Page 52 of Miss Typed

“I’ll give you the forty thousand in my account now and make payments on the rest. All of it. Including the hundred you paid for the auction.”

“Can we just table the discussion about payments? I need to get back to my room. You should stay the next couple of days here in Toronto and visit your family, and come back next week or whenever you want.”

My frustration bubbled up. “We need to discuss this, Aiden. If not now, fine, but once I get back.”

“I promise we’ll talk about it once you return. I’m sorry I didn’t consider your feelings in flying to Toronto and taking care of things. Or for treating you as though I didn’t value your opinion. I should’ve asked first. I also shouldn’t have called our morning together a lapse in judgment. That was another asshole move.”

He pulled me in for an unexpected embrace. The type which had my body practically melting into his.

“Do you still believe I’m a lapse in judgment?”

He stepped back. “No, but I’m not the guy for you. I can’t be your first time.”

“What about my second?”

I thought I was being funny, but it was clear by the way he tensed he didn’t see the humor.

“I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship. Not with anyone.”

“Because of your leg?”

“I’m not sure I was relationship material before the accident, either, but I’m definitely not now. Get some sleep. Check out of the hotel tomorrow and go see your family. I’ll see you next week.” He kissed my forehead before limping toward the door. “And thanks for the cheeseburgers.”

I smiled in the dark, knowing he didn’t mean the food. “You’re welcome. Good night.”

* * *

I knocked the snow off my new boots on my way up the porch steps of the two-story brick house, the home in which I’d grown up. Ringing the bell, I waited for the door to open.

Once it did, I was struck by how little my mother had changed in the nine months since I’d last seen her, with only a few more worry wrinkles added to her face perhaps. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back in a bun, and she was dressed in jeans and a sweater.

“Hi, Mom.”

I’d thought those words would be greeted with more happiness, but instead my mother shook her head.

“What are you doing here, Chloe? Please don’t tell me you lost your job?”

A long sigh escaped my lips. So much for a warm welcome. Although I knew my mom loved me, I often wondered if she was more concerned about my earning potential than my well-being. “I didn’t lose my job. Can I come in?” It was freezing outside.

“Of course. Come on in.”

The house looked the same. The wallpaper was still dated, the carpet in serious need of replacement. The three-bedroom house wasn’t much, but it was clean, and thankfully, it was owned outright again. It was the only home I’d ever known, but I no longer viewed it with nostalgia. Instead, it felt like a trap that wouldn’t let go.

“Whose coat is that?” my mom asked.

In an unexpected gesture, Aiden had left a brand-new, red, North Face jacket and a pair of fur-lined boots at the front desk for me. The fact he’d been so thoughtful had left me with a smile.

“It’s mine.”

“Looks expensive.” There was an accusation in her voice, as if I wasn’t allowed to have anything nice.

Instantly, I felt guilty. I took the coat off and put it over the banister for the stairs. “It was a gift. Where are the girls?”

She walked into the dining room, taking a seat at the table where a pile of sewing lay. In addition to being a secretary at a local accounting firm, my mom also worked as a seamstress for extra income.

“They’re at choir rehearsal but will be back in a couple hours. Why are you here? I thought we couldn’t afford your plane ticket.”

“We,” implying I would have been spending her money. “Actually, I have some good news. I paid off Donald.”