Page 9 of Troubles

I send up a prayer that Gracyn didn’t take her black knit swing dress with her as I rifle through her overflowing closet. I have no idea where we’re going tonight, but that dress is my favorite and I can dress it up or down easily enough, depending on what Aidan has on.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’s going to be here soon.

Finally, in the very back of her closet, I find the dress and pull it over my head while running back to my room for shoes. Taupe ankle boots or spiky heels—I grab both and set them by the front door.

After another coat of mascara, a little blush, and some lip gloss, I step back, trying to see myself as Aidan will. I haven’t been on a first date in more than four years, and my nerves are just kicking in to full riot mode. I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a knock at the door.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself, but my heart slams in my chest as I swing the door open.

Aidan’s black hair is still damp from his shower or maybe he took the time to style it. The curve of his lips, the stormy night of his eyes. The scruff on his jaw. I want to stand here and admire him, commit everything to memory—and maybe mess him up just a little.

His crisp white shirt stretches across his shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the pure strength of his forearms. My eyes travel down his body taking in the way his dress pants fit snugly to his hips and thighs. He’s even polished his shoes—totally an odd thing to notice but Rob would never have bothered with that. He’d have bought new ones.

Aidan cares how he looks, more than just a change of clothes and spray of cologne.

I get caught staring and feel a hot blush searing my cheeks. I bite at my lip and meet his smiling glance as I try to cover this awkward feeling. “You look great.” His smile crinkles the corner of his eyes calming my inner mess.

“Thanks. You’re sure, then, or do you want to take another look before we go?” he teases and reaches for the jacket I threw over the back of the couch. I slide my feet into my heels and laugh.

As he helps me slip into my jacket, he runs his fingers lightly down my arms—leaving a trail of goose bumps—until his fingers find the inside of my wrists. His touch there sends tingles through my entire body; it takes everything I have not to shudder. “Shall we go?” he rasps out as he reaches for the door sliding his other hand to my lower back, guiding me out.

6

Aidan

Iguide her down the stairs to the walkway in front of her building keeping a hand at her back as much as I can. “Are you okay to walk? It’s just a few blocks.” I’d made reservations at a café close to where she lives, but those shoes she put on—fuck me.

She smiles and nods, teetering as we start toward the restaurant. I reach for her hand to steady her and tuck it securely into the crook of my elbow. The need to touch her driving me, I clasp my other hand over the top of hers, holding her firmly in place. Her gaze meets mine, followed by a sweet smile and a squeeze to my arm.

She blatantly checked me out when she opened the door to her flat. Her gaze lit every inch of my body, lingering on what she obviously liked. She moves her hand to my bicep. I can’t help but flex the muscle; I want to impress her. I want to feel her hands caress me the way her eyes did. She shudders almost imperceptibly as I move my hand to reach for that spot on her wrist again. I rub small circles there with the pad of my thumb, focusing entirely on her reaction, the hitch in her breath. The soft sigh she lets escape.

The café is fine. Dinner’s lovely. But Lis? Lis is fucking brilliant.

With the table separating us, it’s awkward to reach across to her, and I miss the contact.

“Tell me more, Lisbeth. Why nursing?” The more time I spend with her, the more I want to know what’s in her head, her heart. What her dreams are.

“I like to take care of people, help them when they can’t do things for themselves. I get to see life in all its forms—beginning through the end. There’s something beautiful about that, reverent.”

My breath catches in my throat and I roll my lips in between my teeth.

Her fork clatters to the table and she reaches for my hand. “Aidan, are you okay? I’m—did I say something?”

“Erm, no. You’re fine.” I shake my head, unable to form the words just yet. Do I want to share this? Open up my heart the way I’ve already asked Lis to do?

Her touch is warm when she reaches her hand to cover mine, soothing me—calming me. I look up and her lips are pressed tightly together, dipping down at the corners. This was supposed to be a nice dinner with a lovely distraction. How did I get to a place where I’m shoving down raw emotions at the same time that I’m wanting to bare my soul?

I clear my throat and stare at nothing across the room. “I’m fine, I just—my brother just passed away. That’s…that’s why I’m here. In the States, I mean. I had to get away.” I blink back the sting in my eyes and force a tight smile to my lips.

“I’m so sorry. What—do you—I’m sorry.” Lisbeth wraps her free hand around mine, grasping it between hers and for the first time since I watched Michael’s coffin get lowered into the ground, I feel able to say the words.

“He died very suddenly, diagnosed and then gone in a matter of weeks.” How can that be? I don’t want to do this, have this huge heavy weight smothering us. “He was thirty-two—far too young to die, but he’d be pissed if he thought he were ruining our evening.” It’s true, actually. He’d be livid with me with how this is turning out.

The laughter comes out unbidden and Lis looks a little shocked. “He was a smart-arse; I’m sure that comes as a huge surprise.” This is what Michael would want, how he would want to be remembered. “The night before he passed I was sitting with him and he said, ‘it was hard and fast, and over way too quick’ and then he cracked up laughing like a twelve-year-old boy.”

Lis smiles broadly and nods her head. She seems to get it. The need to laugh and hold desperately the happy memories. I raise my glass to his honor and finish my whiskey.

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