Page 47 of Married to Number 22
Because if Istartthinking then I’ll start panicking and then where will I be?
Running the other way so I don’t mess up Aiden’s life?
Letting go of this boy, this man, a completely different kind of dream?
I exhale, shoring myself up, even as I know that I’m not going to walk away, that I’m going through with his plan anyway.
Because I want to change things at Smythe.
And because…I want Aiden for however long he lets me have him. I want to stock up on memories, store them away for later, for when I’m alone again, for when the Maybelle Curse strikes.
“He knows the truth,” I whisper to my reflection.
And he came up with the plan.
He and the Grizzlies are playing in Vegas tomorrow, having flown there directly after their home game last night. Today he’s picking up a marriage certificate after practice then will meet me at the airport. We’ll hit his hotel room, get changed, and then…do the ultimate Vegas thing?—
Get married by Elvis.
Then lawyers and stocks and Smythe and…soaking up all that is Aiden.
Well, the last part is my addition.
The rest of it—all him. And it all sounded so simple when he brought it up, an easy checklist to make our way through.
Until I remembered what would eventually happen.
The Maybelle Curse.
Why me letting him go years ago wasn’t purely selfless—yes, he needed the freedom to pursue his dreams, but also yes, it’s only a matter of time before it all goes wrong…same as it’s gone wrong for every woman in my family.
I close my eyes, shove that away.
I don’t want to think about having to let him go. Back to his life.
To his family.
Don’t want to think about being alone again.
“Ugh,” I mutter, stabbing the wand of my mascara into the tube and twisting with vigor. It makes me feel better, at least until I hear an ominous crack. I freeze. God, I don’t need to be wasting money on stupid shit right now, especially after I bought a plane ticket (refusing to let Aiden purchase one for me) and a dress and…a likely ill-advised scrap of fabric the purports to be lingerie.
But everything with Aiden is complicated.
The one thing that isn’t?
Sex.
That’s simple and feels good—okay, it feelsgreat—and it’s something I can give him that isn’t going to be a pain in the ass.
No complications.
Just the two of us.
So maybe the lingerie was less ill-advised and more…leaning into the things that make sense.
Shaking my head at myself, I carefully loosen the lid of my mascara and focus on the present.
On real life.
