Page 18 of Troubles

“Erm, yeah, actually. I forgot to grab a blanket. Do you have one we can use?” Bless him, his voice is still soft and low.

“I’ll find something and be right out.” I check my closet and grab the flat sheet from my extra set. It’s just going to have to be good enough. “Bye, Gracyn. Thanks.” There’s no response, she’s probably fallen back to sleep.

Sunglasses. Water bottle. Sheet. Keys. Deep, bracing breath and I head out to see Aidan leaning against the passenger side of his car. He looks at me with just a touch of pity and a beautiful smile.

“Good morning, love,” he murmurs as he leans in and presses his lips to my cheek right by my ear. “You look beautiful. Let me take this.” He puts the sheet in the back seat of his car and opens the passenger door for me.

Aidan’s quiet while we walk toward the back side of the historic mansion. I’ve toured it tons of times and while the mansion is beautiful, the grounds are unreal. This place was built as a summer home for a railroad tycoon during the Golden Age with servants’ quarters, a carriage house, and formal gardens. It’s magical. My happy place.

In dire need of a little shade, I steer him toward my favorite spot. It’s a little niche tucked into some trees—perfect for a hammock and a good book. Sadly, I’m pretty sure the park service would frown on my efforts if I tried to put one up. Instead, I spread the sheet out where the grass is soft and fewer people are around to spoil the peacefulness. And it’s idyllic back here. Really perfect.

“This is lovely.” Aidan squints toward the sun. “We’ll be good here? I’ve Irish skin, yeah? I don’t want to burn and freckle…” He turns his smirk to me and chuckles softly.

Now, I totally want to see his cheeks turn red. And I can’t help but stare at the fine smattering of freckles high on his cheekbones and across the bridge of his nose. “No, I think your delicate complexion will be fine.” I’m starting to feel a little icky again. “Can we eat? I think I have a bad case of…” I scrunch up my nose and shake my head a little reaching for my water bottle. I really should have known better.

Aidan sets the bag on the grass and pulls me down to the middle of the sheet. “Lisbeth, don’t try out-drinking Jimmy again. Love, he’s Irish…” God, I was an idiot to think I could hang with him. “And he’s years of experience on you.”

I groan as Aidan unpacks sandwiches and fruit, knowing I need to eat, but the lurch in my stomach from the leftover alcohol is a lot to handle right now. I grab my water and let the cool liquid roll down my throat, saying a silent prayer. “You learned your lesson, then? No more showing off—trying to prove yourself?”

I mumble a quiet no as he unwraps my sandwich and hands it to me. God, it’s perfect. Aidan’s amazing. He keeps doing these little things, taking care of me. Making sure I have what I need.

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” Food finally sounds like a good idea to me. He can laugh all he wants, this is the stuff that love is made of.

“Lisbeth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so thoroughly enjoy a fuckin’ turkey sandwich. You’ve hearts in your eyes.”

13

Aidan

Ibrush a lock of auburn hair back off Lis’ cheek, tracing the soft lines of her lips. Her nose twitches and she reaches up to brush away the tickle. Christ, she’s beautiful all rumpled from sleep. I can’t help but smile softly at her as she comes awake.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm… I fell asleep?” She rolls to her back and wipes at her eyes. I reach over and gently dust an eyelash away from her cheek.

“Love, you’ve been out for an hour or so. You drove everyone else away with your sweet snoring.” Sitting up, she looks around us, eyes wide and darting around, pink staining her cheeks. Most of the others are gone, but it had nothing to do with her.

Only a handful of people are spread across the lawn. We pack up the trash and remnants of our food quietly. Watching a couple kids playing with their mum.

There’s a path near where we’re sitting leading away from the house. An older couple passes by, holding hands as they stroll toward the car park. Lis leans into me and quietly asks, “How long do you think they’ve been married?”

“What makes you think they're married?” I lean in closer. “Maybe they meet here for their weekly tryst.” Her face—Jesus, the look on her is priceless.

She pulls away, and stares at me, her mouth forming that perfect little “O.” “Aidan, they've got to be in their seventies—really? They’re married and have kids and probably a ton of grandkids.” She gets a good smack in on my arm and I grudgingly release my hold. She looks suddenly shy and a little unsure as she asks, “Do you…um, want to go see the gardens?” She looks around like she’s trying to find a place to escape to.

We’re going to have to talk about that.

We have a lot of shite we need to talk about, but not today. It can wait for another day. Lorna didn’t answer my call this morning, so it’s best if I wait to talk about that bit.

The path leads to terraced gardens. I catch the sweet heady scent of the flowers well before the riot of colors surround us. The gentle breeze carries the fragrance through the tunnel of the trees. I stop to pull my camera out of the case as Lis walks on ahead. The sunlight dapples through the trees casting her in the most beautiful green and golden glow.

“Lisbeth, will you stop a moment?” I snap several frames just as she turns to look back at me. Her smile soft and her eyes go from questioning to sparkling in a heartbeat.

Lis hops down the steps as she leads us deeper into the gardens. The color is breathtaking. I stutter to a stop when we round a corner—graced with the sight of a gazebo at the far end of a reflecting pool. The light. The sun dipping lower in the sky; we’re coming up on the golden hour. The time when the sun’s rays are pure magic. I live for light like this.

She glides along the edge of the pool toward the gazebo, arms out to the sides for balance. There’s a statue of a woman at the far end. Grecian? Roman? It hardly matters. It’s a beautiful day and I have a subject I can’t wait to shoot.

She stops in front of the statue and gazes up at it, taking in its form.

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