Page 7 of Lonely Beard
Fair point. I flick at a jar of wooden spoons and spatulas, chewing on my bottom lip.
“What’s your place like?” Aiden asks suddenly, and it’s such a surprise that I blurt out an honest answer.
“Lonely.”
He goes quiet, stirring the chili.
“I mean, it’s a cute apartment,” I hurry to add. Why did I tell him that? “There’s a reading nook in one window, and I always wanted one of those growing up. Though I don’t have much free time to read anyway, and actually the only things I’ve read there have been work reports and client profiles, but I like my nook. I sewed my own cushions to decorate it.”
Aiden grunts. I think that means, “Please, go on.”
“I thought about getting a cat to keep me company, but it doesn’t seem fair. I’m barely home, you know? Always at the office or out at networking events. Flying out to meet grumpy mountain men, et cetera. And even the grouchiest cats like to berate their owners now and then.”
“So no soulmate match for you?” If Aiden stares any harder at the chili, it’s gonna part like a lumpy red sea.
“Ha.” My elbow digs into his ribs and he shifts an inch closer. Heat spreads over my side, and I’m reminded again how big and solid he is. How muscled and manly. Oof. “Employees don’t use the service. That would be super inappropriate.”
“Right.”
There’s another long silence, and this time, there’s more simmering in this cabin than a pot of chili. Something warm and gooey; something that makes my tummy flutter. I open my mouth—then close it again. Other people’s love lives, those are easy, but my own? God help me.
Doesn’t matter. Inappropriate. Gah.
“Will it be much longer?” I lean over and inhale the spicy steam. When was the last time someone else cooked for me? I can’t remember, but I amexcited.“I’m starving.”
* * *
Two heaping bowls of chili and one food baby later, I lay sprawled on Aiden’s rug. The fire crackles in the log burner, the heat scorching one side of my face, but I’m too sleepy and full to move. His woolen sweater is so soft and comfy, and my toes are toasty in my borrowed socks. I’m a happy little dormouse.
Have I ever been this relaxed before? Doubt it. And somehow, the branches cracking and wind roaring outside only make me feel cozier.
“Okay, I get it.” I wave a clumsy hand in the air, like I’m casting a spell over the whole firelit cabin. “I get the appeal. The whole mountain man thing.”
“Oh yeah?” Aiden’s stretched out on the rug by my side, arms folded behind his head, his customary frown pinned on the rafters. We both took one look at the austere sofa after dinner then melted onto the floor by the fire. “You gonna marry one of my neighbors too?”
I snort. “Hardly. No, I mean, I get the cabin life. Cozying up in the wilderness; chopping firewood and jumping in piles of leaves. Inviting packs of wolves around for tea and all that.”
“I’m not sure you do.” Aiden’s broken voice sounds amused. When he turns to face me, his green eyes twinkle. “Is all your information straight from a storybook?”
“Pretty much.”
His beard shifts as he grins. “Explains a lot.”
We lapse back into companionable silence, and it hits me like one of those lightning bolts tearing up the mountainside: this is what I’ve been missing. This is the source of the dull ache in my life. I’ve been so freaking lonely, and I’ve been working too hard to even notice it.
Being here with Aiden, our steady breaths falling into sync… it’s like medicine.
Aiden must be lonely too. Why else would he sign up for Soulmate Express? And yet his matches failed, and he’s still here all alone, and I hate that. I hate that I let him down. And now he’s given up.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I huff, glaring up at the rafters. “It just—it makes no sense.”
Aiden rolls onto his side, coming to face me with that frown. “What doesn’t?”
I jab a hand up and down the length of his whole body. “This! You’re like… okay, say we’re in a nature documentary, okay? We’re two monkeys. Or baboons. You and me and all the people signed up to the mail order program, say we’re baboons and we’re all pure instinct. Animals.”
“…Okay.” Aiden’s watching me closely, like I might need to be wrestled into a padded room at any moment. Whatever.
“And using my pure baboon instincts, I can tell you that you’re the whole primal package. You know? You’re big and strong and smart and funny. You have a nice nest,” I wave an arm wildly around the cabin, “and you’re super capable. You can hunter-gather for future baboon babies.”
