Page 40 of Falling for You Again

I laugh harder. And because this is Aaron and I can’t help myself, I swirl my hips with bent arms. “The Twist!”

“Brilliant.” Aaron switches up his moves. “The Funky Chicken.” He flaps his elbows, knocks his knees together, and thrusts his chin back and forth. I’m dying, doubled over with laughter, when I feel a subtle shift inside me. I no longer feel ambivalent about my place here; rather, I feel that I’m in the right place, right alongside Aaron.

The track rolls into the next, and then the next. We dance without rhythm or care through the entire album, and when it ends, we collapse on the couch, grinning and out of breath.

I tilt my head to look up at the ceiling. “I forgot how much fun we have together.” In Maui, we played Marco Polo in the pool and made faces underwater while we snorkeled. Several times I got water up my nose because he made me laugh. I was always laughing hard with him.

“You’re fun.”

I turn my head to see Aaron watching me. My smile comes easily. “We do know how to have a good time together.”

“We do.”

A moment passes before my smile fades and a calm comes over me, a comfortable warmth stirring inside. “Do you think it’ll always be like this with us?” I ask tremulously.

Aside from Emi, Aaron is the only other person I’ve effortlessly clicked with. We get along as well as get each other. Our conversations flow, and whenever I’m around him, I feel a sense of comfort and belonging, almost as if I’ve known him forever. I felt that way when we wrote our Marriage-Material List.

And now? I feel at peace when I’m with him. But I’m also anxious, as if I’m waiting for something to come. As if I already expect this won’t work. Though I can’t pinpoint exactly what I think won’t work: Savant retracting their offer or Aaron and me. I’m too jaded to see beyond this day.

Aaron reaches for my hand. His expression turns hopeful. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

I look at our linked fingers. “Thanks for getting us to dance. It was the perfect icebreaker.”

He makes a face. “Icebreaker?”

My other hand flops around. “After everyone left it felt weird between us. Like I don’t know what we’re supposed to do here when it’s just us two, when we’re not having to prove to our families we’re happily married. Is it just me, or is this going to be weird?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

I release his hand and run my palms over my thighs. “So do we say good night now or ...” My voice drifts off. I’m terrible at balancing relationships and work. But how am I supposed to do a relationship that isn’t really a relationship?

“We could.” He holds my stare as I debate holding on to the night. It’s late and I’m tired. Tomorrow I have a long day in front of my laptop. I need to start drafting my offer to Uncle Bear and shop for business loans. I also have to get Blueberry from my apartment and pack more clothes. But am I ready to say good night? Am I ready to start treating Aaron as a roommate rather than a husband or friend? I kind of want to sink into this moment and just hang out on the sofa with him, talking. And if I’m being honest, I have time later this week to work on the plan. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow. Isadora’s table is stained and off-gassing. A few new orders came in last week. I’ll start those on Monday. I’m waiting to hear back from one client. I have a question about the bedside table’s dimensions for another. The console table—

“Where did you go?”

I stop mid-thought and grimace. “Nowhere. Just overthinking.”

“About?”

“Work. Life.”

Aaron leans back and studies me. “We have a good rapport, Meli. We get along and we talk easily. It doesn’t have to change because we’re married and agreed to keep everything separate. We’re friends.”

“We are?”

“We are. We can do stuff together.”

Yes, I want that. As long as I don’t let it distract me from my goals.

Aaron untucks his shirt and rolls up his sleeves, getting more comfortable. “Got a question? Ask me anything. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about you. I want you to know me. And I want to know you.”

I stare at him for a long moment before my eyes drop to the tattoo on his forearm. It’s his only tattoo, and I’ve been curious about it since I saw it on the plane to Vegas. Once in Maui while lounging by the pool, I asked him what the design meant. But a waiter interrupted us to take our drink order, then a couple of newlyweds drew us into a volleyball game, and well, our conversations never tracked back to his forearm. Plus, I figured since I already asked and he knew I was curious, he’d tell me if he wanted to. He hadn’t, so I didn’t bring it up again.

But since he’s inviting me to ask anything ...

I gently clasp his forearm and trace an ink line. “Tell me about this. What does it mean?”

His face goes blank, and I can tell he immediately feels uneasy. But he doesn’t pull away from me or cover the tattoo. He stares at the bird with the missing wing, falling from the intertwined branches, one of them broken. He clears his throat. “I got it after my brother died.”

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