Page 49 of Falling for the Wrong Guy

ChapterThirty-One

Dex

Ichecked my phone the second I opened my eyes. I turned off the annoyingly loud alarm and squinted at the bright screen. No calls from Angie, which was a good thing. No calls or texts from Aria, which was a bad thing. Was something wrong? Did she finally come to her senses and realize I wasn’t worth the effort?

I got cleaned up and dressed for work, assuming I still had a job. I opened a can of sardines for Gus and set them on the railing. He hopped down from the wheelhouse and started his breakfast. The fog seemed to be parting earlier than usual this morning for a change. I loved living near the ocean and the coast, but fog always made it hard to start the day.

I pulled on my coat and climbed up on the dock. A light was on in Oscar’s cabin. I could see him hunched over a newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand. He’d been living out here on a boat for years. I’d been living on the boat for three months, but I was already getting tired of it. And the weather would only get worse from here on out.

I walked with heavy footsteps toward the café. Nothing was working out the way I hoped. Aria had been the one bright spot, but even that one bright spot had been found through a tangled web with my brother. He was right. I only knew how to make a mess of things. I spotted Aria walking from the other direction. I was amazed at how familiar she was already, the smooth sway of her hips as she strolled along on those long legs, that luster-filled copper hair that changed colors according to the light and the sure way she carried herself, always in charge.

I quickly told myself she hadn’t returned my call or text because she was busy last night. But those few moments of trying to make myself feel better were dashed the instant we met at the door. “Morning,” she said coldly without looking at me.

“Morning,” I said hesitantly.

She unlocked the door, and I followed her inside, even though I wasn’t entirely sure she wanted me to. She spun around before we got five feet into the café. She still couldn’t look me in the eye and instead glanced to the side and pretended to adjust a salt shaker on the counter. “I’m not sure this is going to work out.”

I let her words hang in the air for a second, mostly so I could absorb them. “May I ask why? Is it my cooking skills? Or is itus?”

She started taking off her coat, and that was when I caught a quiver in her bottom lip.

“I think I should at least hear a reason,” I said.

“You’re right. It’s us. We shouldn’t have started this. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I moved closer and was heartbroken when she took a step back as if I repelled her. “You were thinking the same thing as me—maybe this could be something.”

Aria turned away again. “I was wrong.”

“I guess so. I’ll be on my way then.” I turned to leave.

“Your family deserves better,” she said sharply.

I stopped and turned back to her. “My family? You mean Kellan?”

“Not that family. I mean your other family.”

I pulled the beanie off my head in case it was affecting my hearing. “Myotherfamily? I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

She huffed loudly. “Oh, for goodness’ sake—I drove to the town of Fairview yesterday afternoon to buy some spices at a local shop, and lo and behold there you were on the sidewalk with your—your family.”

It was ill-timed, but I still couldn’t stop the laugh. “You mean Angie and Max.”

“I don’t need to hear names. He looks very sweet, by the way.”

“He is, and he is a hundred percent not mine.”

She blinked those big brown eyes at me. “Not yours?”

I shook my head. “Angie is Quinn’s wife, and Max is their little boy.”

“Quinn’s wife and son?” The confidence in her posture and tone shrank back … a lot.

“That’s right. Not my family. My best friend’s family.”

She dropped her face and walked to the back. I stood still in the front of the café, wondering if I should follow or just write this one off as another one of life’s failures. I’d had more than my share of them. But none that meant this much to me. Aria had already gotten that deep into my heart.

She was standing in the middle of her kitchen, again avoiding eye contact.

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