“No, but…”
How could I explain that the iron grip around my chest had started to give? That somehow, just saying the words out loud, it felt safe to breathe again?
I think she knew. Somehow, Lola always did. Her gentle smile reappeared. “Here’s what we’re going to do next. You listening?”
“Y-yeah?”
“I’m going to sit on your lap and hug the absolute hell out of you because I think you need that more than anything. And when you’ve had your fill of cuddles, we’re going to eat the amazing chicken pot pie you have in the oven, sip our wine, and talk. Books. The past. Anything you want—exceptSoccer Mum Socialites.”
I chuckled. “And then?”
“We try the cheesecake, and well before the sun sets, you can drive me home.”
“I love the sound of this day.”
Especially the hugging part, but I kept that to myself.
29
She Saw a Future with Him
Lola
Aiden slid his reusablecoffee cup across the counter.
The girl taking his order blinked. A line furrowed between her eyebrows. “Uh…” She blinked again. “So…”
Something in her brain short-circuited when she looked at that cup. Was it because it was bright pink? Or was it the sparkly unicorns pooping rainbows that made her thoughts fizzle? Personally, I thought the cup was adorable.
Aiden shrugged away her confused look the same way he pretended all Harry’s wacky gifts were no big deal. But if you knew when to look, a smile peeked from his beard when he presented the cup to the barista. It was the same smile he tried to hide when he showed me another pair of his silly socks or talked about the wonky birdhouse Harry had built him years ago.
Those smiles were proof of the final skeleton hiding in Aiden’s closet—he was nothing but a sentimental softy.
The girl behind the counter fritzed back to life. “What’ll you have?”
Aiden shook off a yawn. “A latte, please,” he ground out. “Actually—wait.” His fingers speared through his hair. “Make it a double shot.”
My eyebrows popped up. This was new. How tired was he? “Adoubleshot?”
Aiden barely nodded. Dark circles framed his eyes, and even though he often frowned, there was an extra heaviness to the lines around his mouth. “You’re right. That won’t cut it.” He turned back to the barista. “Make it a triple shot, please.”
He slumped his hip against the counter, one hand fumbling in the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet, his other hand fighting off another yawn.
Scratch tired—he wasexhausted.
A sneaky grin spread across my face. Finally, this was my chance. The five times Aiden had paid for my coffee were five times too many. I was treating him whether he liked it or not. I darted forward. He didn’t know what hit him. He was only just flipping open his wallet when my hand launched across the counter to tap my card and pay.
“Lola,” Aiden’s tired voice pleaded. “I invited you for coffee. I should pay.”
I didn’t bother trying to hide my frustration. My arms folded across my chest, and I stared him dead in the eyes. “You promised I could treat you next time,” I huffed. “And that was at least three coffee dates ago.”
Aiden’s eyes rounded, suddenly wide-awake. “D-dates?”
“Oh.” My eyes skipped nervously over the cookie jars lined up on the counter. “When you started inviting me out for coffee, I thought… Isn’t this…? Were these not…?”
“Yes!” Aiden blurted. “I want that.” He gulped. “If you do. Do you want them to be dates?”
Shyness forced my eyes to my sandals. All I could do was nod. When I dared to look up, a softness crinkled the corners of Aiden’s eyes. He was smiling, too.
