I get a whiff of what she’s smelling and wince. “Shit! Yeah, um… sorry.”
She giggles. “Just so you know, I would have kissed you back.”
I grin, staring into her ocean-blue eyes. “You would?”
She nods. “Totally.”
“I’ve missed you.”
Her expression saddens. “I’ve missed you too.”
“Bailey, I—”
She presses her finger against my lips, stopping me from telling her I love her.
“Don’t say anything—not yet,” she whispers, her eyes misty. “Go home and shower first, at least.”
She’s not giving up on me.
My chest expands with hope. “I need to get Sunday from Mum and I want you to come with me. After, we can take her to the park before dropping her back off. ‘Cause tonight, I’m cooking you dinner.”
“You are?” she asks, her voice teasing.
I’d pull her against me, but I really do stink. She’s brave being as close as she is; I smell like Maddox’s feet.
And they reek.
“I am. So, will you spend the day with me and Sunday and your night with me cooking and us watching a movie?”
She grins. “I’d love to.”
“Good.”
I hand her back the coffee cup and make my way towards the front door. Standing on the threshold, I turn back to her, finding her still watching me with a cute, goofy smile on her face.
I smirk, raking my eyes up and down her body. “By the way, cute pyjamas.”
I laugh at her expression and step through the door. My feet crunch on something below my feet, and I frown, staring down at layer of dirt and small pieces of broken pottery.
I pop my head back inside. “And you really should clean this up. You’ll have people traipsing dirt through your house.”
“You did that!” she snaps.
“I did?”
“Yes, now go—before I change my mind.”
“Not before you explain how I did this,” I demand playfully. I look around to see what could have done it, but there’s nothing but a black bag out here.
Maybe she just thinks it was me because of the whole smelling of egg thing.
She throws a pair of trainers at me, and they look a lot like mine. I duck before they can hit me and glance down at my feet, realising they are, in fact, my trainers. I laugh, picking them up. “Okay, okay; I’m going.”
“Bye,” she calls out as I make my way across the garden, walking backwards so I’m facing her. She’s standing in the doorway, clutching the doorframe.
“Be ready in thirty minutes,” I tell her.
“Why? You take an hour just to do your hair.”
I chuckle. “Ah, girl has jokes.”
“Not a joke if it’s the truth,” she sasses back.
I smirk, blowing her a kiss before rushing up the stairs, self-consciously touching my hair. Bits of it are rock-hard.
Just how many times did Maddox egg me?
I step inside my apartment and hear my phone ringing from the sofa. I quickly grab it, answering the call.
“Hello?”
“Good, you’re alive. I’ve been worried sick about you all morning. Did you know Maddox got dropped off at Lily’s by the police last night? I thought something had happened to you when I couldn’t get in touch,” my mum rants.
“He did?” I ask, thinking back to the two bottles of vodka we bought when we picked up the eggs.
“Yes. He was half-naked and swimming in the outdoor pool.”
Huh. “What outdoor pool?”
“The one at the leisure park.”
“Isn’t that a fifteen-minute drive?”
Mum sighs. “Yes. Evidently, your brother told the taxi driver that address as a prank. He just couldn’t remember if you were still in the taxi with Maddox or not, so they’ve been looking for you all morning.”
“Wait, so Mark gave the taxi driver the leisure centre’s address?” I ask, then burst out laughing. “Why the hell did Maddox go in there?”
“He was drunk, Aiden, so who knows.”
“I’m gonna ring him,” I tell her, still chuckling.
“Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were safe and well.”
“Is Sunday okay?” I ask before she ends the call.
“She’s fine, Aiden,” Mum muses. “But her dad sounds rough.”
I chuckle. “I feel it.” I admit. “I’ll be by soon to pick up Sunday. Are you still okay to have her again tonight?”
“Of course I am. I’ve loved having her here.”
“I love you, Mum. Won’t be long.”
“Love you too, son.”
We end the call, and instead of getting in the shower, I dial Maddox, a smile on my face, laughter ready burst free.
“What the fuck do you want?” he grouches.
“Morning, sunshine,” I cheer into the phone, enjoying his pained groan that follows.
“You’re a bastard.”
“Mum and Dad were married before they conceived me, so technically, I’m not bastard,” I rattle off, moving into my bedroom. I put him on loudspeaker, dropping my phone on the bed so I can strip out of my top.
“Twat!” he groans, and I hear shuffling through the phone. “I’m gonna kill Mark when I see him.”
“Where did Liam go?”
“It gets foggy after the first bottle of vodka, but he left to get more eggs. I spoke to him this morning.”
“And he didn’t return?”
Maddox lets out a throaty chuckle. “No. He was breaking into Charlotte’s house ‘cause the shop was closed. He knew she has them stocked like the world is gonna end tomorrow.”
I laugh. “What happened?”
“Landon happened. He was halfway through the kitchen window when Landon pulled him through by his T-shirt and started beating him up. He’s a little sore this morning.”
I sit on the edge of my bed in my boxers, clutching my stomach as I laugh. It reminds me of the time he snuck back home after leaving to go to his mates’ in the middle of the night. He got drunk, and on his way back in, he bumped into the dishes drying on the draining board, smashing a few plates in the process. My uncle Max thought someone was trying to rob him and sprayed him in the face with hairspray. He never snuck out again.
“Mum said you went swimming. Why the fuck did you go inside?”
He groans. “I don’t even remember. The last thing I recall is Mark calling a taxi, and then the police taking me home.”
“Wish we could have recorded you doing this.”
“Fuck you. And I bet you did something stupid last night.”
I grin. “Nope. Unless you count crashing on Bailey’s couch stupid—which I don’t—then no.”
“And you didn’t say anything or do anything?” he asks, like he doesn’t believe me.
“Maddox, trust me; I can handle my drink way better than you. I didn’t do shit. She would have said something,” I tell him.
“Yeah right. Anyway, I’m off to sleep. I need to get rid of this hangover,” he says. “Is it a hangover if you’re still pissed?”
“I dunno,” I admit. “I’ll speak to you later. I’m going to get ready. I’ve got a date with Bailey.”
“What? She forgave you?”
I feel lighter than I have in weeks when I answer him. “Yes.”
“If you say so. Be careful; women fight dirty. She’s probably waiting for you to lower your guard before she cuts your dick off.”
“Bailey isn’t like that,” I snap.
Is she?
She wouldn’t do that to me, right?
“No one thought Hayden was like that but look how sweet she is before she turns into a piranha.”
“That’s Hayden. If lads fall for her bullshit, that’s their fault. Bailey isn’t like that.”
“All women are like that. Remember Charlotte—Charlotte, who wouldn’t kill a fly, but we caught shoving muffins down that bloke’s throat?”
Thinking about
the guy who fucked Faith over makes my blood boil.
“I wasn’t there, remember?”
“Oh shit! You were making Sunday,” he muses. “Well, you should have been there. I thought she was going to suffocate him with her muffins.”
“That sounds so wrong,” I tell him.
“It does if you haven’t tasted one of her muffins,” he grouches. “Now fuck off, I need my beauty sleep.”
“You need more than sleep to make your ugly mug beautiful.”
“Screw you, dickhead. Speak to you tomorrow—or next week.”
I laugh into the phone. “Bye.”
Before the call ends, he mutters, “Fucking morning people.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BAILEY
Meeting Aiden’s parents formally for the first time wasn’t as hard as I thought it would it be. His mum was as lovely as I remembered her to be. The day she laid me down in Aiden’s bed to rest, she treated me as if I was a part of the family. It was nice.
His dad, although scarily intimidating with his tattoos and brooding expression, wasn’t actually as grouchy as he came across, either. I could see he loved his son and granddaughter. I also got to meet another one of his cousins—Ciara. She seemed down to earth, just like the rest of his family.
Walking along the path in the park, I struggle with what to say to Aiden. It wasn’t uncomfortable this morning when he woke up, so I’m not understanding why it is now. Everything had seemed fine when he left to shower and change.
It wasn’t until he picked me up that the conversation felt forced. He jumped every time I moved or spoke, and I’m worried that throwing his shoes at him has scared him somehow.
It’s like dealing with a traumatised kid.
I’d spent most of the night watching him sleep, making sure he didn’t choke on his vomit. Not having enough sleep has affected my mood, which isn’t helping my paranoia. I’m tired and cranky and won’t have time for a nap since he’s planned to spend the whole day with me. And there is no way I’m going to risk him changing his mind, just so I can sleep. Sleep can wait until tonight.
But I can’t take the awkward silence anymore. It’s killing me. I’ve been surrounded by silence for years, and he filled it with laughter and noise. There have even been moments over the last two weeks when I’ve taken my hearing aid out and still silently longed to hear his voice. Now, I’m getting nothing. Not a word. Just awkward glances and a wide berth.
“Your mum is really amazing,” I tell Aiden. He pulls the pushchair to a stop in front of a pond scattered with ducks and swans.
“She is,” he says, sitting down on the bench.
Inwardly groaning, I sit down next him, seeing him glance at me warily from the corner of his eye and shift along the bench.
That’s it. I need to know what the fuck is going on. Because I know for a fact I don’t stink. I checked when he got out of the car.
“Have I done something to upset you?”
He jumps, grimacing. “Shit!” he whispers. “Sorry. It’s just Maddox and something he said.”
“Something he said?”
Turning his body towards me, his face is filled with worry. “Do you really forgive me? Are we really okay?”
“Of course, we’re okay,” I say a little loudly, wondering what has brought this on. Has he changed his mind and only wants to be friends now? “And I told you there was nothing to forgive you for. You didn’t sleep with her whilst knowing who she was, and even if you did, it’s no business of mine to tell you what to do.”
“And you mean it? You aren’t lying so that you can chop my balls off in my sleep or something?”
Eyebrows raised, I reply. “Um, no. Why would I lie to you?”
Did I miss a conversation we had or something? Because this has come out of nowhere.
“Fucking Maddox,” he groans, scrubbing his face.
“Maddox? What does Maddox have to do with this?”
“Nothing. Just filling my head with crap,” he says, closing his eyes briefly.
“Tell me what he said.”
His eyes meet mine. “He’s just being Maddox. I don’t even know why I listened to him,” he says, then explains what Maddox said.
“You really think I’m that vindictive?”
“No. But he has a way of making you believe what he says,” he explains, looking ashamed.
I grin. “So, if he told you a leopard was on the loose, you’d believe him?”
He chuckles, nodding. “Don’t mock me. Just wait until he does it to you. He gets so animated—so excited over what he’s saying you have no reason not to believe him.”
“Oh, I can believe it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I’m new to all of this and I royally fucked up,” he says, a little red-faced.
I place my hand over his, resting between us on the bench, and gently squeeze. “It’s fine,” I tell him, fighting back a sigh. “Can we just forget about that night at the pub, please?”
“Why?” he asks, looking up from our joined hands sharply.
“Because I don’t want you to keep having to say you’re sorry. I let all the hurt they’ve caused—the stuff they did—boil up inside me, and I took it out on you.”
“Mum always says you hurt the ones you love the most,” he whispers.
Our eyes lock in an intense stare, neither of us fighting to look away.
“So they say,” I whisper back.
A bird flies low, shooting between us, squawking and breaking our connection. Aiden shakes his head before reaching under the pushchair for the bag of bread his mum put in for him. It brings a smile to my face when I think of her handing it to him, saying she had already ripped the bread up. Aiden had blushed like a little boy whilst his dad laughed and teased him, offering to cut his crusts off his sandwich.
“Do you want to feed some ducks?”
Finally feeling like things are good between us again, I nod. “Why don’t you take Sunday a little closer. When the ducks come, I’ll take a photo for you. You should have a keepsake for her first day in the park.”
He grins. “I never even thought of doing that. I’ve been filling out the baby book Mum and Dad bought me, but she’s not old enough for most of it yet.”
“At least you can add this one to the album; her first day at the park,” I tell him.
He smiles back at me as he pushes the pushchair closer to the pond, before throwing bread around the front of the pushchair.
“Not that close,” I shriek in warning, my hand ready with the camera.
But it’s too late.
I snap a picture just as birds, ducks, and swans flock around him, his mouth agape and his eyes filled with horror.
“Aiden,” I cry out, taking a step towards him, but a bird nearly hitting me stops me in my tracks.
He screeches like a banshee when one of the pigeon’s land on top of the pushchair. Frantically, he tries to knock it off, but the stubborn bird isn’t having it. None of them are. “Shoo, you fucking vermin.”
A swan pecks his leg and he howls, his wide, panicked eyes finding mine. My mouth is agape, wondering who fed them steroids and speed. They’re all acting insane, like they haven’t been fed in weeks.
“Get her out of here,” he yells as the bag of bread tears a little.
All at once, they gravitate towards him and the bread, moving slowly away from Sunday. Rushing over, I reach for her pushchair and pull her away from the herd of crazy-ass birds.
Aiden’s arms start failing around, trying to fend them off, but it’s no use. He has something they want, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to stop until they get it.
I place my hand over my mouth to smother the roaring laughter escaping my chest. He screams louder, tripping over a massive swan, who doesn’t like not being fed and starts pecking Aiden relentlessly.
“Run!” he screams before, turning back to a swan. “Get off me!”
I watch as he tries to fight them off, but more come from the w
ater and head directly for him. I can barely see Aiden as they jump all over him, only hearing his screeches of pain.
“Aiden,” I warn when he crawls closer to the water.
I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s hard not to.
The bag of bread in his hand catches my eye. “Oh, my God, throw the bread!”
He looks up at me through the flock of birds before he tilts his head up, his gaze landing on the bag of bread above his head, still clutched tightly in his fist. Most of the bag has ripped, and when he throws it, bread lands all over the place.
They all move away, assaulting the bread like they’ve never been fed. I find Aiden getting back up, wiping down his jeans and blowing out a breath. I’m just about to tell him there’s a piece of bread on his shoulder when two swans lunge for him.
He screams, stepping backwards and holding his hand out like he’s trying to tame them. But it’s no use. There’s no stopping them, and I see the second he realises that when his eyes widen and his skin pales, panic clearly setting in.
“Aiden,” I scream, ready to rush over, but it’s too late. His gaze meets mine as he falls, his arms flapping around in wide circles—like that’s going to stop him from falling. He lands on his back in the water, the loud slap making me wince. “Holy shit!”
He comes up spluttering, wiping water from his face and hair. I quickly snap another picture, laughter bursting free.
“It’s not funny,” he growls, trying to get out of the water. He gets halfway out before slipping back in, and a disgruntled growl escapes him.
“Oh, it really is,” I tell him, laughing even harder when ducks begin swimming over to him. His face is a picture, only making the entire incident funnier.
He looks out at the water, his eyes wide at seeing more ducks coming for him. I’ve never seen anyone move as quickly as he does then, scrabbling to get out of the water and out of the line of fire.
He rushes over to us, grabbing the handles of the pushchair in one hand and taking my hand in his other.
“You’re making this worse by laughing, you know,” he mutters as we rush back down the path, water squishing around in his trainers. They squeak, and I struggle to breathe through my giggling. It’s so funny.
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