Page 7 of Falling for You Again

“Nobody calls me Melissa, not even my mom,” I told him. “Thanks for your help. I was dying to get out of that dress.”

“The least I could do after plowing into you. Sorry about that.”

“It’s all good.” I brush off our run-in. We’d both been in a rush to board the plane. “How about that drink I promised you for helping me? Looks like I owe you dinner too.” I inspected the chicken meal that had gone cold while we dealt with the monstrous dress. The broccoli florets looked soggy.

“You also owe me an explanation. I’m curious why you bailed. If you want to talk about it.”

“Only if you tell me why marriage isn’t your thing.” Apparently, it wasn’t mine either since I’d proved Uncle Bear was right—balancing mycraft with a relationship was impossible—and my interest was piqued. I wondered what else we had in common.

“Deal.” He rubbed his hands together and flagged the flight attendant.

After our drinks had been replenished and we’d snacked on chicken salad sandwiches brought up from Economy, I asked Aaron about his stance on marriage. “Is it because you haven’t met the right person yet? Is that why it’s not your thing?”

“No, nothing like that. My parents have opinions about everything I do. I guess not marrying is my way of having some control over my life.”

“Look at you, you rebel.”

A shadow darkened his face before he cracked a smile. “I wish.”

“Are your parents married?”

“Divorced. They work together, which is fine. They’ve always had a great working relationship. But somewhere between raising me and my sister and running a business they forgot why they’d married in the first place.”

“That’s because it’s impossible to work with the person you love. Those relationships rarely work out.” When you fight over work at work, you’ll fight over work at home.

“Exactly. What about you? Your parents married?”

“Yes, and they shouldn’t be. They also work together but they bicker constantly.” I left it at that without explaining further. Conversations about my parents inevitably circled back to our weird living arrangement and why my uncle had to raise me.

“Cheers to questionable role models.” Aaron toasted his bourbon to my champagne. “What about you? What compels a bride to run from her own wedding?”

“A groom who asked her to give up a job she loved.”

“Oof.” Aaron grunted.

“I should have said something to him earlier, but I sort of freaked out when I got to the church. Took me long enough, but I finally remembered why I promised myself I’d never marry. Which is fine. My fiancé just now texted I wasn’t marriage material. Okay, that hurt.But we never would have worked out. Oh, gosh.” I startled, realizing something. “I guess Paul isn’t my fiancé anymore.”

Aaron made a short noise that sounded like a deflating balloon. “Screw Paul. What makes someone marriage material anyway? Someone who doesn’t snort when they laugh?”

I did exactly that and playfully shoved his arm. “Stop.”

He laughed, leaning into me, and I caught a hint of bourbon on his breath and pine on his skin. I sank farther into my seat, relishing his scent, and tucked a leg under me as I angled to face him more fully. “People put such ridiculous conditions on relationships. No wonder more marriages fail than succeed. What makes someone marriage material is someone you want to wake up with every morning. Their smile is the first thing you want to see each day. Simple as that.”

His head tilted as he studied me with a newfound intensity. “That’s really nice.”

I felt a warm flutter in my stomach and yearned to impress him further. “Another thing, he’ll prioritize us and our time together over friends and family. Paul didn’t do that. His family always came first. Like him asking me to give up my work because it interfered with his mom’s weekly family dinners.”

Aaron’s mouth turned down in a show of empathy, and he added his own thoughts. “She’ll love to dance with me. My ex-girlfriend didn’t.”

“Who doesn’t love to dance? He’ll sing his favorite songs with me.”

“Even if he can’t sing?”

“Even if she can’t dance?”

“Yes,” we said in unison, laughing at ourselves.

We were being spontaneous and random, and despite the circumstances that had brought me to him, I was enjoying myself. Talking with him was helping me forget why I’d ended up on the plane with him. I wanted to remember everything we were talking about. “We need to write these down.” I swiped his cocktail napkin. “Got a pen?”

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