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Each embarrassing moment could get tucked away, in the corner of the box, held in place by each time I managed to take baby steps into something normal with him. I didn’t want to fawn over him, I didn’t want to study each nuance of each moment, because it felt wretched.
Anya ran off to his office, and to my surprise, Aiden didn’t follow.
“I owe you, Ward,” he said.
I blinked. “For what?”
Aiden jerked his chin toward the top of the steel beam.
My cheeks flushed hot. Honestly, with the flushing and the falling and the nodding. “No, it’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes,” he said evenly, “I do.”
There was nothing for me to say, because 1- I was afraid I’d keep arguing because no, I didn’t owe him anything for getting the small child off the very high beam, and 2- it seemed safer not to initiate a conversation with him.
Problematic, that.
“Anya,” he said, lifting his chin toward where his daughter had disappeared, “she’s done that her whole life.” At the lift in my eyebrows, he clarified. “The climbing. Doesn’t give me a heart attack like it used to, but every once in a while she goes a little too far.”
The way his voice softened when he spoke of his daughter had all sorts of melty, gooey things happening in my body. At first, all I could do was nod. But when I said nothing in response, I felt his curious regard.
Promise me you’ll try, I heard Amy say in my head. At the time, she’d had no clue what she was asking of me, but I’d given her my word all the same.
Before I could form words though, Aiden spoke again.
“You don’t like that I’m here, do you?”
My eyes zipped to his. “What?”
Aiden’s gaze was steady, searching. He didn’t repeat the question. Not to be rude or intimidating, but because we both knew that I’d understood him perfectly.
“I,” my voice faltered, and I shook my head. Try, Isabel. “Change is hard for me,” I forced out. Pushing aside all butterflies, all off-kilter feelings with a sweep of my hand, I dug past the embarrassment and found a kernel of truth. “I still don’t know what your presence here means,” I told him.
Handing him that piece of truth, even if I had no clue exactly what it meant, was like tugging out a part of my body. But his reaction … I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make it just a little less painful.
The way he watched me talk without ever rushing or pushing me helped loosen something tight and uncomfortable behind my ribs.
Aiden tucked his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans. “How about this,” he said slowly. “I promise I won’t make any big changes without discussing it with you first. New name aside,” he added.
My heart hammered. He wasn’t required to do that. And his approach—the calm, the steady—wasn’t something I expected.
“You don’t have to do that,” I told him. “This is your place, not mine.”
A few people walked in—lawyers from a local firm—and effusively loud greetings came my way as they entered. I waved.
“You sure about that?” he asked dryly.
I hid a pleased smile. Just barely. It’d felt like my place since the first day I walked in.
“All the same.” I kept my reply even, professional. “It’s your name on the building, or it will be soon enough. You can make your mark on it without my say-so.”
After I said the words, I wanted to take them back. Or for a moment, I did. Because I’d known so many athletes, ego-driven, prideful, who preened obnoxiously under any spotlight they were given. And still, I wasn’t entirely sure how this particular former athlete would respond.
“All the same,” he responded. “I want you to trust me, Ward.”
My eyes could hardly meet his, not with the way he said my last name. If he looked hard enough, he’d see goosebumps rise along my bare arms. The impulse to smooth them down with the palm of my hand was almost impossible to ignore. Before I could react, Anya popped her head out of his office.
“Daddy, my iPad froze. Can you help me?”
