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They’d spent too much time together over the last week. That’s all it was. Between being around him nearly every day while they ran errands and Evie giving her a crash course in being married to a Callahan man, she was steeped in him. It was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous.
Viv had no more formed a connection with Aidan Callahan than with the tech she saw at the nail salon every two weeks. Honestly, Lina probably knew more about her than Aidan did anyway.
Taking a deep breath, Viv reached for the newspaper her mother had left folded in the middle of the table. She had a few more minutes before her sister arrived to take her for this fitting, then she would come home and take a nice long soak in the tub, maybe even indulge in a glass of wine.
She unfolded the paper and pressed it flat with her fingers, flipping past the headlines and the advertisements until she got to the society section. There it was, above the fold on the first page.
Youngest Callahan Son Engaged After Whirlwind Romance,the headline announced. She shook her head with a derisive snort at the message that rang through loud and clear. She was a nobody engaged to a somebody. And only the somebody got mentioned in the headline.
Her eyes dipped down to the large photo of them that covered the entire right side of the page, and she choked on her coffee, sputtering as the liquid burned her tongue.
The photographer had made them sit through a dozen posed shots at least, and in the end, they’d gone with a candid photo of them instead. That moment just after Aidan had taken her hand and given his line about the engagement ring.
He was looking ahead, smiling at Diana. He practically oozed charm. The asshole. But while he’d been busy schmoozing the photographer, she’d been staring at him like a lovesick puppy. She looked besotted. Embarrassment swamped her, and she prayed he hadn’t cared enough to read it.
Disgusted with herself, she set her mug on top of their faces and forced herself to skim the article. Diana had clearly gone for the Cinderella story, making it sound like Aidan had plucked Viv out of the gutter and handed her the world on a silver platter.
She’d even spun the surprise trip to Rome into some kind of Make-a-Wish moment, insinuating Viv couldn’t possibly know how lucky she was to be chosen by the likes of Aidan Callahan. As if she should be grateful to be shackled to a man who wouldn’t spend a single minute mourning her if she got run over by a truck.
The entire thing was fucking insulting.
When the doorbell rang, she shoved back from the table and stalked across the kitchen, yanking it open while muttering to herself about reporters and journalistic integrity. The figure at the door only served to darken her mood further.
“What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Aidan mumbled, huddling on the shallow stoop out of the rain. “Are you going to let me in or what?”
Viv moved to block the narrow opening. “No. What do you want? I told you Sofia was going to ferry me around today. She’ll be here any minute.”
“No, she won’t. I called her and told her not to come.”
She crossed her arms over her chest to keep from wrapping her hands around his throat and squeezing until his eyes bugged out. “And why would you do such a thing?”
“Because I volunteered. It’s my job. Deal with it,” he added when she still didn’t move.
“Your hero complex is insufferable, Callahan. Go away. I’m not your responsibility for another eight days, and I can take care of myself.”
When she moved to slam the door in his face, his arm shot out, holding it open enough for him to wedge his foot in against the frame.
“You are really trying my patience, princess,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now either you can get your coat and get in the damn truck, or I can throw you over my shoulder and do it myself.”
Like hell. She was done being ordered around. She’d had her fill of doing exactly what she was told just to keep the peace. For once, she wanted to be in control of something in her crazy, upside-down life. If this was her hill to die on, she might as well make a scene.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened the door enough to stomp down on his toes, enjoying his quick hiss of pain. When he jerked his foot out of the door, she shoved into it with her shoulder, but he was faster, slamming it open so hard she stumbled back two steps.
He left it hanging, the rain falling in sheets and whispering through the trees as he advanced. She let her irritation at being ordered around by him, of all people, simmer into anger. Anger was better than feeling like an idiot.
She thought she’d anticipated his lunge, but he feinted when she tried to dodge around him to the right and hooked his arm around her waist. Lifting her off the ground, he held her tightly with one arm while he snatched her jacket and purse off the bench by the door.
In any other circumstance, she’d be impressed that he could lift her so effortlessly with one arm, but right now she just wanted to claw his eyes out.
“Put me down, you asshole!” She slapped and scratched at his arm as he dashed out into the rain, slamming the front door behind him.
“Christ's sake, woman, what the hell is your problem?”
He set her on her feet under the overhang in front of the garage, blocking her from making a run for it by laying a hand on either side of her shoulders. Not that she wanted to in this downpour. She was already half soaked from being hauled this far.
“You are my problem!” she shouted, drilling her finger into his chest. “You can’t just manhandle people when you don’t get your way!”
