Page 108 of Pretender

When I look up at him, he’s lifting the sides of his mouth, but the crinkles in the corners of his eyes are gone. He’s focused on something on the table.

“My favourite time was when he walked me to school and we’d talk about all kinds of topics. I’d ask about things we saw, something we’d read the night before. It was a decent walk, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, and every day it was just me and Dad while Mum was in the shop.”

Aiden wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“He collapsed one day on the way home,” he says, putting his napkin down, finding his wine glass instead, swirling the red liquid. “Pancreatic cancer. He… Uh…” Aiden exhales. “He was gone—” Aiden stops swirling his wine and shifts on his chair. “—within a week.”

I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. The image of little Aiden, watching his father fall like that, panicking…

“That’s horrible, Aiden, I’m so sorry,” Sophie says in that soothing voice of hers. “That must have been terrifying when you were so young.”

“It was, of course. I thought he was invincible.” Aiden does that little bark laugh I’ve learned he does when it’s something that’s not actually funny.

I clear my throat at the same time, willing the sadness to go away.

“That’s what I thought about my grandfather too,” I say, pressing my lips together. “He was old, so it’s not the same at all, but I was convinced he’d live to be a hundred.”

Aiden meets my eye, and there’s a moment there of shared loss, and of gratitude for what we had.

Jamie lifts her glass. “To our everyday heroes. To our dads and Linnea’s grandad, all lost at different times, but who will live forever in our hearts and the stories we share about them.”

“Hear, hear,” Sophie and I say together.

Wordlessly, Aiden raises his glass, just an inch. That smile that doesn’t reach his eyes is still on his face.

That seemed to be a reluctant move, and I can’t help wonder why. In Florence he said he’d tell me about his dad who left everything behind for his mum. He’s shared a little bit more now. Is it hard for him to talk about because the death was traumatic? That would make sense, I guess. No… there’s more to it. There’s something about his dad that makes Aiden different.

He laughs at something Jamie says. But it’s got a hollowness to it. Is he just pretending it’s all okay? What am I missing?

Ugh, stop spiralling.

Get a grip.

He just spent hours with my friends for me. He said I light him up. That he wants to be part of my future. So he doesn’t want to lay out all the details about his dad in front of my friends, that’s normal. It would be weirder if he did, actually.

It’s all fine.

Think about something else.

I focus back on Aiden, homing in on what gave me the near-overpowering need to rip his shirt off earlier. Like the way his biceps flex as he lifts his glass. Or how his full lips stretch into a perfect, wide smile. The lip biting and the dimple I just can’t get enough of. And now, when he looks at me, that light in his eyes like before. Mmm, yes, all of these details.

There he is. There’s my Aiden.

This is who I want to see. He doesn’t have to tell me everything right away.

I can choose to trust him.

Trust—a muscle I’ll need to exercise. The only way to do so is to use it.

“I want to take this man home now,” I say, grinning up at Aiden. I need more of him now to overshadow my fears. I want him to take over and make me trust him. Stop me from screwing this up because I’m scared.

“Aw, you’ll miss out on our next planned stop. It’s just down the road. The Vagina Museum.”

“Sophie,” Jamie whispers. “I think Linnea wants to show him her vagina museum.”

My ears burn, but I can’t help but burst out laughing. My vagina is more like a museum for sure. With zero visitors for a very, very long time.

Butterflies fill my stomach. Not the sweet, fluttery kind—more like an angry swarm.