Aiden never believed he would use the word, but Marion Bixby looked adorable.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a breathless voice when she realized that he was in the library.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he guessed, perking his brow.
Her lips curled up into a smile as she shrugged her shoulders, taking a few more steps into the room. Aiden noticed a cell phone in her hand, and he wondered if maybe she was going to make a call. But who would she call at this hour?
“Oh, you know,” she said, “I guess I’m paranoid some English guy will crawl through my bedroom window again.”
It was meant to be a joke, but Aiden stood up from his chair and said, “Never in my house will that happen to you.”
And even though it was just the two of them, the world suddenly slowed down and time seemed to stop at this very moment. It appeared to him that Marion was desperately searching his eyes for something, a sign, anything to tell her what she needed to know—though he didn’t quite know what that was—but Aiden shifted his eyes so they were fixated on her lips and he wondered for the millionth and one time what it would be like to kiss her.
But that was dangerous, so Aiden forced himself to look back into her eyes. He opened his mouth, prepared to tell her something, something he didn’t know but trusted would come naturally, when the phone in Marion’s hand began to vibrate. He watched as she closed her eyes —was that disappointment in them, or were his tired eyes deceiving him? —and looked down at her caller identification. Whoever it was warranted an answer, so the person must be someone important enough to her that she would take their call so early in the morning.
Now the question was who would call her at this hour?
“Hello?” she answered, glancing at a shelf of books.
Aiden watched her with sharp eyes, hoping her face would give away who the caller was and what they wanted. Although Marion wasn’t speaking, he saw her face pale somewhat drastically, and she swallowed once. This caused him to tense because he knew Marion wasn’t the type of woman to show weakness or surprise. She would only react in such a way if the news wasn’t good.
“Yes,” she finally said, nodding her head even though it was clear the person on the other end couldn’t see her. “Okay.” And with that, she hung up the phone and looked Aiden directly in the eyes.
“That was Taylor,” she said, her voice suddenly uncharacteristically soft. “I have to go home. I’m sorry, but I have to go home right now.”
Chapter 18
“Why would you come here to study law when you have amazing law schools back in England?” I ask after we pile into his sleek platinum-colored Mercedes-Benz.
“…What?” Aiden asks, giving me an odd look before returning his eyes to the dimly lit street.
It doesn’t surprise me that my question has thrown Aiden off. I’m sure he expects me to tell him what caused my sudden change in demeanor, why I politely demanded to be taken home. I really do plan on telling him some time before we arrive in Irvine, but right now, I would like to be distracted, to help calm my nerves and settle myself down. Because if I’m not, I seriously may have some kind of breakdown, and whether that’s mental, psychological, or emotional, I can’t say, nor do I want to take a guess. I just need to get my mind off of the problem in order to wrap my mind around it.
“I mean, compared to places like Oxford and Cambridge, and even American schools like Harvard and Stanford, UCLA seems almost like a random choice for law school,” I explain.
He’s silent for a while, and I think he’s debating on whether he’ll answer my question like nothing happened or if he’ll push me in order to tell me what’s going on. Before I left, after we woke up Hannah in order to tell her I would be leaving, I promised that I would explain everything on the way over. Hannah wanted to know what was up, but I couldn’t formulate anything into words, and since I didn’t know every single detail, I couldn’t say.
“Well,” he begins, shifting his shoulders. “Hannah has always been in love with Los Angeles and what it represents. She’s always been a dreamer and even though, as far as I know, she has no intention of going into the entertainment business, she loves that her dreams could figuratively come true in a place like LA. She loves the ocean as well, and as far as she’s concerned, the only beaches that matter are in southern California. I honestly believed she would choose to go to a school like USC or UCLA that had national acclaim and were both located in Los Angeles.
“We both came here to visit a few years ago, and Orange County was basically put on the map with shows such as The O.C. and Laguna Beach.”
“Yeah, I’m not exactly happy about those being the basis upon which Orange County is judged,” I tell him, bristling a bit. “In fact, up until The O.C. came out, I hadn’t heard of anyone referring to Orange County as the O.C.”
“Yes, well, our beloved Hannah was star-struck with Orange County,” Aiden continues. “I can’t really explain it, but what she told me after a trip was that there is just something in the air when you’re here that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. A few years later, she applied to different schools, including UCLA and UCI. She got into both, actually, and decided to go with the lesser-known school. It’s much quieter in Irvine than around UCLA, let me tell you.”
“Yeah, but you have your house,” I point out.
“Hannah has always been independent,” Aiden says. “And I guess I admit that I’ve coddled her since our parents passed. She wanted to do the college thing traditionally. But if she wanted to move to another country, I felt that I should come along with her. And I’d been looking at UCLA myself, after our trip. I might not live with her, but if she needed me, I wanted to be close enough to provide her with support. And as much as I love England, there’s just something special, almost tranquil, about UCLA’s campus….”
He lets his voice trail off and I can detect the wistfulness in his voice.
“Right,” he says after he clears his throat. “To answer your question, I chose UCLA because they do, in fact, have a good law school, I would be close to my younger sister, and I would be away from England. My parents were very well-known in my country before they died, and once they did, there was a lot of pressure and speculation regarding Hannah and I. I wanted to leave as soon as I could, but decided it would be best once Hannah finished high school. It’s refreshing to have a clean slate.”
By this time, there are tears streaming down my cheeks, and even though I’m rather silent, my shoulders shudder every now and then. When Aiden realizes I’m not about to respond, I watch him shift his eyes from the road so they’re on me.
“Um,” he begins tentatively. “Have I said anything wrong?”
The worry in his voice makes me sniffle, and as he heads onto the freeway, I realize that now would be the best time to tell him what’s been going on.
“It’s all my fault,” I say, trying to keep my voice low and controlled. I can’t help that I’m crying, but I don’t want to sound irritating and whiney. Especially since Aiden seems especially uncomfortable around me due to the fact that I am a female and I am crying.
“What is your fault?” he asks, his voice wary.
It’s not like it was a trick statement or anything.
“I—” I cut myself off and shake my head. If I’m going to tell him, I should probably give him a little background so it’s easier to understand. I take a deep breath and do my best to wipe the tears off of my face before starting. “When Taylor graduated, my mom threw a party for her. Obviously, we had to go. My mom has a tendency to invite people that have little to no bearing on the theme of the party, so my parents’ house was filled with people we didn’t really know but who my mom wanted to show off to. As a result, I hid out upstairs with my younger sisters so I wouldn’t have to deal with them.”
“And you call me antisocial?” Aiden asks. When he catches the look I’m giving him, he focuses back on the road and says, “Sorry.”
I press my lips tog
ether. “Right, well, upstairs, my two youngest sisters, Kat and Megan, twins, fifteen years old, are on Facebook, and they’re chatting with some guy. Turns out, the guy is George. And I’m like, ‘How do you guys even know George and why is he talking to you?’ To cut a long story short, George, apparently, wanted to find me on Facebook and be friends with me that way. Since I’ve been so busy these past few months, I rarely went on so I never actually answered his request, although after talking to my sisters, it turns out he wasn’t lying, he did add me right after Christmas but I just never responded.
“Anyway, since I never responded, he saw that my sisters, including Erin—who just graduated high school at the same time Taylor graduated college so she was kind of sort of overlooked—were listed, so he added all three of them, claiming that he and I were friends. Kat and Megan were over the moon. Some English guy who graduated from college and is also very attractive was talking to them. I remind you: they’re high school freshmen. Erin, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care one way or the other about George even though she did, in fact, add him as a friend. As far as I knew, Erin and George never talked.”
Okay, now was the difficult part. I can already feel my eyes start watering with more tears. I know I should be horrified that I am, in fact, crying in front of Aiden, but the reasoning behind it is so strong that it’s hard for me to actually care.
“Okay,” I begin, the word coming out slower than I originally anticipate. “Taylor was the one who called me. Back at your place, I mean. She said—” my eyes dart to my hands, resting in my lap, still clothed in Hannah’s pajama pants “—she said that George somehow convinced Erin to run off to England with him. That she went into her savings in order to buy two one-way tickets to England. That she’s going to give up Harvard and try and get into some college there.”
Suddenly, I burst out crying. I’m not exactly loud, but if Aiden was once confused about whether or not I am indulging my emotions, he knows now that I am.
“I don’t understand this,” I continue on. “I really, truly don’t. Erin is the most introverted person I know. She’s never even had a serious boyfriend. Her literary boyfriend is Edward fucking Cullen. And she blindsides the family by running away to England. Kat found the note. Erin left a note on her bed telling Mom and Dad everything. My mom is freaking out, my dad’s probably über pissed, and everyone’s worried. How can she just leave? I didn’t even know that she and George talked! I didn’t think that George was even Erin’s type!
“Fuck…,” I sniffle, sounding truly pathetic. But I don’t care. “This is all my fault. I should have told the girls about him when I first found out that he was talking to them. I mean, yeah, they probably wouldn’t have believed me or listened to me or anything, but at least I would have done, you know, my sisterly duty or whatever.”
I need to stop talking now. I need to catch my breath.
Suddenly, the car’s hot. My face is hot. I roll down the window slightly, even though we’re on the freeway. The bitterly cold air pinches my cheeks and helps calm me down, if only a little.
“This is not good,” Aiden says, and he speaks so quietly, I don’t quite hear him.
But I can’t mistake the shame in his eyes.
I thought that maybe tonight had forged some bridge between us, that we were coming around. Maybe we weren’t ready to be together in a romantic sense or anything like that, but I thought we could be friends and build up to that. At least that was my hope. But now that Erin has run away with some guy she barely knows, I can feel that hope slipping through my fingers like the sand at the beach.
Aiden Shawe has come a long way since we first met. I’m not saying I had anything to do with his change because I don’t think that; southern California gets even the stiffest of people to relax. And even though Aiden has started to do that, I don’t think he’s ready to enter into a relationship with a girl whose sister just ran off to England with a guy she barely knew, without a second thought for her family, friends, and education. As much as Aiden denies it, I’m not quite sure he can handle that sort of baggage.
Even now, the look on his face breaks my heart. It’s like he’s thinking the same thing that I am, that my visit with him could have had so much potential, except now it doesn’t even matter. Erin has ruined any hope I ever had to be with Aiden. And that kills me.
I inhale deeply, surrounding my senses with his scent. It clings tightly to the shirt he lent me because I didn’t have anything to wear to bed. I’ll probably have to return it, but at least I can wear it now. I think it even soothes me to some degree.
“I don’t even know how she’s going to pay for college,” I tell him, though I’m not sure why I’m talking in the first place. I don’t want to verbalize my worries and yet I don’t want to be left in silence with my thoughts. “I mean, Dad agreed to pay for some of Harvard, Erin promised to get a job, and the rest was going to hopefully be covered by student loans and financial aid.
“She’s never even been to England. And it’s not likely their relationship is even going to last because, hello, George Thatcher is the biggest asshole on the entire planet, and it probably won’t be long until he manages to manipulate some other poor girl. And by that time, Erin will be all alone in some country where she doesn’t know anyone….
“She must have been planning it for a while, though, because it takes a while to get a passport. What if she secretly applied to other schools? Or maybe she’s going to take the first year off and try and find some work in order to pay for college. God, I don’t know.”
I sigh, my eyes no doubt red and incredibly strained. I’m suddenly tired and I want nothing more than to crawl in my bed with Joel McHale’s face staring down at me.
“How could she do this to us?” I ask the question softly, to myself, and I’m not sure if the “us” is in relation to my family or if it’s in relation to Aiden and me.
It’s only then that I realize just how valuable Aiden is to me in this moment of crisis, because he has yet to tell me how to fix it or try and say things he thinks will make me feel better. All I need right now is this; just the fact he’s here for me, driving me home, means more to me than words can express. The fact that he has been silent and so far nonjudgmental is just another miracle and something I thank God for.
And just when I think I feel on the verge of tears once more, Aiden reaches and places his hand over mine. He still doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.
* * *
What else was he supposed to do when it concerned a crying woman? He had learned the hard way whenever Hannah came home crying, and he put the knowledge into good use. Since he clearly had no idea what to say to make her feel better, because he hardly believed there were words that could work that kind of magic, he decided to show he was still attempting to offer her support by resting his hand over hers.
At first, he didn’t like the idea at all. Aiden believed that if he touched her, Marion might get the wrong impression and think he was taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Also, he might forget that she was vulnerable in the first place. He didn’t remember the last time he had done so, and believed that the only time there was skin-on-skin contact between the two of them was when they were on the Ferris wheel, and in order to calm him down, she had held his hand.
Marion had been there for him in the most desired way. So he hoped that he could do the same for her.
In all honesty, Aiden had no idea what to think in regards to what happened. George Thatcher had always been, quite frankly, a douchebag, but now that he was injuring someone other than Aiden and his pride, Aiden felt more protective, and if it was possible, even more upset now than when he had walked in on Vespa and George together. Seeing someone as strong and as bubbly as Marion cry because George had not only hurt her, but he was literally taking her sister away from Marion and her family, inspired him to want to make everything better.
He just didn’t know how. Well, actually….
By the time his id
ea began to bloom, he had arrived at the apartment Marion shared with Taylor.
“Would you like me to walk you up?” he asked her, turning off the engine and giving her his full attention.
Though she wasn’t crying right now, he could see her red eyes, the tear-stained cheeks. He hated the sad look on her face.
“No, you don’t have to do that,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You’ve already done enough.” Without warning, she threw her arms around him, and although it was somewhat awkward, proceeded to envelop him in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. Surprisingly enough, Aiden felt himself respond, and wrapped his arms around her as well as he could, considering their position. And even though both wanted to stay that way for a very long time, the hug lasted only momentarily. As she broke apart, she kissed his cheek for a fleeting moment before getting out of the car.
Aiden waited until he saw Marion slip into her apartment before flipping open his cell phone and dialing a familiar, though rarely used, number. Due to the fact that England was eight hours ahead of California, he knew that the two people he wanted to reach would be easily available.
“Barclays Bank, how may we serve you today?”
“Yes, hello,” Aiden said once the teller answered. “My name is Aiden Shawe and I’m going to need to transfer some funds into an account. My bank account number is….”
Once he hung up, he looked down at his phone. There was one other person he knew he would have to call, but this person would be substantially more difficult talking to, only because he had a good amount of pride he would have set aside in order to do so. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and once he realized just who he was doing this for, he found the number easier to type in and even easier to press the call button.
Four Sides of an Attitude: A Cufflinks & Austen Novel Page 17
