“Your mom and one of your older sisters?”
“Yes,” I say, staring a hole into his Adam’s apple. Anywhere but into his crystal-blue eyes.
“That was awarmwelcome.” The heat from his gaze is as searing as lasers on my skin. “What? Your family never knew about us?”
My jaw shifts as I snort a rigid breath. Instead of answering with words, I glare at him, hoping he’llget it.
His throat tightens as he swallows, calculating what I’m trying to say. Brow furrowed, he softens his voice. “Do they always treat you like that?”
I lift my chin in defiance. Is he going to insult them? “Likewhat?”
“Like a kid who can’t be trusted not to burn the house down. Like a girl too reckless to know what’s good for her—even when she does. Too wild to let loose, so they box her up.Trim the edges. Make her smaller.Softer. Easier to control.Pliableenough to conform to what they want.”
Tears flood my eyes, blurring the world for a second.Damn him.He sees too much. But the worst part?
I may adore that.
“I don’t fit in,” I whisper.
“Well, neither do I.”
“You can fake it.”
He nods once, so sure of himself. “I can fake it for both of us.”
My chest rises, warmth spreading through my entire body…Both of us.
He glances at the stuff in his hands. “She saw this.” BOOTY-DOOP, the label shouts in bold capital letters.
“Yeah…” I sigh. “That’s probably going to make an interesting Thanksgiving dinner topic.” I snag the eucalyptus bag of salts and grab his hand.
Because I like it in mine.
But when we turn to head toward the checkout, we freeze. A display of pregnancy tests blocks the aisle. Bright. Shiny.Mocking. I nearly sob. Ribs cave in. Heart fractures into tiny pieces… The baby on the cover stares at me. Smiling like a ghost from my past. Who would I be if I’d never had him?
If I’d neverlosthim?
Aiden doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He’s a solid force. A vessel I could pour rage into if I didn’t already know that he’d carry it. He strokes his thumb over the back of my hand. Only once.
But it’s enough.
Enough to let me shove that grief back down.
Enough to keep walking.
I love myself.
That evening, in our new routine, I return from the guest suite, face washed and teeth brushed. Ready to slip under thecovers, doomscroll, and try to forget about the horror show at the pharmacy.
Aiden usually reads something dense. Textbooks. History. Anything that makes me feel illiterate by comparison. But when I peek at him lying in bed already, sinewy bare chest and hair damp from his shower, he’s already slumped down with his eyes closed. On his back. Like he’s in a coffin.
I swallow and slide under the blanket carefully, like I might wake the dead. He doesn’t look asleep, but I don’t risk it. Switching off my lamp, I turn onto my side.
“Night,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond.
nineteen