“You weren’t remotely obsessive, Aiden. You were a guy who seemed to enjoy my company as much as I enjoyed his.”
“I’m sorry for backing off.”
I nod. I won’t say “It’s okay,” because it wasn’t, but his apology is accepted.
He goes quiet after that. The silence stretches as I wait for him to drop something into it. No, I’m waiting for him to drop something very specific into it.
I want to get to know you even better, Kennedy.
I want this to be something more.
I like you. Do you like me?
When he doesn’t say that, I realize he already has, in his way. He has stepped as far from his safe corner as he dares, and now it is my turn.
I need to meet him halfway, and that should be so easy. I just need to follow his example. Tell him what I really think about him. Reciprocate.
And I freeze. Me. Impulsive Kennedy Bennett. The girl who walks up to a guy in a bar and says “You’re cute” and asks him to dance. The girl who has no problem being the first to say “I like you.”
This is different. This isn’t telling Connolly I think he’s cute or that I want to go on a date with him. I could say that. It’s all he needs, more than he expects probably. But I don’t just like him. I’m falling for him so hard it terrifies me.
Connolly says he has always been the pursued. I may have pursued, and yet we aren’t all that different. I set the parameters, too. Keep your (emotional) distance. Let’s have fun. Enjoy each other’s company. Revel in our time together. That time will be relatively short, because this isn’t going anywhere. An express train to Funsville. That’s the end of the line. Friendship. Companionship. Sex. Mutual respect and affection and nothing more.
This is more.
Say something, damn it.
He made the first move. I need to meet him halfway. Hell, meet him a quarter of the way. He already did the heavy lifting of going first, so there’s nothing to risk.
Start by reaching for my champagne flute. At least do that much, and he’ll know I’m about to follow his lead.
I get as far as lifting my hand from the water before I freeze.
“Your cuts,” he says, pushing from the tub.
“W-what?”
“Your cuts. You need something for them.” He out of the tub and drying off. “The front desk should have bandages.”
I protest, but it comes out as a wordless noise. He doesn’t hear. He’s already in his robe, and then he’s out the door.
Connolly is gone. He’s decided I have nothing to say, and he has literally retreated as fast as he can.
Tears sting. I rub the back of my hand over my eyes, only to get bubbles in them, which makes them sting for real.
Am I really going to mess this up? Lose this chance?
I can make a dozen excuses. We’ve both had a bit to drink. It’s been a long and difficult day. What if we say something we’ll regret? What if we say something we don’t mean?
Will I say something I don’t mean? Only if I say nothing at all. The wine and the difficult day aren’t going to make either of us confess something we don’t feel.
The door opens, and I’m still in the tub, staring at the bubbles swirling around me.
“Aiden,” I say, looking up. “I—”
“Out,” he says, his voice ringing with false cheer. “Let’s get those cuts fixed up. I have bandages.” He lifts a dusty plastic case. Then he turns his back to me. “There. I’m not looking. Your robe is right there.”
I envelope myself in the robe as I rise. “Aiden, I—”
“On the bed.” He pauses and gives an awkward laugh. “That does not sound good. On the bed, because it’s the only place to sit. Get comfortable, and let me take a look at those cuts.”
I sit propped up in the bed and put out my arm. He examines the thin cut as if it were a gaping wound. Focusing on that so I don’t see his disappointment. Also, letting me know that it’s okay if I don’t feel the same way. He hasn’t stormed off to nurse his wounded pride. He hasn’t said to hell with me. He’s here, taking care of me, whether I want to move this relationship forward or not.
“I think . . .” I begin. Then I blurt. “I think you’re totally hot.”
He sputters a slightly drunk laugh. “Okay . . .”
He looks over, sobering. “You don’t need to find something nice to say, Kennedy. You don’t have to feel the same way. I’m not going anywhere, unless you’d rather I did. Given the choice between friendship and losing you in my life, there’s no choice to be made.”
My eyes prickle again, and I nod. “I wasn’t done. Not sure why I led with that. Well, it might have something to do with the fact you’re in bed with me, wearing a robe and looking after my injuries. Totally hot.”
Another sputtered laugh. “Fair enough, though I’ll point out I’m still on the edge of the bed.”
“I’m cursed,” I blurt.
He meets my gaze. “I don’t care.”
“You have to, Aiden. It’s important.”
“Is it?” He shifts moving up onto the bed as he applies a bandage to my neck cut. “I believe it’s only important if I have any intention of playing you false. That’s the curse. It punishes false lovers. If anything, my problem has always been the opposite. I’m too honest, especially when saying things women don’t want to hear, like being clear that a fling is never going to be more, that I’m not interested in more.”
He finishes affixing the bandage and shifts to look me in the eye. “I am not afraid of your curse because I would never do you wrong. I don’t make false promises. I don’t tell pretty lies, even when they’d get me something I want.”
“I think I’m falling for you, Aiden.” I blurt the words before I lose my nerve.
Then I stop, steel myself, and say, “No, I know I’m falling for you, and it scares the hell out of me. You’re complicated. Your life is complicated. I don’t do complicated. I pick easy-going, uncomplicated guys with the bare minimum of baggage. That’s not you, and part of me wants to run in the other direction, and the other part says this is why I don’t date complicated guys. Because I like your complications. I like the fact I can never quite figure you out, and you’re always surprising me, and you’re never what I expect. I’m not so keen on the family drama, but that’s part of the package, and I’m okay with it.”
I stop and take a deep breath. “Oh, boy,” I murmur. “That was a lot.”
He holds out a bandage. “Do you want another one of these?”
I snort a laugh. “Not really.”
He moves closer, his face coming to mine. “How about one of these?”
“Yes, please,” I whisper, and he leans in to kiss me.
I fall into the kiss. It’s light and gentle, careful and considerate. His arms go around me, pulling me to him and then one hand moves to the side of my face.
“Anything else you’d like?” he says as he pulls back from the kiss.
“What’s on offer?”
His gaze meets mine. “Everything.”
“Well, in that case, I’d like what’s in the top drawer of that night stand.”