Page 84 of Townshipped
“All calm and laid back, knowing what to do. I mean, rescuing her? Yeah. That’s all you. But the way you’re losing your composure. That’s … I don’t know. It’s pretty great. It just means I’m right. She’s your one.”
I don’t know why that makes me smile, but it does. As messed up as I feel, I love the idea of Em being the one I would spend my life with, to have her—really have her—no more wondering or tiptoeing around lines.
I look back at Duke. “So you said I have two problems, what’s the other one?”
He nods. “The bigger problem—which isn’t actually a problem unless she ends up having someone else waiting for her on the other side of all this—is …”
“Cut to the chase.”
“I am. Man. You in love is not a good look on you. Testy testy.”
“Duke.” I say his name with a note of warning in my voice.
“The way you look at her?”
“Yeah.”
“She looks at you that same way.”
Does she? Do I? Has she seen me look at her in any special way?
“What way is that?”
Duke makes his face soft and moony. He pulls a hand up under his chin and bats his eyelashes and looks at me like I’m his everything.
“Oh, Aiden,” he says in a soft falsetto voice.
It’s at this moment Mr. Satterson, Duke's dad, walks out from the office—right when it looks like Duke’s about to fall to one knee and propose to me.
Mr. Satterson’s already saying, “Duke, call Jimmy Shaller and tell him his brakes … '' when his eyes snap up to take in the scene before him.
Mr. Satterson studies Duke. Then looks at me, then back to Duke, who, to his credit, still has this half-swoony expression lingering on his face as he continues looking at me like he adores me.
“What in the name of corn and beans are you two boys up to out here?”
Duke loses it.
Then he says, “Just talking about women.”
“That’s yer problem,” Mr. Satterson says. “All the talking. No action. Back in my day, if we wanted a woman, we courted her. Got her attention and kept it. We didn’t talk about it. We did something about it.”
Mr. Satterson fills Duke in on what to call Jimmy about and then he turns toward the office off the side of the garage muttering about how this generation doesn’t know a thing about love.
Duke looks at me and then we both lose it.
“Man, I’m glad that was just Dad.”
“You and me both.”
“You heard him. A little less talking. Take some action.”
I don’t tell Duke I’ve kissed Em twice. Those kisses are ours—mine and Em’s. Duke and I aren’t high school boys swapping stories like we trade sports stats. We’re grown men, and what Em and I shared is between her and me.
29
“EM”
Aiden went on a mystery errand into town and came back less than two hours later, just like he promised. While he was gone, the kids and I snuggled on the couch and read. When they started looking restless, I got a wild idea.
