in, and led me over to where everything had begun—the big kitchen. It didn’t matter that his couch was incredibly comfortable; he always seemed to prefer to sit in the kitchen at the island or in one of the chairs of the nook to eat, read, or do a puzzle.
He took a seat on his favorite stool, and I took the one furthest away from him. It was weirder than it should have been considering what was at stake.
I was a person, and he wasn’t any more or any less special than I was, and regardless of what happened, I had to remember that point.
So I sucked in a breath through my nose, and just went for it. Honesty was the best policy and all that, wasn’t it? “Look, I’m scared,” I admitted in one breath, taking in his familiar features, the slants of his cheekbones, the thick, short beard that covered the lower half of his face, and that ragged white scar along his hairline.
For two years, I’d seen his face at least five times a week, and not once had we ever had a moment remotely close to this. I couldn’t forget that, because it mattered to me. It would be one thing to have a stranger ask me to marry him because he wanted to become a U.S. resident, but it was a totally different thing to have someone that I knew, who had never cared for me, ask.
Honestly, it was worse.
Aiden’s long lashes lowered for a moment, and the man who was as greedy with his attention and affections as I was with the red and pink Starbursts, lifted a rounded, hunk of a shoulder. “What are you worried about?” He commanded the words.
“I don’t want to go to jail.” I really didn’t want to go to jail; I’d looked up marriage fraud on the internet and it was a felony. A felony with up to a five-year prison sentence and a fine that made my student loans seem like chump change.
Apparently the male version of my best friend said, “You have to get caught to go to jail.”
“I’m a terrible liar,” I admitted because he had no idea how bad of one I was.
“You knew you were planning on quitting for months before you did. I think you might be okay with it,” he threw out suddenly in a slightly accusing tone.
That might have made me wince if I felt guilty about what I’d done, but I didn’t. It also didn’t occur to me right then that he somehow knew I’d been planning on quitting for a long time. It just sort of went in one ear and right out the other. “I didn’t lie to you. I only stayed because you had just gotten better, and I felt bad leaving you so soon afterward. I couldn’t talk myself into doing it, and I was only trying to be a nice person. There’s a difference.”
His thick eyebrows went up a millimeter but no other muscle in his face reacted to my comment. “You told Zac,” he pointed out like an accusation.
An accusation I wasn’t going to grab onto. “Yeah, I told Zac because he’s my friend.” I damn sure wasn’t going to apologize for it. “Please tell me when I was supposed to casually tell you, and expect a high five. Or were you going to give me a hug and congratulate me?” I might have nailed him with a look that said ‘are you fucking me?’
“When I did finally tell you, you didn’t care, Aiden. That’s what half of this comes down to. I’m still… I’m so mad at you, and I accept that I shouldn’t be. I just can’t help it. You’re not my friend; you’ve never tried to be my friend. You haven’t once given a shit about me until you needed something, and now for some strange reason, you’re making it seem like you can’t live without me. And we both know that’s bullshit.”
He stayed quiet for a moment, taking a sharp sniff, his eyes seemingly trying to pierce a hole straight through my head. “I’ve apologized to you. I meant it. You know I meant it,” he insisted, and I could grudgingly admit to myself that the logical part of my brain recognized that statement as a truth. Aiden didn’t apologize, and for all the things he was, he wasn’t a liar. That just wasn’t in his genes. For him to actually say the ‘A’ word? It wasn’t insignificant. “I don’t have time for friends, and if I did, I wouldn’t go out of my way to make them anyway. I’ve always been this way. And I really don’t have time for a relationship. You understand that. I’m not worried about getting caught—”
So he was changing the subject. “Because you won’t be the one going to jail,” I reminded him under my breath, frustrated at his tactics.
He raised one of his eyebrows another millimeter, but it was his flaring nostrils that gave away his irritation. “I’ve done a lot of research, and I consulted an immigration lawyer. We can pull it off. All you would have to do at first is file a petition for me.”
Aiden didn’t say I think we can pull it off, he said we could do it and I didn’t miss that nuance.
“You know, Aiden, you make saying yes so damn difficult. I would have done just about anything for you if you’d asked me when I worked for you, but now, especially when you act—you still act—like one single ‘sorry’ makes up for disrespecting me in front of other people, and letting someone talk about me, it pisses me off. How can you ask me to do this huge favor for you when I feel zero obligation to? We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if I didn’t want my loans paid off.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I want to tell you to leave me alone, that I’ll pay off my debt on my own like I had always planned on doing. I don’t need your money.” Meeting his eyes, I had to fight the urge to tear up. “I wished you had respected me enough to appreciate me back when it would have meant something. I liked you. I admired you, and in the course of a few days, you killed all that.”
The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.
We stared at each other. And stared at each other. Then stared at each other a little more.
When I was a kid, I learned the hard way how expensive the truth was. Sometimes it cost you people in your life. Sometimes it cost you things in your life. And in this life, most people were too cheap to pay the price for something as valuable as honesty. In this case, I could tell the price tag had hit Aiden unexpectedly.
Slowly, after a few breaths, he ducked his head, and rubbed at the back of his neck with that great big hand. His breathing got harder, raspier, and he sighed an Alaska-size
d breath. “Forgive me.” His tone was rougher than ever, seemingly dragged through sand, and then covered in shards of glass. Yet somehow, it sounded like the most real, heartfelt thing to ever come out of his mouth, at least in front of me.
But it still didn’t feel like enough.
“I can forgive you. I’m sure you regretted it later on when I wasn’t around but—” I shoved my glasses to the top of my head and rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand before lowering them again. “Look, this isn’t a good start to a fake relationship, don’t you think?”
“No.” He moved his head slightly, just enough so that I could see those dark coffee irises with that bright amber ring surrounding the pupil peering up at me beneath the fanned cover of his long eyelashes. “I always learn from my mistakes. We made a good team once. We’ll make a good team again.”
Lifting his head completely, a dimple in his cheek popped out of nowhere, and he raised his hands to cup the sides of his head. “I’m no good at this kind of stuff. I would rather give you money than have to beg, but I will if that’s what you want,” he admitted, sounding about as vulnerable as ever. “You’re the only person I would want to do this with me.”
Why wasn’t this so black and white?
“I’m not asking you to beg me. Come on. All I’ve ever wanted from you was… I don’t even know. Maybe I want to think that you care about me at least a little bit after so long, and that’s pointless. You want this to be a business deal, and I understand. It just makes me feel cheap because I know if Zac was asking me, I would have probably said yes from the beginning because he’s my friend. You couldn’t even find it in your heart to tell me ‘good morning’.”
He sighed, his index finger and thumb pulling at his ear. Dropping his gaze to the kitchen countertop, he offered, “I can be your friend.”
Two years too late. “Only because you want something.”
To give him credit, he didn’t try to argue with me otherwise. “I can be your friend. I can try,” he said in a low, earnest voice. “Friends take a lot of time and effort, but…” Aiden looked up at me again with a sigh, “I can do it. If that’s what you want.”
“I get so angry thinking about everything; I don’t know if that’s even what I really want anymore. It’s probably not what I ever wanted. I don’t know. I just wanted you to see me as a person instead of just that person you don’t ever have to tell ‘thank you’ to. So for you to tell me you can try to be my friend, it’s so forced.”
“I’m sorry. I know. I’m a loner. I’ve always been a loner. I can’t remember the last time I had a friend who didn’t play football, and even then, it usually never lasted. You know how much it means to me. You know how seriously I take it, maybe better than most of my teammates do,” he explained like it was taking everything in him to make that admission.
I just kind of side-eyed him.
He continued. “I know you know. I can also accept responsibility for not being very nice to you either, all right? I said I’m not good at this friendship thing, I never have been, and it’s easier not to bother trying.”
If that wasn’t the most slacker comment to ever come out of his mouth, I didn’t know what was. But I didn’t say it out loud.
“If you got on my nerves, I would have fired you the first time you flipped me off.”
I found myself not exactly feeling honored.
“You’re a good employee. I told you that. I needed an assistant, Vanessa; I didn’t want a friend. But you’re a good person. You work hard. You’re committed. That’s more than I can say about anyone else I’ve met in a long time.” That big Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared right at me. “I need a friend—I need you.”
Was he trying to bribe me with his amazing, once-in-a-lifetime friendship? Or was I just being a cynical asshole?
As I stared at his facial features trying to decide, I realized I was being dumb. This was Aiden. Maybe he’d done something shitty by not defending me, but if I really thought about it, he probably wouldn’t have defended Zac either. He’d said time and time again in interviews that he solely wanted to focus on his career while he had it. From every interview that had ever been made with one of his coaches, they all said the same thing: he was the most single-minded, hardworking player they had ever come across.
He started playing football his junior year of high school. Junior year. Most NFO caliber players had been on the field since they were old enough to walk. Yet Aiden had a calling, Leslie, his high school coach had said. He became a phenomenon in no time at all, and attended a university on a football scholarship. Not just any run of the mill school either, but a top one. One that he’d won a few championships with, and even graduated with a degree from.
Damn it.
God damn it.
He wouldn’t be asking me to do this if he didn’t think he had to.
And I was well aware that people didn’t change unless they wanted to, and this was a man who did whatever he put his mind to.
This pitiful, resigned sigh pulled its way out of my lungs. An answer to what he was asking of me sat at the front of my brain, at the tip of my tongue, curled in the pit of my belly. Was there any other possible response that wouldn’t lead me to being the biggest idiot on the planet?
“Let’s say we can. How long… how long would we have to stay marr—?” I couldn’t say it on the first try. “Stay married for?” I rushed out in a small voice.
He made sure to look me right in the eye when he answered. “Five years would make it seem less suspicious. I would only be given a conditional green card at first. After two years, I could get a permanent one.”
Five years? Aiden was thirty now; he’d be thirty-five. I was twenty-six for the remainder of the year. I’d be thirty-one when we’d technically get divorced. Thirty-one wasn’t old, not even close to it. The number didn’t seem as atrocious as it should have… if I was really considering agreeing.
But still. Five years. A lot could happen in that period of time. What I knew most though, was that there was no way in hell I could manage to pay off my loans in ten years, much less five, even if I sold my car, rode the bus everywhere, disconnected my cell phone, and ate ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Five years,” I repeated, blowing out a breath. “Okay.”
“Makes sense?”
I eyed him, reminding myself that I wasn’t saying yes to him yet. We were just talking. “Yes, it makes sense. If I were saying yes, which I’m not doing right now, so calm your horses.” I’d give myself a pat on the back later for being so ballsy and firm.
He stared at me evenly, unfazed. “What else are you worried about?”
I huffed. “Everything?”
Aiden blinked at me. “About what? I’ll pay off what you owe and buy you a house.”
Think, Van. Think. It couldn’t go this easily. I had some honor, and I hadn’t completely forgiven him for being a jackass, despite his possibly manipulative and forced apologies earlier. My pride had a price too, and it was that idea that had me swallowing hard and meeting the gaze that for so long had forced me to look elsewhere.
“What if your career ends tomorrow?” I asked, despite how much of a gold digger it made me sound. This was a business deal, and I was going to treat it like one.
One of his eyebrows went a little funny. “You know how much money is in my bank account.”
He had a point.
“If I didn’t work the rest of my life, I would be fine. You know I don’t handle my money irresponsibly either,” he stated in an almost insulted tone. By that, he meant he could still go through with what he was offering me, and be okay in the end.
“I’m not going to be your assistant again either.” I made sure to keep my eyes on him even though I really, really didn’t want to. “I’ve worked really hard to do my design work full-time, and I’m not going to give it up.”
That wide, square jaw hardened, and I could tell his teeth were grinding, which gave me an oddly victorious
sensation in my chest. “Vanessa—”
“I’m being serious. I’m not doing it. We tried it and it didn’t end well, and I won’t put myself through that again. You know I don’t even really want to do this, but you’re offering me something that’s hard to say no to,” I explained. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you, but I didn’t ask for this. You asked me. You’ve gone out of your way to get me to agree; I told you there are a million women in the world who would do this for you, and not want anything in return—” except to maybe sleep with him, but I kept that to myself. “You don’t need me. You have the world at your fingertips, big guy. I don’t know if you know that or not.”
After saying that, I realized I might be the dumbest person in the entire universe. The dumbest.
I half expected him to tell me to screw off then, but this was a deal breaker, and I needed him to understand that. If he told me I was out of my damn mind, then twenty years from now, I could more than likely live with myself for turning down his offer. I’d planned to quit working for him to further my dream; I wasn’t going to tie myself down for another five years with the same amount of work I’d been juggling. I just wasn’t. There was a lot I’d be willing to sacrifice, but not that.
Folding my hands on my lap, I squeezed one set of fingers tight, focusing, and keeping my breathing even.
He was frustrated. Aggravated. But he wasn’t saying yes or no. I had nothing left to lose, and I needed him to understand that yes, maybe I was being a little bit of a bitch, but it wasn’t for no reason. He did what he did for his dream, and I was going to do what I needed to do for mine. If anyone could understand that, it should have been him.
I reached up and played with one of the legs of my glasses, forcing myself not to look away. I licked my lips nervously and raised my eyebrows. I’d done it, said what I needed to say, and I could live the rest of my life with the consequences, damn it.
What seemed like a month later, The Wall of Winnipeg sighed.
I set my elbow on the counter and mirrored his position in resignation. “Are you fine with me not being your assistant or not?”
The Wall of Winnipeg and Me Page 12
