by Melissa West
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s done. Besides, that was mild.”
I thought of what I could say to make him feel better, but our pasts couldn’t be erased with kind words in the present. They were a part of us, a living, breathing thing in our lives. I hadn’t met Aidan’s father, but the more I heard about him, the more I understood why Aidan was afraid to end up like him. Then I realized that with his mother gone and his jerk of a father, he had no one. No family to visit with. No place to go for the holidays.
“Do you have other family?”
Aidan cleared his throat and glanced out the window. “Not really. I’m not close with my extended family.”
“But then what do you do over the holidays? Where do you go?”
“I work.”
My heart clenched as I watched his face flicker with hurt before he cleared it of any emotion, and I knew the conversation was over.
“Let’s grab lunch. We can go somewhere private, outside our norm, no one we know anywhere around.” Standing, I reached for his hand, helping him up. Hopefully getting out would pull his mind from his father. “Please?”
“I know just the place.”
We started out the door when I glanced over at him, unable to hold my tongue. “You know you would never be that kind of father, right?”
Aidan locked his door and then reached for my hand. “I don’t plan to find out.”
“What do you mean? You don’t want kids?”
“No wife, no kids. Kind of need the first to get the second, right? Stairs?”
A sinking feeling worked through me, refusing to settle. “Yeah…the stairs.”
Chapter Seventeen
I started for my cube Monday morning, my mind still on the weekend, when Gayle motioned for me to come to her office. Immediately, my pulse sped up, even though I knew I was being ridiculous. We hadn’t left Aidan’s apartment except for lunch on Sunday, and surely no one saw me go into his building, right? And even if someone had, I could have been visiting a friend, a relative, anyone. This was nothing. Nothing at all.
So why couldn’t I stop shaking?
She motioned for me to close the door, and I sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk and crossed my legs, then uncrossed them, threaded my fingers, then rested them flat in my lap. My mind was a frazzled mess, and she hadn’t even spoken.
“Doing okay this morning?” she asked. She was smiling. That had to mean everything was fine. Everything was absolutely fine. Totally fine. Absolutely, totally fine.
“Sure. How about you?”
She bobbed her head. “Good. So, look, I saw the Blast mock-up this morning. Aidan said you were behind most of it, and I have to tell you, Cameron, it’s genius. They’ll love it. I know it.”
I released a breath. Thank God, this was about work and nothing more. I sat back in my chair, telling my heart it was okay to settle down. No heart attacks on the agenda for today.
“I’m glad you like it. So, you just wanted to talk about the campaign?”
Her face went serious and she leaned in closer. “Well, actually, no.” Oh shit, this was it. I swallowed hard and prepared to hear some ultimatum—if it happens again, you’re fired. Or maybe she would fire me now, cut her losses, and find someone who could work without falling for her boss. Oh my God. Maybe Aidan was in a similar meeting with the partners right now. Shit, shit, shit.
“I called you in here to tell you that you’re getting a bonus for coming up with the idea. If Blast takes it, you’ll get a five-thousand-dollar bonus and likely be promoted to account executive at the first of the year.”
“A bonus. Seriously?” So not the direction I’d envisioned in my head.
“You deserve it. And Aidan seems to really like you. He’s very picky, but he’s always going on and on about your potential. It pays to get in with the boss.” She winked.
My eyes widened. I couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious. Either way, we had to be more careful, but how could we be more careful than keeping our relationship to abandoned stairwells and our apartments?
Gayle checked her watch and then stood abruptly. “We better get in there. The meeting’s about to begin.” I followed her into the conference room, intentionally keeping my eyes in front of me, on the floor, then my chair—anywhere but at the front of the table, to where I knew Aidan sat. Once we were settled, Aidan conference-called Trevor from Blast, and we waited for everyone on his end to arrive.
“All right, then,” Aidan said. He started into his presentation, both addressing the Blast Water team and our own, his tone and his movements growing more enthusiastic as he spoke. He loved his job, that much was clear, but it was more than that. This was a challenge to him, and his competitive side needed the win. When he finished talking, he pressed his hands against the table and leaned in closer to the phone. “We believe this campaign can take your brand to the next level with not only college football, but sports in general.”
There was silence on the other end, followed by assents and discussion. We waited. I took the opportunity to look at the final mock-up. It had Aidan written all over it, but it was also me. My notes. My details. I stared at the picture of the child on the left and the man on the right, and I wanted the drink in his hand. If that drink turned a kid into a hero, on the field or not, I wanted that drink. In short, it was perfect. I smiled and glanced over at Aidan before I could help myself, only to find him watching me. Our gazes held for a moment, a half second, no more, but the sensation was immediate. My chest became numb and my legs felt weak. I was back there, feeling his firm body against mine, his breath on my neck. I wondered if he was there, too. If we shared this moment of dual realities. And if so, which one did he prefer? His eyes cut away before I could guess.
Finally Trevor broke the silence. “Aidan?”
Aidan focused back on the phone, his face completely at ease, as though we were talking about lunch instead of a multimillion-dollar business deal. “I’m here.”
Trevor hesitated, and I fought the urge to tell him to hurry up. After what felt like forever, he finally spoke up. “We love it.”
The creative team high-fived and Gayle grabbed my hand. “We did it,” she whispered. I smiled back, even though Gayle had next to no input on the mock-up. Aidan straightened, his face lit. “We’re glad. We’ll begin work immediately.”
The call ended, and Aidan clapped his hands together loudly to quiet down our zealousness. “Great work, team. You should be pleased with yourselves.” Then he looked at me. “And we should all thank Cameron for her creativity with the idea. She’ll run point on the campaign. Cameron, I want your eye on every element of this project. This is your baby. Help her grow.”
I nodded and Gayle beamed. She really was an amazing boss. She gave me assignments and supported me, but otherwise stayed out of my hair. The best kind of boss. Aidan started in on a few other campaigns the agency was working on, potential clients, and statistics for one of the latest campaigns, but I barely listened. My body felt light from the excitement, my heart warm from a weekend I couldn’t forget.
My phone buzzed as soon as I reached my cube after the meeting, and I picked it up to find a text from my mom asking if I had received my ticket for Thanksgiving. My what? I sat down in my chair, woke up my computer, and opened Outlook. Sure enough, three unread emails down from the top sat a flight confirmation. My heart warmed at the sight of it. Thanksgiving was a month away, and I’d assumed that I would spend it in the city, my account too low to support a flight home when I’d already booked one for Christmas. But I missed my family. I missed my mom’s muffins in the morning and the smell of coffee all the way up the stairs. I missed how Eric refused to talk to you until he’d finished reading the paper, and how their cat—Sasha—hated everyone but him. Sitting back in my chair, I typed back to Mom: You’re amazing. Thank you! I’ll pay you back. Promise!
After finishing up a few emails, I started down the hall for the bathroom when I felt th
e presence of someone behind me. I fought to keep the smile from my face as I took in his telltale spicy cologne.
Aidan.
He nodded to a door to the left, a room I’d never been in before, then slipped inside. “Aidan,” I whispered after him, but he didn’t reply. My pulse sped up as I went on to the women’s room, my thoughts everywhere. Surely he wouldn’t risk something here, behind closed doors or not, but then why meet there instead of his office if this was work-related? I contemplated ignoring him, the good girl in me freaking out that we could get caught, and even talking in some random room looked suspicious, but then I stepped back into the hall, my eyes on the door. There was no one walking by, so I knocked once, and then when no one answered, glanced down the hall again and whispered his name. Once again he didn’t answer. I bit my lip, my stomach in knots, but then I thought of Aidan inside, waiting for me, and the worry was replaced with excitement.
I pushed open the door. It closed quickly but quietly behind me to expose a small meeting room with nothing more than a tiny round table, three chairs around it, and a desk with a computer on it in the far left side. A few boxes were stacked here and there that appeared to have found their final resting place. The room looked like it had once been someone’s office and was now used primarily for storage.
I turned toward Aidan, prepared to ask him what he was doing, when he placed a finger to his lips and pulled me against him, his mouth on mine before I could say another word. Mixing the Aidan I knew out of the office with Aidan, my boss, became too much, and before I could control myself, my hands were in his hair, tugging him closer, my insides awakening, begging for a repeat from the weekend.
His hands slid down my back, gripping my backside, and all I could think about was the table and whether it could support our weight. I had just decided that I was willing to take the chance when the doorknob to the room jiggled. And then the jiggling became knocking.
Oh, crap.
I jumped away from Aidan, my heart hammering away in my chest. This was it. We’d been officially together for one weekend, and now it was over. Fired. I tried to tell myself to calm down. We hadn’t been caught doing anything. We were just in an abandoned storage room. Alone. In the dark.
Forget oh crap, this was a full-out fucked.
Aidan took my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing my palm easily, his entire demeanor the very definition of calm. He mouthed that it was okay and pointed to a small door beside the desk. I mouthed back closet and he nodded. I shook my head. There was no way I could close myself inside a tiny closet without a complete claustrophobic meltdown. But this was my job on the line, and if things got bad, I could just open the door.
“Is someone in there?” a voice called from outside the door, and suddenly all the blood drained from my face, the fear of losing my job greater than the fear of suffocating. Drawing a deep breath, I opened the closet and tucked myself inside, my hand ready on the knob.
My pulse sped up as my breathing became labored, thoughts rushing through one after the other. He knew I hated small spaces; he knew what this would do to me. Anger burned through me as I listened for movement outside the door, my head throbbing now from the effort to stay quiet, to control my breathing—to keep from shouting at Aidan through the door for making me do this. Only, he wasn’t making me do anything at all. I had walked into this room. I had stepped into the closet. I had closed the door. And now my anger turned on myself, which made me all the more irritated at him.
Aidan opened the door to the room, and then his administrative assistant’s voice filled the silence. They spoke for a second, and I tried not to make a sound, not to breathe, not to exist.
I waited until there were no more voices and then slipped out of the closet to find an empty room. Aidan must have left with Dorothy, giving me the clear to leave without anyone seeing.
Reaching my cube, I pulled out my phone and texted Aidan.
What was that? We agreed to nothing on our floor, you break it, and then I’m stuck in my worst nightmare?
Immediately, a text popped up with, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken the chance.
This is my job. I can’t take risks like this. I’m not you. I don’t have the stability you have.
My phone went dark as seconds turned into a minute, and I had to suppress the urge to text again ordering him to hurry up with his reply, so I could text-yell at him some more. Then it vibrated with, I said I was sorry , and you’re not the only one taking a risk. And I’m sorry about the closet.
My anger dissipated as I realized he was right. I wasn’t the only one taking a risk. He was in this, too, and it wasn’t like he forced me to follow. I’d made the decision.
I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to yell at you.
Aidan: No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have taken the risk. Can I make it up to you?
I thought of our time together that weekend, how great it felt to be with him without worrying that someone might see. And then I remembered the conversation we had about his lack of family, him working over the holidays because he had nothing else to do. A thought occurred to me.
Come home with me for Thanksgiving.
I couldn’t imagine him here, all alone, while I was back home, laughing with my family, stuffing myself with Mom’s amazing turkey and dressing.
Aidan: We said no family or friends.
We also said nothing on our floor.
Aidan: You don’t play fair.
Is that a yes?
Rising up to peer over my cube, I saw Aidan pick up his phone, then his head turned and his gaze locked on mine. I thought maybe he’d say no, that he’d say it was too much, we weren’t serious. But then a grin broke across his face and my phone pinged with a new text, his eyes never leaving mine.
All right, but I think we need a new set of rules.
Chapter Eighteen
Our flight landed in Birmingham at just after two the day before Thanksgiving. Two antianxiety pills, a new book on my Kindle, and Aidan’s hand in mine kept my nerves in check so I could fly without my claustrophobia sending me into fits. Thankfully, I had a few days on the ground before I had to repeat it all over again to return back home.
I half expected Mom to have sent one of my cousins, her baking away at home, but then I saw her there, her eyes filling with tears. She rushed up to me and I let her hug me too tight and kiss each of my cheeks with her bloodred lipstick. Only my mother would put on lipstick just to go to the airport. Like always, her blond hair was cut into a shaggy bob, à la Meg Ryan. She refused to try a different style, and I had long since learned to stop asking her. Eric smiled over at me. My stepdad was nearly six five and built like a lineman. For an old man, he was as intimidating as they came.
“How was the flight?” He didn’t try to hug me. Eric had been my father figure for more years than my actual father, but he refused to push. He waited for me to come to him, something I had always respected about him. But before I could hug him, his eyes traveled past me, and he straightened, protective father taking over. They knew Aidan was coming, but knowing wasn’t the same as seeing him here.
Mom pulled away from me, noticing Aidan standing behind me. He’d remained a few steps back, allowing us to have our reunion in private. But now, my parents’ eyes were both on him, Mom’s full of intrigue, Eric’s uneasy.
“Mom, Eric, this is Aidan. He’s a friend of mine from work.” We’d decided to keep the boss thing to ourselves for now, sure it would only complicate things, and besides, they wouldn’t see him again, so what did it matter?
Mom blinked away her questioning expression, then broke into her telltale charismatic self. Aidan reached out a hand to her, but Mom was a hugger all the way and instead wrapped her arms around him and squeezed lightly before stepping away. “We’re so glad to have you here.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lawson. Cameron talks about you all the time.”
Mom eyed me, clearly curious what the story was between Aidan and
me. “Paterson, actually.”
“Oh, I…” Aidan turned to me. “I’m sorry. Of course Lawson would be…”
Mom waved a hand through the air. “Don’t fret. And please, call me Lorelei.”
I smiled reassuringly to him, wishing I had remembered to mention that my mother’s last name wasn’t the same as mine, but relieved all the same to see the tension relaxing from around his eyes. As crazy as my family could get, we were still a family, and Aidan shouldn’t have to miss out on a traditional Thanksgiving celebration just because his father was a jerk.
“Well, let’s get on,” Eric said. “Your aunts will be over any minute now to ‘help.’”
“When are you going to leave them alone?” Mom said, and they settled into one of their arguments about my mom’s sisters, her claiming they had good intentions, and Eric claiming they came over just to gossip. (He was right.)
I grinned as I listened, and then noticed Mom veer toward a black Tahoe. Not at all the old red truck Eric had for most of my childhood. “Don’t tell me she forced you to get rid of Judith?” Eric liked to name his cars old-woman names. I used to tell him he should choose something hot like Candy, but he said he wanted something dependable, and women named Candy were anything but dependable.
He sighed. “She broke down once, and that was the end of it. Your mother refused to ride in Judith again, which might sound nice, except I like her to keep me company on occasion.”
I smiled at Mom. “So you bought a Tahoe so Mom would keep you company? How romantic.”
Eric shrugged. “I’ll be alone when I’m dead, and there are very few people I like. What can I say? I prefer to keep the people I like close.”
“Alone when you’re dead, huh? Better not tell Pastor Wilkins you said that.”
He laughed. “Yeah, well, it’ll be our little secret.”
Aidan placed our bags in the back of the Tahoe and opened my door, earning a grin from Mom. Then she slipped into the seat beside me. “You sit up front, Aidan. Stretch those long legs.”
