“How is that possible, when you’ve told me that such a thing is impossible?” I ask, pushing my brows up.
“You do realize Aiden has a woman back in England, do you not? Now what do you have to say?”
“If that’s true,” I say, ignoring the painful beating of my heart, “then there is no way he would ever proposition me.”
“You selfish girl!” she exclaims. “Vespa is the perfect woman for Aiden. Both come from an equal, upper class setting. Both are highly educated. Both are English. Do you think that Aiden would leave all that for a woman whose own sister ran off with some man to England? Thank God your father had that savings or who knows what she’d be doing? Your family never ceases to amaze me with the scandal you all cause.” She shakes her head. “And now you think you will taint the pureness of Aiden’s estate with your trash? Tell me once and for all whether you are in a relationship with him or not.”
“I am not.” I’m not exactly sure why I’m not letting her have it after she insulted my family and myself, because if anybody else talked to me that way, I would be going off. But I think it’s the words that have come out of her mouth, that she doesn’t want me with her nephew due to things I can’t control, just like Aiden. And she says them like it’s not supposed to hurt me. Like it’s some sad sort of fact.
My admittance seems to have caught her off-guard because it takes her a moment to respond.
“And will you promise never to engage in a relationship with him if he should ever lose his mind and decide to ask in the future?” she asks me.
“I won’t do that now and I won’t do that ever.” I can feel the tears well up in my eyes, but I do my best to blink them back. The last thing I ever want to do is cry in front of this woman. “I don’t think I’ve ever been insulted in every possible way, but thank you, for helping me understand what that feels like. You can’t have anything left to say, so I must ask you to leave.”
I walk over to the front door and open it, standing next to it only to further emphasize my point.
“Good night,” I add, tilting my head down.
“I have never been treated so disrespectfully in my entire life,” the dragon tells me as she leaves. “I can only thank the good Lord that Aiden has not, nor will he ever be with you.”
I shut the door, restraining myself from slamming it behind the woman. I may not like her, but I don’t want her to have a heart attack or anything. I push my back against the door and allow the tears to slip down my face now that I’m alone; now that I’m safe here.
I cannot believe that the woman had the gall to come to my home and say those things she said. Just who does she think she is, anyway? And I would have to have a serious conversation about Kelly’s boyfriend and his big fat mouth. I know Kelly would never tell the dragon those things about my family, but I’m sure Paul would, especially if he heard it from his equally judgmental parents who happen to be my parents’ neighbors. I have no idea how I could have even come up among their discussions, but apparently I had.
I wonder if Paul started the rumor, or if the dragon was so worried at the prospect that Aiden and I might be involved romantically that her mind started to assume things that aren’t true. Because no matter how badly I want it to be otherwise, Aiden and I aren’t together. And we probably would never be.
I head back into my bedroom and am glad that Taylor doesn’t question me about what happened between the dsragon and me. The wounds are too new to discuss, and I don’t want to hurt more than I already do. After changing into my pajamas, I slide into bed and do my best to fall asleep.
And yet, no matter how hard I try, my mind is too busy, my thoughts are too loud, so that no matter how long I keep my eyes closed, no matter what sort of fantasies I play out in my head, I’m awake. And not drowsy, somewhat tired awake, but really, really awake. When midnight rolls around, I can clearly hear Taylor’s steady breathing, indicating that she had no trouble falling asleep. And why would she? Taylor has a love she can hold onto, a love that loves her no matter what.
My love has me staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks, wishing the next day would just arrive. A new day is one day closer to moving on, and moving on is something desirable. Especially when I’ve had my uncontrollable flaws thrown in my face as reasons why I’m so imperfect for the only guy I’ve ever really wanted.
Is it wrong to feel sorry for myself, just a little bit? Or have I reached the age where I’m supposed to handle such a thing with maturity and dismissal? I’m not sure.
I still haven’t found an answer by the time the sun starts to rise. I glance at my clock and see that it’s just after five o’clock in the morning. With that comes this urge to be out of the apartment, away from my sleepless night, even away from my Joel McHale wall. I’m hoping the bitter cold will calm me down, if only slightly. I change into loose jeans and a sweatshirt, slipping on my sandals and braiding my hair so it rests over my right shoulder. I scrawl a note for Taylor in case she wakes up to find me gone, grab my keys, and leave.
Breathing in clean air and exhaling so my breath is visible makes me feel fresh. I can already tell that it’s going to be a beautiful day, and the pain that has consumed me all night starts to fade away. Just a little, but still.
I can do this. I’ll get through it. It’ll hurt, but I’ll get through it because I have to.
My feet lead me to a nearby park which is located right across the street from a high school. The park is clean and empty, save for the early morning joggers. Of course, considering that I grew up with Mile Square Park—a much bigger place with more things to do—this isn’t all that amazing, but it gives me what I need; a safe place to walk around by myself.
After an hour of walking around, I decide it’s time to head home and shower. It’s still misty, but the sun is peeking through the cracks, and I decide that no matter what happens, today will be a good day.
As I make my way, I can see a tall silhouette through the mist. My feet stop abruptly. I haven’t seen someone that tall since Aiden, and it looks like this person is heading in my direction. The way he walks, the way his shoulders move. And then I make out dark hair, a pale face, and familiar blue eyes.
My heart jumps in my throat.
What is Aiden doing here? I was doing so well, trying to talk myself into thinking positively, into moving forward, and I almost got there too. Until now. Until my eyes catch sight of him. We both stop walking when we’re a couple of feet from each other, and it’s only then that I remember just how horrible I look, considering I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone, let alone Aiden Shawe.
“Your sister told me that you would be here,” he tells me in his familiar, bell-like voice.
How I’ve missed the sound.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say in a small voice.
“I couldn’t either.” He shifts his weight, glancing to the side before returning them into mine. “My aunt….”
I smile wryly, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah, she was here,” I say.
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “If there’s anything I can do to make up for her deplorable behavior….”
“After what you’ve done for Erin and for, I assume, Taylor as well, I’m the one who should be making things up to you.”
Okay, I’m not okay. I can’t do this. Not when he’s looking at me that way with those eyes. Is it so wrong to want him to wrap me up in his arms and kiss me softly on the lips, to tell me he loves me, to tell me that he wants to be with me? I know that I’m not perfect. I get it. And coming from wealth, Aiden probably is expected to be with a certain type of girl. But I know that if he just gives me a chance, I could make him happy.
But maybe that’s it. Maybe I can’t make him happy. And if that’s the case then I would have to move on. I don’t want him to be with me if he doesn’t want to be. I could move on if it’s what he wanted. It would hurt, but I could let him go.
“You must know,” he says, taking me by surprise. “All of it was for you
.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper. I think I may even be begging. I don’t want to hear this right now, not when I’ve barely patched up my resolve.
“When my aunt stopped by my home last night,” he continues, “she told me what the two of you talked about. And as ridiculous as it sounds, though my aunt doesn’t like you, it was she who caused me to hope….” He let his voice trail off, but only for a short moment. “I promise I will never bother you again if your feelings for me remain unchanged. My feelings for you, on the other hand, are the same.”
He takes a tentative step forward, but his eyes aren’t as hesitant as his actions are. “But if, however, your feelings have changed….” He swallows and reaches out, his fingertips touching my cheeks softly. “I must tell you that I am yours. You have me, Marion. You have everything I am, every inch of my being, and I love…I love…I love you. And I want to be with you from this moment forward.”
“I, uh.” Yes, that is my very clever, very romantic response.
Because, quite frankly, I have no idea what to say. All I know is how I feel, and right now, I feel elated. I feel like I can fly. I feel like the world around me and around Aiden is falling away so it’s just the two of us, and that’s okay because nothing else matters. Just us and….
Okay, Bixby, breathe. Just breathe.
And before I can stop myself, I push up onto my toes and place my lips gently on his. The kiss is soft and chaste, but it’s tender and it’s perfect and I never want to part from him, either.
But when breathing becomes an issue, I pull back, my entire face red and not because the cold is pinching my cheeks.
“I’m sorry—” Before I can finish, he places his index finger over my lips, stopping me from speaking.
“No,” he whispers, his lips dangerously close to the corner of my own. “Don’t ever apologize for kissing me. In fact, I hope you wouldn’t mind doing that again and again and maybe one more time after that.”
He kisses the corner of my lips, the tip of my nose, and then finally my lips. And this particular kiss is much more passionate than the previous one. Although, I feel as though there’s something I’m forgetting—
“I love you too,” I murmur against his lips, cutting the kiss shorter than I anticipated it being. “You said it to me, and I just wanted you to know that I’m in love with you.”
“Are you quite through? Because I would very much like to go back to kissing you now.”
“You’re a funny guy, Aiden. Here I am, confessing my love for you and all you can think about is—”
He interrupts me again, but instead of his finger, he uses a much more devious thing, something I can’t resist. He kisses me yet again.
* * *
“Has hell frozen over, Ronnie?” my father asks me in his study. It’s September now, and I have actually consented to bringing Aiden home to meet my family. “UCLA, Ronnie? UCLA? What is it with my daughters and UCLA? First Taylor, and now you? I thought you would know better.”
“What can I say, Dad?” I ask as I shrug my shoulders. “Opposites attract and all that.”
“You’re quoting love advice from Paula Abdul now?”
He shakes his head and leans back in his chair so he can get a better look at Aiden through his half-open doorway. I turn my head over my shoulder to look at my boyfriend as well. He’s wearing jeans and a UCLA jersey, probably not the best outfit to wear to a parental meeting due to my father’s absolute loathing of the Bruins, but I didn’t try and stop Aiden, if only because I’ll be rubbing it in his face when USC kicks ass.
“Well, your mother seems to be smitten with him.”
This much is true. My mother is sitting next to him and looking at him with sunshine in her eyes. I think it’s because she can’t believe I’ve ended up with anyone, let alone Aiden Shawe. I still haven’t told her just how wealthy Aiden is because I don’t want her scaring my boyfriend off, although my mother seems to possess that talent all on her own, without any tidbits of information from me.
“But not nearly as much as you are.” My father smiles, causing him to look years younger. “It’s in the way you look at him, Ronnie. And I can see that by the way he looks at you, he’s crazy about you. Well, I certainly like him better than that George Thatcher, even though he and Erin are still, surprisingly, together. She seems to like Oxford, by the way.”
“That’s not all that surprising,” I point out.
“Dad!” Kat shouts from the living room. “The game’s about to start.”
“Be right there!” my father informs everyone before looking back at me. “You know, Ronnie, I still don’t think anyone deserves you…but I guess I’ll have to give this Brit a chance.” He stands up. “Even if he does go to UCLA.”
I smile and lead my father out of his study and into the living room where I take a seat next to Aiden.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Aiden says. “I wouldn’t want you to miss one second of UCLA handing USC their arses. I didn’t think American football could be as amusing at is with you.”
“Why am I with you again?” I ask him in a droll voice.
“Because you can’t resist me and my deliriously good looks?”
“That must be it.”
He grins, gives me a quick kiss on my cheek, and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him.
And it’s then that I understand what Taylor meant when she said that love isn’t supposed to make sense. It’s nonsensical, kind of like swimming in rain: by the time you touch the water with your toes, the rain already has you soaking wet, but that doesn’t stop you from jumping in anyway.
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Acknowledgments
My family
My friends
Jane Austen, for crafting swoon-worthy stories
Theresa Schultz, my amazing and hilarious editor.
My readers on Fictionpress
Frank, Kylee & Madisyn, Josh & Jacob, for your continued love, support, and understanding
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Four Sides of an Attitude: A Cufflinks & Austen Novel Page 20
