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“I haven’t reached that point yet. I’m not ready to get wet.” Her bathing suit was in her bag along with an oversize towel that Clare had thrust at them, but she wasn’t in the mood. She sat down, watching sunlight dance over the surface. “I’d forgotten how perfect this place is. You’re lucky living here.”
“Yes, although I don’t often have time to sit here. And we usually have strangers occupying this place.”
“That must feel weird.”
He shrugged. “It brings in money.” He sat next to her, his arm brushing against hers as he lowered his feet into the lake. “But yeah, I’m possessive about this lake. I feel a sense of ownership.”
She lowered her feet in too and gasped as the icy water closed around her ankles. “It’s cold!”
“Wimp.”
“Says the guy who has never lived through a winter in New York.”
He laughed. “Last summer you were diving off here.”
Last summer she’d done a lot of things she was no longer doing.
They sat with their feet dangling into the water as they had when they were children.
“So—” He leaned down and rolled the legs of his jeans up a little farther. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what? How cold the water is?”
He ran his foot along the surface, making ripples. “Does that mean you don’t want to talk? You don’t have to. Whatever works for you. I didn’t want you to think I don’t care, that’s all. I remember you messaging me once telling me that none of your friends wanted to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to be that friend.”
A lump formed in her throat. “How do you know so much?”
“I don’t know much.” He set his drink down on the jetty. “But I know you.”
She felt a slow warmth spread through her, a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.
“It’s complicated.”
He said nothing, just waited quietly, offering companionship but nothing else. No judgment. No pressure.
“It’s been a totally crap year. Horrible. I wanted to spend the whole time under the bedcovers, but lay there every morning knowing that if I didn’t get out of bed our lives would fall apart. I felt needed. I was needed. I helped with Molly, with the laundry, I cooked—” The words slipped out slowly at first, wriggling past the barriers she’d held in place for so long. But he was such a good listener, and because he really did understand her, the barriers opened and the words started to flow.
And Aiden listened quietly, making the occasional murmur of understanding, asking a question or two, glancing at her just often enough to show that he was listening but not so often it made her feel uncomfortable.
“It’s been tough. And it isn’t getting better. It’s just different. Weirdly, it might be even tougher lately.”
He nodded. “Do you like her? Flora?”
How did he know that her biggest issue right now was Flora?
She glanced at him. His eyes were a warm shade of brown. Interested. Caring.
She liked the way he looked at her. It made her feel tingly and aware of every single part of herself. “I don’t know her that well.”
“That’s what you say when you don’t like someone, but you’re not ready to admit it.”
Izzy turned back to the water. “It’s not her fault. I mean, she tries so hard to make us like her it’s almost painful to watch. And Molly falls for it of course. For months I was the one who held her when she cried. I cooked her meals. I read to her. I even let her sleep with me. I’ve washed her sheets when she’s wet the bed—” she glanced at him, her gaze fierce “—and if you as much as mention that—”
“I wouldn’t.”
She sighed. “It’s all Flora this, and Flora that, like she’s been bewitched or something.” Embarrassed by her own indiscretion, she took another swig of her drink. The truth was thinking about Flora made her feel bad about herself. The nicer Flora was, the angrier Izzy became. She didn’t know why. “Forget it. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.” And now Aiden was going to think she was a total bitch. Maybe she was. A nice person would have embraced someone like Flora, wouldn’t they? She hadn’t fed them a poisoned apple or anything. It could have been a lot worse.
“Molly really likes her?”
