Page 33 of Pretender

His back is to me as he grates cheese on top of the omelette on the stove, so I can’t see his expression, but I swear I detect a hint of bitterness in his voice.

My stomach rumbles in response to the scent of the omelette cooking. Luckily, the extraction fan is loud enough to cover the sounds. Aiden puts a lid on the pan and turns his attention to the red pepper and tomatoes on the kitchen island.

“What about you?” he asks. “Will you be okay putting your dating life on hold?”

I inhale sharply and nearly choke on my own tongue. “Hah, yes, no problem,” I say once I find my voice again. “I’m not in dating mode.”

Understatement of the year. I haven’t even masturbated in months.

“You must have some opinions about Henry’s latest news.”

Letting out a long breath, I give myself a moment to decide how much to share. How far into personal territory do I allow this relationship to go?

Aiden slices a tomato as if it was a ball of butter and I’m almost hypnotised watching those large hands handle the delicate slices so gently.

It’s hard to explain to people that I’m not heartbroken in the classic sense of the word. I don’t miss Henry. I’m livid with him. Shaken to the core.

He fucking took my business when he broke our vows and made me look like a fool. It makes me so furious I could blow up.

But of course I won’t.

‘Too much. You’re too much. Just calm the fuck down, Linnea. You’re always making this so hard for me.’

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything; it’s clear you’re bothered. I apologise.”

I meet his eyes. He noticed?

I brush a steady hand over my hair, making sure it’s not my ears showing again.

“Don’t worry,” I say finally. “It makes me angry, is all.”

“Well, maybe we can have some fun with him as part of this ruse.”

“I’d rather not have anything to do with him at all, please.”

Aiden places a plate with seeded bread, omelette, and salad in front of me and passes me a knife and fork before sitting down opposite me at the kitchen island.

“Noted,” he says. “No Henry.”

I wait for Aiden to start eating before I do, but my stomach rumbles again, earning me a pointed look from him, and I dig in. The fluffiness of the eggs melting in my mouth, the salty, tangy cheese rounding it off—this is more than an omelette. What is the magic he’s put into this?

A groan escapes me. “This is divine.”

“Glad you like it. It’s the only thing I can cook.”

We eat in silence for a minute, the sound of cutlery clacking on the plates reverberating off the tidy surfaces.

“Can you explain to me why it’s so important to lie to your mum?” I ask. “And what about your friends?”

His eyes snap away and he takes an inordinately large piece of bread and egg.

He chews for a long time, and I finish off my last pieces of tomato while I wait. Did I say something wrong?

“It’s not something I do lightly,” he says finally, putting his cutlery down. “Mum…” He sighs. “She always sacrificed for me. Her career, for example. She could’ve done so much more than serving and cleaning for the Beckers and Beauchamps, but she chose it because it gave me a better life. It gave us more time together.

“She didn’t have a social life, but I had the best mum. So much love, so much care. And now she’s finally found this man who lets her be the star of the show again. When I saw how she lit up, how relieved she looked, when I said I was seeing someone… I knew I’d fucked up, but it was also a revelation. My emotional state affects her more than I like.”

“You don’t want her to be sad.”