Page 37 of The Lies I've Told
“Um, hi, Mom. Dad,” I said before running over to give them hugs and kisses. “How are you? How’s the baby? And Molly?”
Why are you here?
Why ishehere?
We finished our mini-reunion, and they returned to their coffee at the table.
“We’re good,” my mom said. “The baby is fantastic, but you’ll see that for yourself. Jake, Molly, and little Ruby are being discharged this morning. We decided to leave early and avoid the traffic. Plus, I figured I could get some things set up for them at the house.”
Okay, I guessed that made sense.
“And you needed breakfast?” I asked, glancing over to Aiden, who threw one of his devil-may-care, panty-melting grins at me. Except I thought he missed because my mom seemed to melt into a puddle behind me and broke into spontaneous laughter.
No, not laughter. A giggle.
My mom fucking giggled, like a little schoolgirl.
“We popped in to see if you needed anything and found Aiden here, making himself a cup of coffee. And wouldn’t you know it? He offered to make us breakfast. Isn’t that kind of him?”
I looked from my mom to my father, who seemed a little less thrilled with the idea. He looked up at me, his forehead wrinkled in obvious disbelief.
He couldn’t believe my mom was acting like this either.
Good. Glad I wasn’t the only one.
I gave him a small smile, and he returned it.
“Well, why don’t I take over since Aiden is our guest, and you can tell me all about my new little niece? How does that sound?”
Aiden, who had remained quiet through this whole family reunion as he flipped bacon and scrambled eggs, continued to ignore what was going on. As if he didn’t know what he was doing to my mom. He probably lived for flirting. God knew he’d done his fair share with me.
My thoughts briefly drifted back to my dream, the memories of that car. To the words he’d said.
He’d probably flirted his way right into my bed.
Or his.
Whatever.
“Oh, I don’t—” my mother protested, clearly enjoying the view of Aiden cooking.
“That sounds lovely,” my father interjected.
“Good.” I smiled, turning back toward Aiden. “Thank you so much for accommodating my parents after their long trip home. It’s really polite, but theprofessionalthing for me to do is to cook for you, and I wouldn’t want you to think I’m notprofessional.”
The emphasis wasn’t lost on him, and as our eyes locked, I saw disappointment in his.
“Right. Of course,” he said. “I overstepped.”
I’d expected some sort of snarky response. A rebuttal. Even a flirtatious remark.
But not disappointment.
Who was he to be disappointed with me?
I watched as he cleaned his hands on a dish towel and set it down next to the stove.
He gave me one last look before heading for the hallway. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to get a run in before breakfast.”
