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Her mood has lightened as she laughs at her joke. I hand her a glass of wine while she’s calling in our order. The grateful smile she gives me in return lifts the weight that was sitting on my chest. Crisis averted.
The food arrives and we immediately dig in. I love how this girl eats. Like she takes pleasure in all the different flavors equally and completely unashamed. I can’t help watching her as she groans in delight with each bite while I grin in her direction.
“What?” she asks with a full mouth of rice.
“I’m just admiring your appetite. I hate seeing girls pick at their plates and starve themselves for no reason.” She’s already a little thing, but she has an appetite that matches my own.
“I didn’t always. After leaving the hospital, I would barely eat. My mom and sister were so worried. I tried to show them I was fine by eating in front of them, but everything tasted like chalk in my mouth. It was the weirdest thing. Suddenly, I had no interest in anything I used to enjoy. Nothing was bringing me happiness. One of the doctors in the hospital told my mom I would probably need some sort of medication to help me get through the trauma of my experience, but I wanted to handle it on my own. The idea of taking something that could make me feel groggy scared the shit out of me. I had just spent a week drugged up in a basement, not knowing if I would live or die.”
She takes a breath and looks at her plate. She’s going back to the memories of the basement and I’ll be damned if she gets stuck there.
“But you didn’t,” I tell her. “You survived. You’ve been surviving since. I’m damn proud of you, Lindsey. Most grown men wouldn’t handle it half as well as you have. I remember how scared you were that day. I remember thinking, how is this little thing going to ever be okay again? I don’t know if I would’ve been. But you prove every day when you wake up that you’re not going to live a life in fear. You should be proud of that.”
She watches me like she can barely believe my admission. I can hardly believe it myself, to be honest. The silence is charged between us now. I worry she’s going to start crying again or something equally uncomfortable for me.
“Thank you, Aiden. I really appreciate you seeing that. Sometimes I feel like I’m swimming upstream and all anyone still sees is the victim from the basement.” She takes another bite of her food and leans back, looking at me contemplatively.
“Have you ever considered going into motivational speaking? I think you would make a killing.” She gives me a smile and I chuckle, relaxing back in my chair. This I can handle. The teasing and smart mouth are a welcome change.
“That would mean having to talk to annoying people and pretending to like them. I get enough of that in my day job.” I shudder at the idea. No thank you.
“That’s true. Shame, though.” She shrugs her shoulders and goes back to her plate. “I guess I’ll just be the lucky recipient of your motivational speeches, then.”
“Guess so, Sunshine.” I give her another smile and continue eating my dinner. I admit to myself it’s a nice feeling. Maybe I still have those in me after all these years alone. Maybe it’s a little too nice, though.
Chapter five
Lindsey
It’sbeenacoupleof days since my lasagna meltdown. I realize I put way too much importance on making dinner, especially considering I couldn’t cook worth a damn before the kidnapping, so putting that expectation on myself was a little far-fetched. At least that’s what my therapist told me. I can’t help it, though. I want so much to be back to the girl I was before, who didn’t accept failure. She was right, though, my therapist. I need to start smaller and realize that those minor achievements are huge milestones in getting back to who I was.
What I didn’t disclose to her are the feelings I’ve been having toward Aiden. I don’t know why. The omission could be considered falling back into old habits of keeping people at arm’s length, but fuck, that’s a hard one to break. Maybe it’s because in my head I know this isn’t a good idea. What on earth could he possibly see in someone as broken as I am? But when he awkwardly tried to comfort me in the kitchen, I was so appreciative of the support and the effort. I could tell he felt out of place, but he still tried. That means something, right?
The conversation over dinner just made me feel even gooier toward him. Of course, I couldn’t let it get too emotional, so I cracked a joke to deflect like I always do. It’s easier for me to be the life of the party than the introspective girl in the corner. I’ve been her too much recently and want to get back to the jokester always up for a laugh. There’s something about Aiden that makes me want to break through the tough exterior he shows the world and make him smile, even at my expense. I realize that he’s been showing me that side of him, his soft side. I also realize how much I like it.
It’s just a little crush. He’s a good-looking single guy, and we’re living together for the foreseeable future. So what if I haven’t had even an inkling of arousal in the last few months until he moved in. Nothing can come from it, but it’s sure fun to imagine sometimes. But that’s where it will stay—in my imagination.
We’re getting ready to have everyone over for dinner. It was just supposed to be my sister and Donovan, but then Jackson somehow wrangled himself an invite from me, and of course I didn’t want Abigail to feel left out, so I called her and told her to come too. I also mentioned to her Jackson would be here. I don’t think she can resist the opportunity to put the screws to him. No matter how many times I tell them both to keep it chill, they can’t help themselves. I’ve given up and just roll with the punches now. As long as there isn’t bloodshed by the end of the night, I’ll call it a win.
I decide to get a little dressed up. Most of my clothes were destroyed when Helen ransacked my room, and I only replaced them with comfy stuff. I haven’t had the occasion to wear anything other than shorts and yoga pants, seeing as I haven’t left my apartment in months, but I want to feel pretty tonight. Maybe a little put together. You know, the whole fake it ’til you make it philosophy. So online shopping to the rescue.
A cute little summer dress is in order for this evening. It’s starting to get a tad chilly at night, but nothing more than a cardigan is necessary. It’s been so long since I’ve put on anything other than T-shirts and stretchy pants that I forgot how great I felt in a dress. I’d always prided myself on my sense of style. Never afraid to express myself through clothes. I guess if you’ve forgotten that side of you, it’s easy to throw on whatever’s functional. I even put on a pair of platform sandals to complete the look. After giving myself a once-over in the mirror, I have to say I’m damn happy with the results.I still got this.Not bad for a recluse.
When I walk out to the living room, the patio doors are open and a delicious smell wafts in from the BBQ.
“Hey, I thought we were ordering in for everyone?” I ask, standing in the doorway to our patio.
Aiden is parked in front of the grill, staring at it like he’s waiting for it to magically do something. It reminds me of when my dad used to grill. Like, what did he expect to happen? The meat’s going to stand up and do a little dance for him?
When he turns to look at me, surprise and appreciation cross his features as his gaze travels from my styled blonde tresses down to my pink painted toes. I guess the dress was a good call.
He clears his throat. “I stopped by my old butcher on the way home today. I was in the mood for steak. We can order something else if you prefer.” He looks a bit unsure of his choice.
“I think you forgot again. Carnivore over here.” I point to myself. “Steak sounds delicious. I’m getting a glass of wine. You want a beer?” I have yet to see Aiden drink alcohol. Me, on the other hand, he’s probably seen with a wine glass more times than not.
Still looking at me with an expression that’s giving me very happy feelings, he replies, “Yeah, a beer would be good.”
Well, color me surprised.
