Page 87 of Townshipped
Is he getting ready to say goodbye? While his words were full of compliments, they hint at a farewell speech. It stings to think he might be finally expressing all those sweet thoughts only to let me down softly.
“You wanted to tell me something?” he asks, a look of relief on his face.
I guess that was all he wanted to say. I’m trying to wrap my brain around the events of the day and this strange barnyard profession of all my positive qualities. Nothing’s adding up.
Aiden watches me with a look of anticipation on his face.
“Uh …” I stall.
This is my moment. Aiden’s relaxed. The kids are in bed. I may not have another good chance if I don’t take the opportunity while I have it.
I pause and then say, “The other day, when Jayme and Shannon took me to the coffee shop, I remembered something pretty significant.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. This memory came back in pieces. First I pictured this coffee shop somewhere near my home. I saw myself pulling up and parking. There was a man inside waiting for me at a table for two.”
“I see,” Aiden says, his posture stiffening.
“Hear me out,” I tell him. “I remembered his name. Buck. He was my fiancé.”
“Your fiancé?”
Aiden’s face is unreadable, a veritable mask of neutrality. What I wouldn’t give to have a thought bubble pop up over his head right now.
“Yes. My fiancé,” I continue, still trying to figure out whether this even matters to Aiden at all. “At first I felt like someone had knocked me between the ribs when the memory came to me. I was with Jayme and Shannon and we were in town, so I couldn’t step away to give myself time and space to clearly remember everything, but once I got my croissant and coffee, the rest of the memory came back.”
I look over at Aiden and say, “I was meeting him to call off the wedding.”
“You called off your wedding?”
“Yeah. I did. And Buck wasn’t even mad. He saw it coming, I guess. Anyway, after that, I think I took my honeymoon alone.”
“You think you are on your honeymoon right now?”
I giggle. “When you put it that way …”
“A honeymoon in rural Ohio.”
“Right? But I know. I left Buck and went on my honeymoon. So …” I pause to look up at him. “I’m not married. I’m single.”
I let the word carry into the night air. Saying it out loud solidifies my reality. And now, Aiden knows. He’s been so kind, but what if that’s all this is—kindness tinged with some moments of physical attraction. He just told me he admires me and enjoys my company. But that’s not a fraction of what I feel for him.
Aiden takes my hand in his and interlaces our fingers. His eyes meet mine. Despite the darkness of the night, I catch his expression in the pale light. Interest? Awe? Longing? I can’t tell for certain.
“So, you’re single?” he asks, more as a statement than a question. “No other men?”
His thumb rubs the slowest circle across the back of my hand—simultaneously seductive and calming—making every nerve ending in my body sing a song that goes something likeHe’s touching me.He’s touching me.
No one ever accused my nerve endings of being great song composers, despite the level of inspiration Aiden is giving me right now.
“No. No other men,” I tell him.
Aiden’s face tilts toward mine. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The grin on his face becomes a full smile as he tips his head closer to mine, and sweet Mother Hubbard, I think he’s going to kiss me.
