“Babe, where do we keep the wood glue?” Aden calls from the bedroom. Jack’s sitting in the living room watching his favorite cartoon, and me? I’m feeling like I’ve fallen through the rabbit hole.

“It’s in the kitchen sink drawer,” I answer, holding my face away from the phone.

“Did he just call you babe?” Daria asks, making me sigh.

“Yeah. I’ve tried to discourage him, but he says he’s trying it out for size. Whatever that means.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I tried to get him to call me darling, but that didn’t work.”

“Darling?”

“Yeah. Like those dreamy heroes in the movies from the 1950’s?”

“Girl, no man with balls is going to call a girl darling these days. Unless maybe he’s from the South and it’s going to sound much more like darlin’ with a twang.”

“Whatever.”

“I take it, since it’s almost Jack’s bedtime and Aden is still in your house, not in his motel room, or screaming at your door with the police, that you haven’t told him the truth yet.”

“I’ve tried,” I defend, basically lying. But, I’ve tried to tell him parts of the truth all week long and I should definitely get points for that.

“You’ve tried?”

“Yeah, I did. Earlier this week, I even told him how we slept together and included the fact that he was drunk and I was drugged.”

“Umm…honey, I’ve never been so drugged that I didn’t know if a man was…”

“I wasn’t… but damn Daria, it had been two years and he’s sexy in a jackass-but-still-hot kind of way.”

“Hey girl, I’m not judging. So, when are you going to tell him the truth?”

“Soon…”

“Hope—”

“I am Daria! I promise. It’s just… to be honest, and trust me I know how horrible this sounds, but…”

“But?”

“It’s been a really good week,” I whisper guiltily. And it has. Aden has been here for a full week. The motel looks amazing. We’ve moved into a routine where I watch Jack and he works on small things that need fixed. Then, he’ll watch Jack and I’ll clean… and sometimes Aden and I both will work outside while Jack plays in his new sandbox… a sandbox that Aden made him. Aden didn’t do it because I asked. He did it because he found sand from something the contractors did. It was the kind that was safe for kids, so Aden took it along with some of the left over treated lumber he used to fix the railing with and…

He made a sandbox for my son.

My son has never had anyone do something for him because they wanted to—except me. And Aden fixed him a sandbox…just because he wanted to surprise Jack.

“Hope, honey, you know I love you.”

“I know.”

“The longer you wait to tell him, the worse the fall out is going to be, girl. You have to tell him. Think of it like ripping a band-aid off.”

“I just…can I have this weekend?”

“What happens if someone comes looking for him? I’m not trying to be a pain, honey. I’m just…really worried about you.”

“I know. I do. I’ll tell him tomorrow. I promise.”

“Okay. If you need a place to crash a few days. Come over. I miss seeing little Jack anyway.”

“I will. Love you Dar.”

“Love you too.”

“Tell me what?” Aden asks.

I blink a couple of times from shock. I didn’t expect Aden to be standing there.

“I… did you find the glue?”

“Yeah. What do you have to tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“I heard you tell Daria that you would tell me tomorrow. What are you going to tell me?”

“I could have been talking about someone else, you know. It didn’t have to mean you.”

“Was it someone else?”

“Well no,” I sigh and the sigh only deepens when Aden smiles.

This is a new Aden. An Aden that I never knew, and it’s an Aden that I’ve been treated to for a solid week. An Aden who is thoughtful, funny and sweet and yeah he can still be a grouch and a little hateful at times, but those times are not that often and when they happen…they’re kind of sexy.

He also has a really good smile. The kind that makes the little lines along the sides of his eyes crinkle and sometimes his dark eyes get a light in them that remind me of warm, melted chocolate. Which is why I’m caught staring at him right now, unable to think of anything else.

“Hope?” he prompts.

“Yeah?”

“What were you going to tell me?”

“You have a really nice smile.”

This is the moment that will always stay with me—like, for the rest of my life. Because it’s the moment I find out that Aden’s smile cannot touch Aden’s laugh. He laughs out loud and it’s like a one-two punch. I get the laugh and the smile—and they’re beautiful.

In moments like right now, it would be good if I reminded myself of what a dick the old Aden was. I need to try and remember that.

“Babe, what were you going to tell me?”

“Have you thought anymore about calling me pumpkin?”

“Uh…no. Don’t think that one’s going to happen.”

“I’m really not sure I like the babe,” I mutter, and I’m lying. I do like it. In fact, I remember him calling me that the night we slept together. The first time we had sex, we went to sleep. But he woke me up later that night. I was on my stomach and I remember him kissing my shoulder. I remember him brushing my hair to the side and I definitely remember his sleepy voice whispering in my ear.

“Babe, I got to have you again.”

I’ll never be able to forget that moment. It will live with me forever. I wake up thinking about it, I go to sleep thinking about it, and somewhere in the night, I get lost in dreams of it.

“Hope, you’re starting to fuck with my head here.”

I blink. If he only knew.

“What?” I whisper, panic filling me.

Did I give myself away? Does he know something? Oh God! Did he remember?

“You’re freaking me out. What do you need to tell me?”

“Oh…” Now is the moment. I need to tell him. It’s right there on the tip of my tongue. It’s time to come clean. Daria is right, I need to just rip off the band-aid and tell him the truth.

“Aden…”

“What?” he asks and this time it’s that exasperated tone that I remember from before, and one that I’ve forgotten this week, but not that often.

“Sometimes people do things out of fear, you know? Like, they can have the best of intentions, but they’re afraid to tell the truth. Afraid of the consequences, really, and you know sometimes things happen that are beyond our control. Right? Like, you mean to do something, but time gets away from you and you just forget. It’s not done intentionally at all and then something happens and reminds you that you didn’t do it and things go all bad and…”

“Hope. Stop.”

“…you don’t know what to do about it, so you keep quiet and… What?”

“You’re freaking me out, Babe. Just come out with it,” he says and that’s the moment I know for sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m unequivocally, going to Hell.

Going. To. Hell.

“I forgot your birthday.”

“Say what?”

“Your birthday. I forgot it. It was the day you fell and then you fell…so there could be no birthday festivities…”

“Festivities?” he laughs.

“Anyway,” I breathe out, pretending to be annoyed because, yet again, he’s being cute. “Then you were in the hospital and then you didn’t know who I was and then…”

“Babe, take a breath. Okay, so you forgot my birthday. Is that a big deal?”

“It is! This is a big birthday. A milestone really. We need to celebrate.”

“The motel’s grand opening is in two days,” he reminds me, and it is. He talked me into waiting and asking the local radio station and paper to promote the motel, so we set an official date. We had kind of kept our doors open during that time, but sadly no one magically showed up at the door.

“But we’re ready for the opening and Aden! It’s a—”

“Milestone,” he sighs. “Fine. We’ll do something tomorrow. You can bake a cake or something.”

“I’ll plan something special! Don’t worry. I’m really sorry I forgot.”

“Considering everything I’ve forgotten I don’t think it matters that much, Hope. I’m going to head on over to my room,” he says.

“Okay. Have a good night,” I tell him. He looks at me strangely.

“We’re going to have to have a real talk sometime soon, Hope,” he warns me and I get a funny feeling in my stomach. Real talks with someone you’re lying too like a lying, liar, mc-lying pants is bad. I’ve never had the occasion arise before, but I’m pretty sure I’m one hundred percent correct on that one.

“I’m always here to answer questions,” I tell him quietly, afraid he might take me up on it.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he mumbles behind his hand while he rubs his jaw.

“What?” I ask confused.

“How old am I?” he asks.

I blink. Why didn’t I demand his ID when he showed up at the motel? Better yet—where is that damn ID? Surely he didn’t travel and drive without a driver’s license.

“Hope?” he prompts again.

“Fifty.”

“What?” he growls and this is a real growl. It’s the bear-hurt-in-a-trap growl. It’s the run for your life, you’re approaching the danger zone kind of growl.

“You’re… uh fifty.”

“Fuc—”

“Aden! Little ears!” We both turn to look at Jack who has fallen asleep watching Trolls.

“You’re telling me I’m fifty-years-old?” he hisses.

“Well, yeah. That’s not old you know. George Strait will be like seventy. He may already be. You have a lot of good years left in you,” I tell him, trying to make him feel better. I really have no idea how old he is. I’m guessing he’s closer to forty than fifty, but I think he’s definitely past forty, I didn’t mean to offend him. I was just rounding up.

“How old are you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, Hope. If I’m fifty, then how old are you?”

“A gentleman is never supposed to ask a woman how old she is, Aden. It’s considered rude.”

“How old are you, Hope?” he asks again, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that his voice has a warning quality to it now.

I really should have gone with forty.

“I’m twenty-six,” I tell him with a frown.

“You’re twenty-six,” he repeats in a whisper. “You’re twenty-six and I’m fifty and you don’t see a problem with this?” he growls.

“Age is just a number. We get along great…well we did... Until….”

“I don’t want to know. I’m leaving before you can tell me something else and make me want to slit my wrists,” he mumbles, and then, just like that, he turns and leaves, leaving me to stare after him and wonder what I can do for his pretend birthday tomorrow.

Well that, and wondering just when I’m going to reach the point that I tell so many lies I can’t keep them straight and they all explode…

Right. In. My. Face.