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“You shouldn’t have to pay every time we go out.”
“I’m happy to.”
She and Stuart hadn’t discussed finances, but she knew there were times when his business was booming, and then times, he didn’t work for several days in a row.
Aine, on the other hand, had more money than she could spend in a lifetime, unless she gave it all away, which she considered doing from time to time.
“It’s dirty money,” she said to her mother one day after she’d gotten off the phone with the trustee who had managed her and her sister’s money for most of their lives. The man was connected to the investment firm that held their assets, rather than to her father. If it had been the other way around, neither she nor Ava would likely have a penny to their name.
“Consider it a small compensation for the hell your father put you through,” her mother had said that day.
Aine shrugged. No amount of money could erase the horror he’d put her through in the past couple of years.
Even if she used every penny for a therapist, the memories might fade, and she might acquire tools to manage them when they came roaring to the surface of her consciousness, but she’d never be able to wipe them out entirely.
“You’re deep in thought tonight,” said Stuart, who was standing at the side of the table, holding his hand out to her.
Had the waiter brought the check already? She didn’t notice.
“I’m tired. Sam had a rough night, so I got up early to give Ava a break.”
Stuart smiled. He always did when she talked about her nephew. On their second date, he’d told her how much he loved kids and wanted to have a houseful of them one day.
Aine liked kids too, especially since her nephew was born.
Prior to that, she’d never been around a baby. Sam was work, no doubt about that, but the joy he brought to her life was worth every dirty diaper she changed and every step she took pacing the floor in an attempt to get him to settle down and stop crying.
“Will you be warm enough if we walk back?” Stuart asked, taking off his jacket to put around her shoulders.
“Yes,” she answered, smiling and knowing better than to tell him she didn’t need it since she was wearing her own down jacket. Stuart was a gentleman. It was one of the things she’d liked most about him when they first met.
His arm around her shoulders as they walked back down the trail was comforting. It felt nice to be by his side, and that’s what she should focus on instead of comparing him to Striker. They were two very different men, and those differences were neither good nor bad.
Aine slipped Stuart’s jacket off her shoulders when they got to her front door.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked like she always did.
“Not tonight. You’re tired.”
As he spoke the words, she yawned.
Stuart leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss goodnight, similar to the one he gave her after every one of their dates. Every so often, things would get more heated between them, but even then, it was never as scorching as it had been between her and Striker.
They’d been seeing each other for several weeks, and besides the occasional make-out session, Stuart hadn’t pushed her for anything more. It was another thing he’d told her when they first began dating. He was as old-fashioned as he was gentlemanly. He believed in taking things slow, not rushing into a physical relationship before they really got to know each other.
“I believe making love should be just that,” he’d said. “Without love, it’s just sex, and I have no interest in that.”
It hadn’t bothered Aine. If anything, it was a relief. In hindsight, her relationship with Striker had gotten physical far faster than it should have. As much as he’d reassured her otherwise, Aine still wondered if her lack of sexual experience was one of the reasons he’d ended things with her.
She watched as Stuart pulled his truck out of the driveway and drove away. She was tired, but she doubted she’d sleep easily. Instead, she walked through the house and out onto the deck. Even though it was getting chillier at night, Aine still tried to end as many days as she could, looking out at the ocean she was so fortunate to live with a view of.
It calmed her, grounded her, gave her a sense of peace like nowhere else she’d ever lived. Maybe her mother was right about the money being compensation for her father’s evil deeds. It had paid for the house she never would’ve been able to afford otherwise.
Aine closed her eyes and settled her mind on the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. That, and the smell of the sea, soothed her like a glass of warm milk did for her mother when she couldn’t sleep.
She opened her eyes and turned her head, sensing like she had in the restaurant that Striker was near. There, on the trail right behind her house, he stood with his hands in his pockets.
“Hi,” she said, almost wondering if her imagination was playing tricks on her. How many times had she wished that the person knocking on her door was him? Most often it was her sister, or Stuart.
