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“No. Like anything else, it’s business. The photography shoot at the Vineyard was a smart move. Make the world feel like they got to witness something private, something that wasn’t meant for the cameras. I see thatnow.”
I struggle to catch up. I knew their relationship was unconventional, but had dismissed it asthat.
“My bride wants a piece of this company,” he goes on. “The profile. Theplatform.”
God, it’s so clinical. I hate thinking of it thatway.
But that’s what you and Ben were doing,right?
I shake that off. I almost don’t ask my question, but it seemsinevitable.
“And what do youwant?”
A haunted expression flits across his face, something like hope chased by despair. “Things I thought I couldhave.”
There’s bitter edge in his voice. He’s still not telling meeverything.
Only this time, I sense that what he’s keeping from me, he keeps fromeveryone.
He has feelings forher.
The possibility has my chestswelling.
I reach for his arm through the tailored jacket, and he stiffens as I say, “Something real can come from something fake, Aiden. Trustme.”
* * *
When I get homeafter a long workday, still thinking about Aiden Vane and his bride, Lil pounces. "You're so busted. You were at Ben's all weekend. What did youdo?"
"Hungout."
"Uh-huh."
I step out of my heels, wiggling my toes. "We left the apartment at least once aday."
Her eyes round. "You're joking. You can't have sex all day long. Canyou?"
I make an assessing noise. "Prettymuch."
"But you have to eat. Anddrink."
I set my bag by the door and head to the living room. "There's delivery. And Ben has a water dispenser in hisfridge."
"Marry him," shesays.
I laugh, but it does feel as if we could be in one another's lives in an entirely new way. I want that, somuch.
The way he acted this weekend makes me think he might want it,too.
He makes room for me in his routines. We talk about traveling. We always talked about books and movies, but it's entirely different doing it in his arms, arguing until his eyes warm and I know he's about to try to convince me using entirely unfairtactics.
"Something came for you." Lil's words bring me back as she goes to the kitchen and returns, holding up apostcard.
I stiffen before I even read the text on thefront.
Portugal. A stone street, curving and lined with windows boasting riotous flower baskets. It's beautiful and it makes my stomachplummet.
"Let me guess,” my sister starts, her voice echoing in my buzzing ears. “Nowhere in this weekend did it happen to come up that you slept with him a decadeago?”
