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Luna stared out the limousine window on the way home. She was so mixed up and confused she hardly even knew herself anymore.
When she’d first seen the article with the picture of Aiden in it, it had seemed like providence, a deep need for vengeance stirring into life inside her.
But had she gotten it all wrong? After visiting her parents, she wasn’t certain about anything anymore. If it wasn’t for Aiden she might never have returned to see them, and that would have been the biggest travesty of them all.
Despite what her parents might think, they would always be her mum and dad. She’d never even been interested in finding her biological parents. She’d been loved and adored by two people, and despite her emotional disconnect, they had always been enough for her.
At least, they had until Aiden had broken her heart. Not that she should excuse abandoning her parents because of his behavior. But something had well and truly broken inside her when he’d turned his back on her.
She really had felt like a failure. Like losing his love had meant losing a piece of herself as well.
It made her realize how much of her future she’d taken for granted. Her parents had never pressured her into anything, least of all a career. They’d only ever really imagined her married with children, and perhaps studying part-time for the day the kids would be school aged.
Aiden clasped her nearest hand. “Do you hate me now?”
She tensed. How could she tell him she’d hated him for the last eighteen years? Hated him for leaving her, for making her life spiral out of control, for making her feel like a failure and unable to face the places and people that would remind her of everything they’d done together.
She pushed all that aside to focus on the fact he’d brought her back to her parents, when the guilt of not seeing them had escalated to the point she was too ashamed to drop in and be the decent daughter they deserved. “Of course I don’t hate you,” she said wearily, somehow acknowledging it was the truth.
No matter what he’d done, right here and right now, she couldn’t find the strength to hate him. Not when he worshipped her body as though she was a goddess. And not when he’d reunited her with her parents, even if she’d been somewhat unwilling at first.
He’d broken the ice and now nothing would keep her away from them.
The next morning she woke sated and yet somehow exhausted knowing what was to come. That she’d faced her parents and her emotions had been wrung out to dry hadn’t helped her subconscious.
Aiden stepped into the room with his hair damp from the shower and a towel knotted low on his hips. He looked down at her with a warm stare. “How does breakfast followed by another swim in the ocean sound this morning?”
“Sounds glorious,” she admitted. No matter which part of the world she happened to be in, a dip in the ocean was the one sure way of making her relax and remind her of the wonders of the world.
“Good. I’m cooking this morning...be prepared.”
He chuckled darkly as he pivoted and walked into the kitchen, no doubt to start their feast. Her stomach gargled. Despite the beautiful meal her parents had supplied last night, she’d been too agitated to eat much, and after last night’s romp between the sheets she’d burned what few calories she’d had.
Taking a quick shower, she changed into her bikini and a white cotton sundress, then slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops. She’d have to apply a liberal amount of sunscreen since she didn’t have her straw hat. Or perhaps she’d buy one somewhere along the way.
You won’t be here long enough to worry. This is day five. You only have seven days off.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling suddenly nauseous. The days had slipped by way too fast, with her goal to avenge what Aiden had done to her making her more uncomfortable the closer she got to leaving him.
Why? Nothing’s changed. He still hurt you. He still turned his back on you and left as though you meant less to him than garbage.
It didn’t matter that Aiden’s ability to cook was average at best. The food could have been gourmet and still tasted like sawdust while too many unresolved feelings churned her stomach.
“Would you like some more crispy bacon?” he asked. With a grin he added, “Though crispy might be a bit of a stretch.”
“I was thinking charred and close to inedible,” she said with brutal honesty.
“Ouch.” He placed the tongs back onto the plate. “I guess that means you don’t want another helping then?”
“No, thank you.” Guilt surged through her and she felt compelled to add with a smile, “But thank you, anyway. I love that you cooked.”
He smiled right back. “You’re welcome. Maybe next time I won’t burn the bacon and the toast.”
She glanced at the blackened toast, then giggled. “How on Earth does anyone burn toast these days? There is a timer on toasters, after all.”
“Well, I didn’t do too badly with the orange juice,” he said with a broad grin as he poured her a glass from the jug.
“You did well buying that brand,” she conceded, before sipping on the naturally sweet orange and mango juice.
