Page 58 of Pretender

But Amara is grinning at me. “Your grandfather sounds like a beautiful soul. Aiden’s dad was like that with Aiden, and it was such a joy to watch them together. He’s just like him in so many ways.” Her eyes shimmer, staring at her son with a soft smile. Aiden has let go of my hand and is already deep into his bright orange summer drink.

“Thank you, Will,” he says when he finally comes up for air. “You make the best Aperol Spritz. Just the perfect amount of Prosecco.” He does a chef’s kiss, and I catch Amara eyeing him with a slight crease on her brow.

“Take it easy, Aiden, we don’t want a hole in the wall in this house.”

She laughs, that loud contagious laugh, but I think I’ve missed the joke. Aiden chuckles, shaking his head before taking another sip.

Will sits down across from me. He has that calm, lopsided smile on, and a glint in his grey-green eyes. He’s like a Zen garden, if a Zen garden were a person. Such a soothing presence. Especially when my fake boyfriend is acting weird and I’m not sure what the hell to do about it.

“Aiden, please help me with the food,” Amara says as she gets up from her chair. She takes the drink out of his hand and puts it on the table before pulling on his hand. “Andiamo, gioia mia.”

I know this one. It means ‘let’s go’, but I wonder what his nickname is.

It’s just me and Will now. And the sound of Amara talking to Aiden in Italian all the way from the kitchen. It sounds heated, but I can’t tell whether she’s angry or if that’s her normal volume.

“So the wedding is in Devon?” I say, reaching for my drink again.

“Yes, at my brother’s house. We grew up there together, so it’ll be special.”

“I’ve never been.”

Will chuckles, sensing my terrible small-talk abilities, I’m sure.

“You should come down early, enjoy the countryside.” His voice is a low, slow bass rumble.

“I’d love that. And I can help out with getting the venue ready if you need it.”

“I’ll mention it to Amara, I’m sure she’d want to spend some time with you as well.”

I nod, and a strange huff of air escapes me. Did I just promise myself away for alone time with my fake boyfriend’s mother? Lifting my Aperol to my lips, I hope to hide the unease that just washed over me.

“Aiden seems off today,” Will says, and I nearly choke on my drink.

“Umm.” I wipe my chin. “Yeah… I guess he does.”

“Hm.”

“How did you and Amara meet?” I ask, desperate for a change of subject.

Will folds his hands in his lap and a slow smile spreads on his face. “We met at a market when I was selling my art,” he starts but waves a hand when my eyes widen in surprise. “It’s nothing big, just a hobby after I retired. Anyway, it was about a year ago now.”

“And you knew right away?” I quirk an eyebrow at him.

He chuckles and grabs his dewy goblet of Aperol. It leaves a ring of water on the wooden table. “Not exactly. I noticed her straight away, of course. She’s vibrant, as you’ve seen. She kept coming back. Bought more and more of my artwork, and considering it’s not exactly Renoir, I thought maybe…” He shrugs, blushing, and it’s the sweetest thing I’ve seen. “We talked more every time. When I finally asked if she wanted to grab a drink, I was already head over heels.”

“That’s lovely.”

“Neither of us imagined we’d find love again at our age, but here we are.”

“Do you have children from a previous marriage?”

He shakes his head. “No. Neither of us married our earlier loves, so it’ll be extra special for us both to share our wedding vows, knowing they are words just for us.”

Amara and Aiden exit the house, and we leave our conversation there. What Will just said makes a weird kind of sense, though. I archive it away—this is not the time or place to start asking questions about Amara’s past love.

“Check it out,” Aiden says, his voice loud and showy. “Pastries, cheeses, fruits, meats. Something for everyone.”

He stoops down and kisses the top of my head.