Page 112 of Done with You

He shrugged and one side of his mouth hitched up, revealing half a dimple. But even that half a dimple had her knees getting gelatinous. “Jordan’s my brother. I want to see him happy just as much as you want to see Rayma happy.”

Right. Jordan was Aiden’s brother. For a second there when he was volunteering for things and coming up with ideas, she thought he was doing this all for Rayma. But he was doing it for his little brother, too. He was taking care of his younger brother just like Oona and her sisters were taking care of Rayma.

They held eye contact for a long time. Neither of them saying anything.

They didn’t really talk last night. At least not in the conventional way. Their bodies talked. Their bodies talked a lot, and actually got along pretty well. But she was seeing a change in the man in front of her. He was evolving. She still wanted to know about his epiphany last night and the question sat on the back of her tongue like a petulant wad of peanut butter.

But it wasn’t her place.

They were in a truce right now.

A weird, sex-truce, and she didn’t want to rock the boat by asking him to open up. She’d shut that door when she declined seeing him as a client. She couldn’t go and open it up now, not if she wanted things to remain amicable—and sexy—between them.

“I uh … I think maybe we should talk about last night,” he finally said.

Crap.

Exhaling through her nose, she busied herself by making the bed and tidying up her stuff. “Okay.”

Was he going to say it was a mistake? Because she already knew that.

He was the last person she should be getting tangled up with, but it was temporary. She kept telling herself that. Temporary was okay.

She had no future with this man.

She was not falling back into old patterns. Not really.

She wasn’t trying to fix him and she wasn’t getting attached.

She just really liked parts of his body and the way they made parts of her body feel.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer,” he started.

She paused with a hair elastic on her fingers, half her hair up as she was getting ready to put it in a ponytail. “What offer?”

“Back at your office. You said that you thought we had a connection and even though you couldn’t see me as a client, you’d like to see me as … more. I’d like that, too. I’d like for us to go on a proper date when we get back to Montreal.”

Her bottom jaw went slack.

“I need to go to counseling. I understand that now. And I know it can’t be you. And I’m going to anger management, too. But … I like you. Even though we butt heads, I like you. You challenge me. You make me want to be a better person. A better version of myself. And I’d like to see where this goes. Beyond our time here.”

She blinked at him, her arms and hair still paused as the shock had yet to wear off.

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance,” he went on. “I’m probably the last person in the world that deserves one, but …” He shrugged. “I’m hoping in the spirit of Christmas, maybe you’ll give me one, anyway?”

“Aiden …” She exhaled and finished tying up her hair. “I don’t understand.”

“You and me. Let’s do this,” he said, excitement filling his voice.

She shook her head slowly, regret and guilt creating a sick lather in her belly. “No. I … I thought we had an understanding? A truce. We’re having fun right now, because we’re finally—sort of—getting along. At least with our clothes off. But …” If she told him this just felt like lip service, he’d probably lose his mind and they’d set themselves so far back. But that’s exactly what it felt like.

She knew he was undergoing a transformation, had possibly crawled to Jesus on his hands and knees, but right now, she felt a desperation about him that didn’t feel genuine. Like he was telling her what he thought she wanted to hear, not what she needed to hear.

And Russell had showed her on more than one occasion that saying you were going to get help and actually getting the help you needed were two different things. He paid her so much lip service it became white noise. He always promised he’d quit drinking, then he’d go to an AA meeting, be sober for a week, and fall right back off the wagon. He ran off any sponsor that tried to help him, and eventually just stopped trying altogether.

So she knew better than to believe before she saw. A promise was just words. Actions and doing the work was what made the difference.

But she was a smart enough woman, and knew this man well enough now, to tread carefully with her words. “Let’s, uh, let’s table this until after the wedding, okay? We’re in a good place right now, getting along and working together for our siblings. Let’s focus on them, okay? We can talk more about this later.” She smiled, but it was one of those fake, closed-mouth, slightly flat smiles that stayed on only the lower half of her face.

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