Page 68 of The Lies I've Told
Waking up the next morning, I felt raw.
Like all my emotions had been gobbled up, and I was running on autopilot. Stretching under the covers, I found myself alone in Aiden’s bed. When I sat up, as the sunlight poured in, there was nothing of his around. The clothes he’d dropped on the floor last night before he crawled in bed next to me, all gone.
Not one to lounge about, I decided to get up and going. Although Aiden had given me a tour of his cozy apartment last night, seeing it in the daytime was quite different. Rising from the bed, I took my time in walking to the bathroom as I checked out the artwork on the walls and, of course, the sculptures.
He’d mentioned several were his, but he had seemed almost shy about naming which ones. The only piece of Aiden’s I’d ever seen in person was the memorial he’d done for Ocracoke, and although I’d told him I had pulled off the side of the road to take a photo of it, what I hadn’t said was that I’d spent more than an hour there, staring at that sculpture.
I’d been completely enamored by it.
Moved even.
And, yes, at the time, I’d told myself it was because of Dean and Jake; because it was my hometown and how closely it’d affected my life. But, now, as my hand ran over a small stone piece on Aiden’s dresser that bore the same fluid lines and drew that same deep meaning within me, I knew it had to be more.
I was so in over my head.
“Guard your heart, Millie.”
I let out a pained laugh as I stared down at the beautiful sculpture.
Too late, I thought.
Too damn late.
“That was one of my first pieces.” Aiden’s voice cut through the silence.
I quickly brushed away a tear that had found its way onto my cheek and plastered on a fake smile before I turned around.
God, he was beautiful.
I didn’t think I’d ever grow tired of looking at him. From those hypnotic hazel eyes to the way his hair always seemed to be messy and tame at the same time, right down to the graphic T-shirts he loved to wear like a uniform.
Setting down a brown bag and a couple of coffees on the kitchen counter, just outside of the bedroom, he walked towards me, his hands finding my waist like a compass. I leaned into the warmth of his chest, and his chin rested on my collarbone.
“I was supposed to sell it to this wealthy couple in Manhattan. A symbol of their never-ending love on the their anniversary,” he began to explain as his thumbs rubbed slow circles on my bare skin. “But the wife died suddenly, and when I went to deliver it, the poor husband couldn’t bear to look at it.”
“That’s horrible. You would think he’d want to keep it as a reminder of their love,” I said, noticing the way the sculpture seemed to capture a couple passionately embracing. It was abstract, no faces or distinct features, as was the style of most of Aiden’s work, yet somehow, he’d managed to create such emotion and movement.
“Everyone handles grief in their own way. Some hold on, grasping at whatever they can, trying to keep a sliver of hope alive.”
“And everyone else?”
“They run,” he said simply as the warmth of his body left mine. “I got bagels, the best in the city. Want one? Oh, and coffee, too.”
The sudden change in his demeanor felt like a slap in the face, and I was bewildered by the backlash of it.
“Um, no. Not right now. I think I’m going to hop in the shower,” I said, my voice betraying the wave of emotions swelling in my heart.
Our eyes met, and I tried to swallow the giant lump that had formed in my throat. I could see the indecision in his gaze. But I made the decision for him and turned toward the bathroom door, ending the conversation before it began.
“Guard your heart Millie,” he’d said to me.
I hadn’t listened the first time, and I lost so much already.
If I was going to survive Aiden Fisher, I needed to hold on to what shattered remnants I had left; otherwise, I’d end up like that memorial on the side of the road.
Just dust in the wind.
“I’m light and breezy. Cool and casual,” I mumbled to myself under my breath as I gave one final glance in the mirror.
