Not like the drive back from Hobart last week.
Aiden had driven us to the city. We’d spent two days having crazy-good sex in a three-star motel, reading books, and laughing our heads off when we tried to cook a romantic brunch in a shoddy microwave. On attempt two, Aiden had exploded an egg. What a mess.
Somewhere in all that, we’d found time to buy a new car.
Mynew car.
Some people would never understand how important it was for me to walk into the dealership. I’d been caged for years, my every move, every breath, picked apart. The car was my freedom. And ironically, that freedom came from the one thing still hidden at the bottom of the faded pink pillowcase—my old engagement ring.
The last reminder of Chris disappeared into the hands of a jeweller in the city, and I drove home in a brand-new car instead of the used Toyota that Aiden had helped me pick out from the online listings.
But the drive home had been a nightmare.
A perfect storm of hell brewed for Aiden that afternoon. I hadn’t been behind the wheel in years and lurched to a fewsudden stops, getting used to the brakes. He was tired, and his nerves frayed too close to breaking after an appointment with the psychiatrist. He trailed in his car behind me, and everything was okay…until it wasn’t.
The weather turned halfway home. Charcoal clouds swept in off the ocean, and rain pelted in white sheets across the highway. Aiden unravelled in seconds and swerved off the road to battle through one of the worst anxiety attacks I’d ever seen. His skin drained white, and the pained cries that wrenched out of him when he slumped over in the front seat almost broke my heart.
Even when he could finally choke out words, his head stayed bowed against the wheel.
“I can’t get better,” he said. “Ican’t.”
“We could try count—”
“It doesn’t fucking work!”
“Aiden—”
“It doesn’t always fucking work, Lola! Please. I’m a fucking failure. Leave me to rot here where I belong. Just go.”
“What’s our rule?” I huffed at him. “What’s the one thing you can’t do?”
Guilty, tear-stained eyes turned from the steering wheel. “I’m not pushing you away.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right. Try again, big guy.”
“You’re better off without me.”
“Nope.”
“Please go.”
“Nah.”
And when my gentle encouragement had still failed, I’d called in the big guns.
The lovebirds met us on the highway. Harry drove Aiden home. Brooke sped along at the back of the convoy in her shiny convertible. And me, well, I zoomed at the front, music floating in my own little piece of freedom.
Everything had worked out.
I’d shown Aiden that life wasn’t about struggling on his own. He had friends he could rely on. I did, too. But I had a sneaking suspicion I’d have to repeat that message a few more times until it was burned into his stubborn brain.
I zipped my car into the driveway and shut off the ignition.
“There she is,” I murmured, a proud smile spreading across my face.
The old farmhouse was a beauty. Bigger than the cottage and farther out of town, the house was an easy walk to Ruth’s for all the Mexican fiesta nights I could handle. A tray of pumpkin seedlings and pea shoots waited beside the front door. She’d promised to help me plant a vegetable garden of my own.
I pushed open the car door, hopped out, and clicked the fob to lock it.Mycar. I skimmed my fingertips over the shiny paint, savouring those new car feels, until Aiden’s arms circled my waist. Happiness fluttered in my chest when he kissed the back of my neck.
