Page 9 of Rowan's Renewal
Instead, in response to his self-deprecating snark, I say, “You did everything you could to mitigate that. Sometimes, protection fails.”
“Pretty sure that’s how I came into existence,” he mutters.
I snort. “Me too, to be honest.” Not that my parents were anything less than loving and supportive, but I’m sure they thought they were done and dusted with my older siblings —the youngest of whom was nine when I came about— when I appeared. Still, my words do the trick and the corner of Rowan’s plump lips ticks upwards. Relieved, I smile and softly tell him, “We can fix this. Do you trust me?”
Chapter Five
Dinner was goingsowell. So, naturally, I managed to fuck it up. Or, rather, my body did. I was so careful, too. I mean, okay, when I went to the bathroom at the start of dinner, I discovered that I must have wet without realizing it, but it hadn’t been enough to worry about. Usually, I get enough warning that I need to go that, if I’m at a restaurant, I can make it in time.
It must have been the wine. For some reason, wine goes through me faster than most liquids, and I didn’t get the usual pang from my bladder before I felt the leakage into my jeans.
In the bathroom, I’d hoped I could minimize the impact somehow, but it was too late and too noticeable. I didn’t even have a sweater with me to wrap around my waist to hide my shame.
Stupid tropical climate.
But now Aaron is standing in front of me, far calmer and kinder than any stranger in his position needs to be, and his question hangs between us as he waits for my reply.
Do I trust him? I barely know him.
But he hasn’t freaked out at the fact that you wet your pants like a toddler,the voice in my head argues.He hasn’t run out of the restaurant and left you to deal with this on your own.
I’d almost convinced myself that our dinner felt romantic. Like a date. Knowing that, against all odds, we live in the same city back home made it seem almost like the universe was telling me to move on.
Then…the accident happened.
And Aaron stayed. He came looking for you. He offered you a room to stay in for no good reason.
Licking my lips, I nod. “I trust you.”
His answering smile brings out his dimple, and he nods. “Good boy,” he murmurs, stepping into my personal space. The strange endearment makes my belly feel fizzy, but in a good way. “I’m going to take your jeans off, okay? The main door is locked; it’s just us here.”
My heart immediately begins to beat faster and harder, the shame of the situation slamming back into me, but he seems ready for it. Splaying his hand over my chest —right over my thumping heart— he shushes me. “I’ll only need them for a couple of minutes, okay? You can go sit in the stall, see if your bladder has anything else to give, and by the time you’re done, these will be dry.”
I can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he speaks that just calms me right down, and it feelsgoodto hand over the reins and responsibility of dealing with this to someone else. I know I shouldn’t —it’s my mess to clean up, my problem to resolve— but the relief of being told what to do makes my head feel light.
“Okay,” I answer, allowing him to undo the button and fly, stepping out of each leg at his instruction.
With a bare ass on display, I make my way back into the toilet stall and will my bladder to cooperate. If I empty it again now, I’ll stay dry for the return trip to the hotel.
The sound of the air hand dryer starts up while I think of running water, and I understand immediately what Aaron is doing for me. In my panic, I never would have thought to do the same.
When I’m sure I’ve done all I can to ensure a dry trip back to the resort, I flush the toilet and head over to wash my hands again. Aaron grins and pulls my jeans away from the hand dryer while I reach for paper towels.
“Tada,” he declares, holding them out for me, “all fixed. They might be a bit warm when you put them on, so give it a few seconds.”
I avert my gaze, shyness and renewed embarrassment worming away in my stomach, but I still murmur my thanks as I take my jeans and climb back into them. It’s a relief knowing that I can walk out of here with my head up.
“All good?” Aaron asks, and I nod. He holds out his hand for me to take, and I barely hesitate to do so. “Let’s get going.”
***
The trip back to the resort is practically silent. I can’t bring myself to say anything with a third party in the car, but I know that I won’t want to talk about it when we get back to the room, anyway.
Nevertheless, Aaron’s shoulders are loose and relaxed, and he sits beside me in the back seat of the Uber, reaching out to squeeze my thigh in what I take as a reassuring gesture. But then he leaves his hand there for the entire trip, a comforting weight, almost allowing me to believe that I’m not alone in dealing with my issues anymore.
But that is a dangerous line of thinking. He’s young. He can —and should— do better than me. He deserves better than me. In fact, most everyone does. I’m too much. Situations like tonight? They’re too much to expect anyone to deal with on a regular basis.
And what if someone else had wanted to use the bathroom while we had it locked? What if they’d thought we were…I don’t know…having sex or something in there? What if they’d called the police, or broken the lock to get in, or—
