Page 107 of Pretender

“Those are big words this early in a relationship.”

“Too much too soon?” Aiden asks and although he smiles as if he’s being funny, there’s a curl in his eyebrows that betrays him. He’s really asking.

“No, Aiden. There is no such thing as too much of you.”

He lets out a breath that sounds a lot like relief, and my skin tingle with the need to feel his warmth. I stretch up, meeting his full lips with mine, pressing my body flush against his.

“So, guys,” Jamie says, making me jump. She laughs. “Did you actually forget we’re here?”

“A little bit,” I say, touching a hand to my lips. They were deprived of the rest of that kiss. I need more.

“Let’s go grab some food. Aiden, you may be surprised, but East London has some high-end places you probably haven’t heard of.”

“I’ll go where you tell me today.”

“I like this guy,” Sophie says.

“Note he said ‘today’,” I point out, and Aiden chuckles next to me. I lean into him, ready to take him home. I want him out of these clothes and on top of me. Now. But I’ll wait. I’ll wait.

“Alright, quick sweep of the last section down here, and then we walk up to Jolie.”

“What’s that?” Aiden asks.

“Japanese-Italian fusion,” Jamie answers. “We’ve never been, but it sounds delicious and we’ve heard it’s unpretentious, which is a combination made in heaven.”

Today has gone better than I could’ve imagined. I’ve been on cloud nine since I walked in and heard Aiden say those beautiful words about me. After having lived under someone’s scrutiny for so long, feeling undermined or like I could never do anything right, having Aiden’s eyes on me with that expression is almost unreal. The way he finds any excuse to touch me, as if he can’t get enough—a brush here, a squeeze there, a kiss on my shoulder—I love it.

“What made you move to New York?” Aiden asks Jamie and Sophie. He threads his fingers through mine on the table, making my pulse pick up.

“My family’s there,” Jamie says. “As you may have noticed, my accent isn’t as posh as all of yours.” She winks. “My dad got sick, so I wanted to be near him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aiden says.

“Yeah, brain tumour. It was a long year.”

I reach out and grip Jamie’s hand across from mine, and she presses her lips into a thin smile as she meets my gaze.

“When we were at uni,” I tell Aiden, “Jamie’s dad used to send her these huge boxes of American treats.” The girls chuckle. “Those packets of mac and cheese are probably the only reason we could afford all our bar crawls. We saved so much money.”

“I’m sure Dad would have loved to know he inadvertently funded our drinking habit.”

Aiden laughs next to me, and I lift my gaze to those brilliant blue eyes, fighting a sigh that wants to break free.

“My dad,” Aiden starts, and I hold my breath. “He used to make mac and cheese for me. Mum would joke that for an Italian, he wasn’t living up to culinary expectations.”

We all chuckle, but I keep a close eye on Aiden. He shared something about his dad!

“That’s cute, at least he tried,” Jamie says.

“He did. He was raised to be a leader, to take over the family business, but he was happiest with me, he said. Meeting mum, having me, he told me it changed his priorities.”

My heart constricts at the words. Imagine having a dad who loves you that much.

“What’s your favourite memory of him?” Jamie asks, her voice tender.

I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe, waiting for his response.

Aiden’s hand disappears from under mine, and my skin meets the cold, wooden table instead.