Page 61 of Falling for You Again

He shakes his head. “I came home first, and when you weren’t here, I drove to your old apartment, then to Stone & Bloom on the off chance you were there. I’ve been trying to reach you. You aren’t answering my calls.”

“I silenced my phone.” It’s probably why I missed Emi’s text. She would have warned me Aaron stopped by the showroom and was on his way here.

“I figured.” His arms drop to his sides when he notices the pile of my clothes on his bed. I’m trying to fit everything into my sole piece of luggage and the laundry basket I brought over. Blueberry’s carrier is also out. I want to bring everything back to my apartment in one trip.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Packing. I’m leaving as soon as I finish here.”

“Why?”

“My uncle gave me Artisant. There’s no longer a reason for me to stay.” Aaron might have been enough of a reason, but he deceived me by not telling me about the building. Who knows what else he hasn’t told me. I hate that I started to care for him, maybe even fall in love with him. To thinkI almost lost Artisant Designs—that I still could lose the shop—because of him. (Yes, I’m putting him in the same bucket as his family. They all work for the Savant House.) Thank goodness I insisted on an opt-out clause.

Aaron’s face crumples. But his expression quickly flattens until it’s unreadable.

“I want a divorce,” I announce.

He goes very still. “Why?”

“We promised no questions asked if one of us wants out.”

“I know. Just”—he takes a breath—“tell me why. Please.”

“You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Meli. I have no reason to.”

“Then you deceived me. Savant bought Uncle Bear’s building. That’s why he was selling the shop. It’s the building your company has wanted all along. The shop and I were just the side deals.”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” he argues, coming into the room. He stops opposite the bed from me. “Don’t sell yourself short, Meli.”

“You knew about the building, and you deliberately kept that information from me.”

“I honestly thought you knew.”

“You never brought it up.”

“Neither did you.”

We glare at each other. I hold the shirt I’m folding to my chest like a plate of armor.

Aaron sighs. “I’m sorry. I just assumed it was common knowledge. My mistake. A building is just a building. You can take Artisant Designs anywhere.”

“It’s not just a building, not to me. It’s the only place where I feel like I have a family. We lose that building, I lose what little time my parents are willing to give me of themselves. You saw them when we went to my apartment. They hardly speak to me. Now they can ignore me completely as if they never had a daughter.”

Aaron falls quiet for a long stretch. We stare at each other. I look away first to resume packing, but he says, “I’ll be your family. If you’ll have me.”

His words puncture my heart. “Aaron.” The shirt slips from my fingers to bunch on the bed. I take a long look at him. He doesn’t hide what he’s feeling. The slight pleading in his eyes for my forgiveness. His determination to regain my trust in the subtle clench of his jaw. The small nod that he understands me. I also see his regret and despair in the vulnerable way his hands flex at his sides. He’s nervous I’ll reject him. He doesn’t want me to leave.

“Is there any way you can stop the sale?” I ask, not entirely without hope, even knowing there’s no way in hell I can afford a $4.5 million piece of property.

Aaron shakes his head. “It’s a done deal. For whatever reason, your uncle needs money fast. He insisted on a short escrow. Listen, Meli.” Aaron cautiously approaches me. “I could kick myself for never bringing up the building. I didn’t want to see that it was as important to you as Artisant Designs, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t intentionally not tell you. I was scared because I didn’t want to lose you. I knew you’d leave. Can you forgive me? Please say you’ll forgive me.” He lifts his hand as if to brush back my hair but falters, and his hand falls away.

“I hate the way I’m feeling right now, like I’ve lost everything I’ve worked so hard to hold on to. It was right there and now it’s gone. It makes me feel unworthy and useless and lost, and I hate this feeling.” It’s the most vulnerable thing I’ve shared with anyone. I’m sure I’ll look back on this conversation someday and realize if I was in a different frame of mind, I’d question why it’s so easy for me to open up to Aaron, to be more honest with him than I am with myself. I’d question why he selflessly offered to be my family, as if he’s searching for one too. But I don’t have much experience with relationships or love or being in love.

“Can I show you something?” he asks.

“Show me what?”

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