Page 9 of Married to Number 22
“I did,” he murmurs.
“I amsoproud of you.”
A blip of quiet, his arms tightening slightly, and I don’t miss the slight flush that appears on his cheeks, the hint of red that is just as adorable now as it was when we were teenagers. “Thanks, Luns,” he says softly, and then—of course he does—he changes the subject from himself.
Humble.
Sweet.
But a boy destined for much greater things than me.
Then,Luns, why the fuck are you here with that stupid contract that means nothing in hand—at two o’clock in the morning—on his damned birthday?
Desperation.
But my desperation isn’t so great as to fuck up Aiden’s life.
This was crazy, coming here at all.
I knew that, but…
This isAiden.
No. I’m not going to do this, not with him, not ever.
“Finish your cupcake,” I tell him, carefully extracting myself from his hold, going back to mine. He lets me go, and I hate the blips of hurt, of longing, of despair ricocheting through my middle that turn my insides to ribbons as I move away.
This is pretty much the best way this all could have gone—he didn’t kick me out, didn’t call the police, didn’t…
Have a woman in his bed demanding to know who the hell I am.
Right. Yeah.
That would have been worse.
“How did it happen?” he asks between bites.
How did I get here with my life in shambles, barely making it paycheck to paycheck, the one thing I cared about from my fucked up childhood about to be shredded to pieces?
The Maybelle family curse.
Or the one that seems to strike only the female members of my family.
My mom. My sister. Grams.Me.
“Luns?”
I jerk, gaze colliding with his. “Yeah?”
“If you don’t want to talk about Grams then we don’t have to.”
Damn.
Why does he still have to be so nice?
“It’s not that,” I admit on a sigh.
“Then what?”
