Page 69 of Married to Number 22
My stomach is in knots.
“Enough,” I whisper.
But it’s not that easy to shove the emotions down. Even when I try to remind myself that Aiden is doing me a favor, that this isn’t that serious.
Do you honestly think that now that you’re back in my life I’m going to ever let you go again?
Right. Not serious.Sure.
Groaning, I slam the door on my swirling thoughts and vow that I’m not going to make things more complicated for him.
We’re…friends.
Who give each other lots of orgasms.
And who get married so I can fulfill my crazy grandmother’s edict on my quest to try and do something good in this world.
Simple, right?
Sighing, I sit back in my chair, my hands resting lightly on my middle, the ring Aiden bought me glittering on my left hand. I turn it from side to side, watching it sparkle in the overhead lights, and sigh again.
Because I know what Aiden’s givingme…
But again…what am I going to give him that’s even remotely worthy in return?
Orgasms only go so far, and it’s not like I bring much to the table aside from drama and complications. God knows that even my family slots into those categories— what with Gram’s will and my dad and brother being their usual vindictive selves.
It’s only going to get worse too.
Because once they find out that the shares are going to be mine, they’re going to get nasty. And then it won’t just be showing up and demanding I come to board meetings, it will be attacks and lawyers and incursions at all hours of the day and night as they try to get me to back down.
“But that’s not tonight,” I whisper, dropping my hands to the desk. A few taps on my keyboard and clicks of the mouse has my file saved and my computer shutting down and then I’m snagging my purse from the bottom drawer.
The way I see it, I have two big issues—my brother and father, and the fact that I have no way to pay Aiden back for marrying me.
I don’t even really know who he is anymore—outside of the big stuff that is.
I know he’s kind and good and prefers vanilla cake and frosting over the plethora of other delicious options there are out there. I know he loves his family and cares for his friends and will always go the distance for them.
Case in point?
Me.
But what are the small things that make him tick? What wishes does he hold dear, hoping they’ll work out some day? Does he want a dog? A cat? A hamster? Where does he want to travel? Or is he sick of all the plane rides and bus trips and would prefer to have a staycation instead?
Is a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich still his favorite meal? Or has his palate grown and changed and he likes something like blinis with beluga caviar?
I snort because I think that no matter how many years have passed, Aiden will never be the type of man who prefers caviar over white bread and Jif peanut butter and Smucker’s strawberry jelly.
Nostalgia reigns supreme.
The past is important to him.
It doesn’t rule his present, but it certainly impacts his future—it’s in the pictures on his walls and the memories he’s shared, and…the way he opened his home and heart and ring finger to me.
I toss my purse over my shoulder, shove back my chair, and move to the door, flicking out the lights to my office.
It’s those thoughts that are running through my mind as I wave goodbye to our security guard—more volunteers, these being off-duty police officers who take turns keeping an eye on things to ensure those seeking shelter here are protected.
