Page 109 of Not in My Book

“You need help with four beers?” Logan asked. I kicked him under the table, widening my eyes. “Oh. I mean. What a great idea,” he said in a flat tone.

Once they left, I looked back at Logan. “Did he tell you?”

“Jesus Christ, did he ever,” he huffed. “Tyler’s been blowing up my phone. Every time Jess texts him he’ll send a screenshot, super excited.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” I gushed.

Logan scowled. “Does no one care about Emily and me?”

“You texted us the next morning that she had a toe ring, and you couldn’t support that decision,” I said, flatly.

He lifted his chin. “Well, I couldn’t. Anyway, I don’t understand why Jess and Tyler are acting like we don’t all know about them.”

I shrugged. “Sometimes a new relationship is better when it’s just yours, and you don’t have to explain it to everyone.”

“Whatever. If they start playing footsie under the table, drinks are on Tyler.”

We quieted when they returned with the bottles, giggling.

“Tell us more about Aiden,” Logan urged. “We want all the nasty details.”

Jess smacked him on the head. “Don’t be weird about it.”

“Is this abuse Logan night? Did I miss the sign on the board?” Logan said drily.

“We are kind of dying to know,” Tyler admitted.

They hung onto every word as I relayed the story the same way I had to Alexa. Jess grabbed my hand and squeezed it, excited for me.

“Who knew Aiden had the ability to smile? Let alonelove,” Logan joked.

“I’ve kind of always liked Aiden.” Tyler frowned. “I never thought he was as bad as you guys said.”

“He’s not so bad.” I shrugged, sipping on my beer. I tried to be nonchalant but I counted down the minutes until I could head to his place.

We becamethatcouple. The one I always envied. Who sat on the same side of a booth at a restaurant. Who made out in stacks of books and on corners of streets and didn’t care who saw.

I spent most nights at his place because I was obsessed with his brownstone. I loved just sitting by the window and reading while the sun set. Tonight, I waited at his door with a bag of Peruvian food from our new favorite restaurant, Inti. I had come straight from work and still had my tie hanging loosely around my neck. My feet werekillingme.

When Aiden opened his front door, he was wearing a white t-shirt and my favorite gray sweatpants. I had gotten used to his casual clothes, but it had taken time.I’d been genuinelyshockedto find out that he owned flannel shirts. He was on the phone but smiled when he saw me and beckoned me inside, taking the bag of food.

“Yes, I do understand,” he clipped into the phone. He covered the speaker with his hand and mouthed, “Sorry.”

I waved him off and slipped out of my shoes before settling onto the living room couch.

“I’m not talking about this anymore, Dad.” Aiden held the phone between his ear and shoulder, unpacking the bag onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “We talked about this months ago. I have no interest in the open position, and I won’t change my mind.” His tone was authoritative, and I knew it pissed his father right off. “Have a good night.”

He tossed his phone on the table, running a hand down on his face. “Sorry.” He sat on the couch next to me and handed me the box with camarones in it. “My dad was riding my ass again.”

“Same thing?” I frowned.

“Always is. He’s still hoping that one day I’ll take over and run the company or I’ll ‘wake up to reality,’ as he says. There’s some management job available in the financial department, and he wants me to take it to get to know the company.”

“What does your dad even do?”

“It’s some stupid app that helps you trade easier on the stock market. It blew up when I was a kid, and he sees it as his son more than me. He wants to start his own Huntington legacy.” He cleared his throat, deepening his voice. “Aiden, you need to think about your future. Aiden, you can’t live off your mother’s money forever.”

“Aiden, I think you’re a great writer and those pants make your ass look good,” I said with a deep voice.

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