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“He’s a reporter, Annie. No second chances, remember?”
As they walked back into the house, Annie took her arm. “I’ve remembered something Aiden said you should also hear.”
“Annie, please, I don’t…”
Annie ignored her. “He said because he kissed you, you should know he wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. And then he said you should talk to Webster. It’s not what we think.”
“He’s tried that line with me as well and added something about others. What others? More reporters? No thank you.”
“Don’t you think you should—”
“Can we please talk about something else?” Vivian asked as they entered the kitchen.
Mitch had a bag of frozen peas in his one hand. “Don’t tell me you’re still talking about the damn Irishman.” Wincing, he covered his other hand with the bag.
“I can’t believe you punched him!” Vivian called out as she grabbed his hand to look at it. Mitch’s knuckles were red and swollen.
“That’ll teach you not to go around hitting people! Can you imagine what will happen when Carol Bingley finds out about this?”
“You were crying!” Mitch shouted. Then he inhaled slowly. “Look, I didn’t mean to hit the guy, but when I saw him, I couldn’t help myself. It was just reflex. And then he had the gall to calmly admit, yes, he’d contacted Webster.”
Annie was putting food on the table. “Viv, for what it’s worth, Aiden did mention he was going to talk to you, but he fell asleep.”
Mitch snorted. “Yeah, right. And to think I initially liked the guy…”
“Okay, let’s eat,” Annie said. She waited for everyone to sit down. “Inhale and exhale all the bad stuff; otherwise, you’ll get indigestion.” Putting a hand on her tummy, she shook her head. “I’m not good with conflict. I don’t know if I can eat anything.”
“I’m sorry guys,” Vivian said. “It’s my mess…”
“Our mess,” Annie said firmly. “Mitch, I think we could do with a glass of wine tonight.” She jumped up. “Oh, wait”—she chuckled—“you have a boxing injury. I’ll get the wine.”
Mitch winced. “Okay, you can stop rubbing it in. I’m not proud of myself and, damn it, my hand hurts. I’ll go and apologize to Janice in the morning.”
Vivian could hear her siblings’s voices, but she wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying any more. Something Annie had said was bothering her, but her brain was too sluggish to make sense of anything. Aiden had betrayed her; that was really all she could remember at the moment.
Her phone kept vibrating in her pocket but she ignored it. The hospital would phone if it was urgent. The only other person who’d be sending her texts would be Aiden and she didn’t want to read anything he had to say.
Where her heart used to be was a huge hole. Somehow, she’d have to get used to it. She picked up her fork. Eat. She had to eat. A human body needed food. That much at least she knew.
Back in her room, she sat down on the bed and took out her phone. For long minutes, she stared at it before she opened Aiden’s messages.
“It’s not what you think. Webster wants to help.”
Minutes later, he’d sent another few messages.
“I’ve kissed you, damn it– that should mean something.”
“Webster has found others– please listen to what he has to say!”
Hurt and upset, she threw the phone down. Again that word—others. What was he talking about? What others? She wasn’t talking to any freaking reporter ever again.
Damn it, she should’ve remembered her vow before she’d spilled her guts to Aiden. For a moment there, she’d forgotten he was only in Marietta for a story. And she’d given him one.
Chapter Eleven
By one o’clockon Wednesday, Aiden was back behind his desk in the big offices of the newspaper in Portland where he worked. He’d caught a plane at half past nine this morning, and after the nearly two-hour flight, he’d stopped at his apartment to drop off his bag and change.
At least Aunt Janice understood why he’d contacted James Webster, but it didn’t make him feel any better. The one person he’d actually tried to help wouldn’t listen to him.
