Page 56 of The Breaking Point

“They were there with their kids, Aiden.”

He leans in, totally deadpan. “I don’t care. Nobody hits on my woman.”

I should not like this side of him. It is irrational and a little archaic and completely caveman. But I do. God help me, I really do. So, I ask, gently, curiously, “What else?”

He doesn’t look at me right away. His gaze stays on the path ahead, lit dimly by the soft spill of a distant lamp post. “The reason I didn’t push for the wedding sooner,” he says after a moment, “was because I was saving.”

“Saving?” I echo.

“Yeah,” he says. “I wanted to throw you your dream wedding. You always said you didn’t care about that stuff, and maybe you meant it, but I wanted it anyway. I wanted the big white dress and the string lights and our kids walking you down the aisle and everything you said you didn’t need. Because you deserved it. And maybe…” He pauses, glancing at me sideways. “Maybe I also wanted all those horny fuckers to see you were mine.”

I blink, stunned. “I thought your mom gave us half.”

He gives me the slowest, most deliberate side eye. “You think?”

I squint at him. “Wait. Are you telling me-”

He shrugs, a little too casually. “She gave us a little. I covered the rest. Sold my motorcycle, remember?”

“I thought that was because you got scared of crashing.”

He scoffs. “No. I loved that bike. I sold it because I loved you more.”

My heart kicks hard in my chest. For years, I had no idea. I thought he pushed for the wedding cause he tired of the jabs. But now, strolling through the park with him, I see it differently. I see the quiet things he did, the unspoken sacrifices, the little choices that I never even noticed.

“You should’ve told me,” I say, voice soft.

“I didn’t want credit,” he says. “I just wanted you to be happy.”

I stop walking and gently tug him to a halt beside me. The path behind us is quiet, the night still. I step closer, close enough to feel his breath, and lean up, my lips brushing his as I whisper, “Iwashappy. That day… I was really, really happy.”

His eyes search mine, like he’s checking if I mean it, if he can let himself believe it. And then, slowly, his hands come up, one cupping my cheek, the other settling at my waist.

The kiss that follows isn’t rushed. It’s deep, full, almost a claim. The kind that says everything we haven’t dared to say. That we’re still here. Still trying. Still wanting. I melt into him, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls me closer, holding me like I’m something precious.

When we finally break apart, Aiden leans his forehead against mine. His hands settle on my waist, and he starts to sway us gently right there on the path. There’s no music, just the rhythm of us and the quiet hum of the park around us.

People walk past, glancing, curious.

“People are looking at us,” I murmur.

“Let them,” he says, eyes still closed. “I’ve got the most beautiful woman in my arms.”

My heart squeezes. Even after a few minutes, I can still feel the warmth of his body pressed to mine, still feel him resting low against my stomach. Without thinking, I shift slightly, rubbing against him with the smallest movement.

He groans, low and strained. “You’re killing me.”

I blink up at him, all innocence. “What?”

He narrows his eyes like he knows exactly what game I’m playing. “Youknewwhat you were doing when you put those heels on, woman.”

I laugh, soft and unrepentant. “Oh, so you remember these?”

“You,” he says, voice low, “wearing nothing but those heels… our first night on the honeymoon? That’s burned into my spank bank forever.”

I laugh again, leaning into him as we continue to sway to music only we can hear. The world spins around us, slow, distant, irrelevant.

Right now, there’s only him.

---