Chapter Thirteen

Aiden

 

Again, I awoke to an empty bed. After our encounter in the kitchen, we had more wine and stayed naked, and I carried her to my bed, what I thought would be our bed. When did she leave, and why? I had a little too much wine, so I barely remembered falling asleep, but I knew she was snuggled under my arm when I dozed off, where I thought she’d be this morning when I woke.

I was furious, confused, and—even though I hated to admit it—hurt.

My feet kicked at the sheets they were tangled in until I was freed. I stepped out of bed, ready to confront Blake, demanding an explanation when I realized I’d be more persuasive if I wore pants.

I found a pair of thin plaid sleeping pants hanging over the chair by my bedroom window and slid them up to cover my body. The house was quiet, so I assumed Blake was still sleeping. It was early, so early that the sun was still trying to rise from the earth, and the darkness still invaded through the windows.

I stormed down the hall to Blake’s room, determined to make my intentions clear to my wife, if somehow I’d not managed to do so the night before.

Her door was only partially closed, so I pushed it open to see inside. My heart raced with excitement as I found Blake on the bed, nude, uncovered, and so fucking beautiful my heart nearly exploded as I stared at her.

She looked so peaceful that I hated to wake her, but no, I was on a mission, and she needed to hear me out.

I reached down, placing my hand on her warm ass cheek, shaking her gently to pull her from her slumber. A little snort escaped her nose or throat; I couldn’t tell which. I chuckled, suddenly feeling that strange feeling in my gut again. Damn, I loved and hated what she did to me.

I shook her again, this time with a little more vigor, pushing my gooey feelings back down deep. I had to stick to my guns here, make myself heard, and Blake getting me all flustered with her beauty, her cute little sleeping noises…no, that wouldn’t work.

She shuffled, her legs opening just enough to give me a peek at her pink flesh as she lifted from her pillow. Bleary-eyed, she stared at me, her upper lip snarled like a dog ready to bite. I knew she was about to unload on me, her pleasant slumber interrupted by my rude intrusion into her room.

“You. Me. Date. Tonight, seven o’clock, and wear a damn dress,” I blurted, and quickly made my way out of her room and back into mine.

I showered for the day without bothering to check back on Blake. I said my peace. My feelings were more than clear.

Blake never came out of her room as I left for work. Once I arrived, I quickly settled into my desk to finish paperwork I’d neglected.

“Hey, I hear congratulations are in order,” Mr. Tate announced loudly as he walked through my storeroom floor.

I lifted my head from the paperwork, smiled at the man who’d given me more work than any other client, and pushed aside what I was working on to greet him.

“Thank you,” I stood from my chair to reach across the desk to shake his extended hand.

He was at least in his seventies, widowed, and probably the wealthiest man in town. He made his money in oil before moving to the small town of Del Rio. I wasn’t surprised that he’d heard the news. The small town was notorious for spreading information with lightning speed.

“I wasn’t even aware you were seeing anyone,” Mr. Tate noted, lifting his plaid hat to scratch at his bald head.

Age spots covered his dome, and what little hair was left was tattered, frayed, and thin. His eyes were still bright blue, as blue as the day he was born I imagined, and his smile filled with life.

“It was sudden,” I smiled.

I hated to lie to the old man, but what choice did I have?

“Liam’s sister, so you two probably knew each other growing up?” he questioned.

I nodded. That was at least one thing I didn’t have to lie about. I’d known Blake for as long as I could remember.

“Ya know, I met my wife when I was twelve, and she was fifteen. It was taboo to date an older woman back then, still, most shake their heads. She was beautiful, long red hair, freckles, and braces so shiny they reflected the sun into my eyes, making it hard to see. I knew I would marry her the moment I set eyes on her,” he remembered fondly.

“Sometimes, you just know,” I grinned.

“Was it like that for you, and…what was her name again? Blake?” he asked.

“Yes, Blake. Not exactly. She was my best friend’s younger sister, off limits,” I chuckled, realizing that still wasn’t far from the truth. If Liam knew what we’d done, he’d kill me.

“But you always wanted that chance, eh?” he laughed with a smile.

I smiled in his direction, avoiding answering his question directly. Yes, I’d had a crush on Blake, but I hadn’t really thought about making a move, at least not until now.

“Well, glad it all worked out. Love has a way of doing that, working out,” he sighed.

Mr. Tate placed a manila folder on my desk, with what I assumed were the plans for his new patio. On top of it was a square envelope, the kind that holds greeting cards, and my name was scribbled on it with arthritic cursive.

“That’s just a little something for you and your new bride,” Mr. Tate smiled, nodding towards the envelope as my eyes lingered on it.

“You shouldn’t have. I can’t accept anything,” I argued.

“Nonsense. Every newlywed couple deserves a little something to congratulate them,” he insisted.

“Thank you,” I sighed, realizing that I wouldn’t win this battle, but feeling horrible for taking a gift for a wedding that was only made for convenience.

“All the plans are in the folder. There’s no rush. I’m sure you’re pretty worn out with a new wife in the house,” he grinned, lifting his left fuzzy white eyebrow high on his forehead.

I laughed.

After he left, I shoved the envelope in my briefcase. I’d show it to Blake and let her open it with me before our date. That sounded so weird to say in my head, date. I was going on a date with my wife. Wow, I really was doing things ass backward.

The rest of the day was smooth, mostly peaceful so I could finish the paperwork. Clients that did stop in all congratulated me, asking about my relationship, and how we met. I had very few answers for them, only able to give them the truth. I’d known her since I was young, she came back into town recently, and we got married. Most everyone seemed to buy my story, or my lack thereof. The thought of young love, of true love, had people in a warmed spirit, willing to accept anything I told them.

I packed up my stuff for the day and was ready to head home, excited about our date night when I heard the bell sound above my front door. I was all set to rush whoever it was off, explaining I’d be back in the morning and whatever they had could wait until then, when my abuela walked into my office.

She somehow seemed shorter than when I’d seen her last, and the wrinkles in her face deepened. I smiled in her direction, feeling the warmth of her smile as she directed it to me, and then moved quickly to greet her with open arms.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, curious about the reason for her surprise visit.

“I was in town, visiting Mr. George,” she said softly.

“Mr. George, the attorney?” I questioned, now really curious.

“Yes. I wanted to get some things in order, and now that you’re married, I had to make a couple changes,” she explained.

“Changes, what changes?” I questioned.

“In my will. I wanted to make sure that Blake was named, and any future children you may have were cared for as well,” she smiled brightly.

My heart sank deep into my chest. I could feel the guilt rolling through my veins. Fuck, why did she have to go and do that?

“I don’t want you to do that,” I blurted.

The old woman’s hands lifted to her hips, and she stared into my eyes with a sternness I knew not to argue with, at least not if I wanted to win.

“It’s already done,” she demanded.

“We’ll talk about this later,” I shrugged, hoping to find a way to change her mind without tipping her off that I’d duped her and my mother.

I felt horrible.

“If you’re leaving, you can walk me to my car,” she smiled.

“Sure thing,” I agreed, holding out my arm for her to grip.

I helped her into her black Kia after locking up the shop. I watched and waved as she pulled out, nearly taking down a street sign and pummeling a pedestrian on a bike. I chuckled as she smiled and drove off. How the woman still had her driver’s license was beyond me, but she managed to pass her last test six months ago.

I climbed into my truck, pulled out of my space, and headed home. I was anxious about date night, and even more anxious to see Blake all dressed up.

As I pulled into my driveway, I noticed Blake’s car sitting in the same spot where it was when I’d left for work. The light was on in the living room, and the television created a glow through the thin sheers in the window.

I walked inside, hoping to find her dressed and ready, but instead, found her on the couch wearing sweats. She was lounged along the cushions, her leg tossed over the back of the sofa, and her hair pulled into a loose bun atop her head.

“Why aren’t you ready?” I scoffed.

I couldn’t deny I was irritated and hurt. It was nearly six o’clock, and I’d rushed home to make sure we could get a good table at the only nice restaurant just outside of town.

“You were serious?” she questioned.

My cheeks burnt with anger and frustration as I stared at her with dismay. No, she wasn’t going to get to me. I was doing this. We were doing this.

“Yes. I was serious. So, I suggest you get dressed. Otherwise, you’re gonna be embarrassed sitting at dinner in your sweats,” I snarled, moving past her and towards my bedroom.

As I made my way to the hall, I called back to her, “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”