Page 27 of Friend Zoned

“Your sister Katherine Walsh the CEO?” I start to giggle.

“The one and the same,” he says.

“Sure. The next time you talk to her, tell her I want the director of excellence job, but for now, tell me about how you grew up.” I clear my throat hoping to change the subject.

“Typical story. I’m the youngest of two children. Katherine is four years older, and we grew up with both parents. They divorced when I went to college, they remarried four years later and divorced again. And get this. They married and divorced after that. That’s right. My parents married and divorced each other three times. They couldn’t stand to be in the same room for a few years after the last divorce, but since my dad had a heart attack recently, they are civil to each other now.”

He finishes talking and downs his wine in one gulp before picking up the bottle of white to refill mine, but I shake my head.

“Really?” I say, surprised. “That sounds interesting. I can’t imagine a world where my parents would get divorced. I hope not. My mom would be fine, but either my dad would die in a month, or he’d have to move in with me. I don’t want either of those things to happen.”

He leans back and laughs. “He’d substitute you for your mom, and you’d be the one taking care of the helpless man-baby,” he says.

“Exactly. The monster that she created. No thanks,” I say. I finish my wine and reach for the water. “So, what did your parents do—” His phone rings and he practically jumps out of his chair before shooting across the kitchen to pick it up.

“Give me a sec, Jeannie. It’s work.” He leaves the room, and I hear his footsteps all the way down the hall until I hear a door close.

I shrug, turn back to my food and finish my short ribs. Aiden’s plate still has chicken on it, so I pick up his fork and eat a piece. I eat some more and sip from his water bottle. I imagine this is what we’d do if we were more than friends, but I’m not looking for anything more than friendship right now.

A few minutes later, I put down the fork when I hear his approaching heavy footsteps.

“I see you’ve eaten all your food,” he says before taking his seat across from me. If he notices some of his food is missing, he doesn’t mention it, but he does look at his plate before looking back up at me and grinning. The grin turns my world off kilter, so much so that I forget to grin back. He pierces a piece of chicken with his fork and puts it to my lips.

Chapter 13

Aiden

It’s like walking through a minefield for the next half hour. The only reason I don’t have us leave the kitchen is because she keeps eating. Better yet, she keeps letting me feed her. Each time our eyes lock, she blushes. I manage to avoid questions about my parents by changing the subject or by telling her an abridged version of the truth.

“It’s hard to talk about my parents,” I tell her when she asks another question. “We’ve had our ups and downs over the years.” I throw that in and hope she won’t pry anymore tonight. “My mom lives in Vermont with her current boyfriend. She goes through them quickly. My dad and I didn’t speak for a few years because he didn’t want me to play professional basketball. We’re okay now.” All true. And it worked. She reaches over and lays a soft, dainty hand on mine. All I want to do is pick her up, put her on my lap, feed her some more, and take her upstairs to my bed.

I watched her through the security cameras while she toured the house. Seeing her lay on my bed and look through my drawers confirms all my suspicions. She wants me. Maybe she doesn’t want to want me. Maybe she’s not ready for a relationship so soon after a divorce, but she wants me. Maybe Vickie is right. All I have to do is make her feel safe and secure with me, which she is, but I have to make her believe that.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She pouts, and I want to suck that bottom lip into my mouth. “I can’t go more than a few days without talking to my parents, especially my mother. She would track me down. She threatened to file a missing person report one time when I didn’t call her for three days. I had just gotten to college and was enjoying my freedom.”

“It’s okay.” I tap the top of her hand and caress her soft skin. “Eat up.” I offer her another piece of chicken from my fork and put it to her lips. She opens her mouth and I slide it inside. I close my eyes and wish with all my might that I could slide something else through those lips.

“I come from a family where we don’t talk either. I mean we talk. We’re close, but we don’t talk about the hard stuff unless my mother is ranting about my ex-husband.” She gestures slicing her neck with her finger. “She does not like him at all.”

We talk in my family. We always have. My dad talked, ranted, and raved when I wanted to play professional basketball. He even went so far as to disown me. That only lasted three months, but our relationship was strained for years until he got over it and started coming to my games. When my career as a player ended, he was ready to welcome me into the family business with open arms, and when I didn’t conform, that put another rift between us.

My mother talks nonstop. Most of it is badmouthing my father. My sister talks about any and everything. She has zero filter.

“I’m doing things differently from now on,” she says, pulling me out of my thoughts about my parents and their dysfunctional dynamic.

“Oh, yeah? Tell me something you’re going to do differently,” I challenge, happy to move on to a new topic.

“Like I told you the other night, during and after my divorce, I decided I was never going to date again, but that would give Quintin too much power. I’m starting again next year on February fifteenth.” When I stare and wait for more info, she says, “After Valentine’s Day. I don’t need all that pressure.”

“Makes sense,” I say to get her to continue talking.

“I’m going to be sexy. A temptress.” She shakes her shoulders. If she gets any sexier, the men of New York are screwed. “Get this.” She lowers her voice. “When I wear button down shirts, I’m going to have the top three buttons undone instead of two. There will also be come hither looks from across the room. Something like this.” She tilts her head to the side and wiggles her eyebrows. She pouts her lips and blows a kiss across the room, and I almost come undone in my seat. “I’m going to take it slow, but whatever man I have a relationship with next is going to know my love language.”

Katherine’s mentioned love language to me before, and now I’m grateful I actually paid attention to her that time.

“What is it?” I ask Jeannie. This I want to know. I need to know. I make a mental note to send Chastain’s wife an edible arrangement for her advice about sticking to the friend zone.

“Easy. It’s physical touch. Hand holding or a hand on the small of my back. Sitting close while we watch a movie. Things like that. I didn’t get any of that in my marriage. No affection. Nothing. But I didn’t demand it. I’m going to do that upfront next time. And words of affirmation. I need that. This isn’t a love language, but I need to be able to have fun with him. I didn’t have any fun in my marriage. I told myself it was because he was busy in law school, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t right.”

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