I never did cave to the urge of jumping in the shower with Aiden, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t incredibly tempted. I spent the rest of my Friday morning being a good girl and finishing up my homework, knowing that Saturday’s Cassie would be all the more grateful for it when she wasn’t having to rush through slides before heading to labs. That proved to be true, since Aiden let me sleep in a bit this morning while he and Sophie snuck off to the New Children’s Museum at Sophie’s behest. I have to say this for the kid, she is all about milking her birthday week. It makes me laugh just thinking of Aiden’s huge form trying to crawl around on some of the more interactive exhibits with her. It also makes me a little wistful that I couldn’t go with them.
Currently, I’m sipping my morning coffee at the kitchen counter, living in a dazed sort of state as thoughts full of vibrant flashes from the day before, hell, the last several days (and nights, for that matter) flit through my head. My brain is saturated with thoughts of a deep voice and a hard body that can’t seem to get enough of me, of all people. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the heat of Aiden’s palms at my thighs, hear his low murmur of dirty words that might be becoming my own personal addiction. And sure, the guilt is still there, and I know without a doubt that I should be making plans to find a way to tell Aiden the truth—but it’s hard to focus on any of those things when I’m getting dicked down within an inch of my life every night.
I should really get finished up here and start getting ready to leave for St. Augustine’s. I need to leave within the hour, and I still haven’t dried my hair from my shower, and I have every intention of doing that, really.
If I can manage to stop being distracted by Aiden’s texts.
My phone buzzes at the counter as if summoned, and I’m biting back a grin as I swipe it over to read what he’s sent.
There’s a picture attached of Aiden looking disgruntled as he attempts to step out of a giant inflatable rainbow tube—his big body obviously too much for the children’s attraction. I can’t help but wonder how he manages to still look so good when he’s frowning.
CASSIE
I’m assuming Sophie took this? You look like you’re really struggling.
AIDEN
I told her I was too big for it.
CASSIE
We wouldn’t want to stifle her inquisitive mind though.
AIDEN
Hilarious. Have you left for school? You’re not texting and driving are you?
I can’t help but roll my eyes at this. It’s such a dad thing to ask. Still, I won’t pretend there isn’t a little flutter in my stomach that he’s concerned about me.
CASSIE
No, Dad. I’m still at home. I’m leaving soon though.
AIDEN
I don’t know how I feel about you calling me dad.
CASSIE
Would you prefer Daddy?
AIDEN
You realize they will take me to prison if I get hard in a museum full of children right?
CASSIE
Lol good thing for you I don’t have a daddy kink, or I would totally have some fun with this.
AIDEN
You’re evil.
CASSIE
You’ll just have to pay me back later. 😉
AIDEN
Completely evil.
CASSIE
Is Sophie having fun?
AIDEN
A blast. She’s kind of shy though. I can tell she’d like to join in with some of the other kids, but I can’t get her to take the first step.
CASSIE
She’s at a weird age. It can be hard making friends.
AIDEN
I know. I just hate seeing her struggle with it.
CASSIE
You can’t force it. It will happen. She’s too amazing for it not to.
AIDEN
You’re right.
Now hurry and get going so you don’t have to speed.
CASSIE
Okay, okay. Will do, Daddio.
AIDEN
Evil.
I laugh as I stow my phone in the pocket of my pajama pants, finishing the rest of my coffee and rinsing the mug before putting it in the dishwasher.
It’s funny, really. School used to be a greater source of anxiety; how I would pay for the next semester, if my loans would process, if I’d have to defer for another year—but with the salary I’ve been getting here, I’ve hardly needed to think about it at all, this last month. If it continues, this will be the first year of school I can pay for out of pocket without even thinking about student loans.
I don’t think I will ever fully get over what this job pays.
And that’s another part of this whole thing that makes me feel guilty; that’s on top of the knowledge that I still haven’t figured out how to tell him that this isn’t the first time we’ve been intimate, even if it’s the first time he’s touched me. There have been moments this week where I’ve wondered if it should bother me, the fact that I’m receiving wages from the man I’m sleeping with—but I tell myself that the two things are wholly separate. The fact that we’re making sure to keep our . . . antics away from Sophie’s eyes means it’s not completely sordid. It’s only a slight differentiation, one that probably doesn’t offer nearly as much justification as I would lead myself to believe—but it’s something, at least.
Still, it’s a little wild to think about only having one more year left of school—what should have been two years of grad school turning into four thanks to the wonderful experience of having to work my way through it. It’s a complete relief to see it coming to an end, to finally be close to the opportunity to get out there and do some real good, but I won’t pretend that it’s not a little unnerving, thinking of what I’ll do with my life after this. There’s a certain pressure that comes with graduation, with getting out into the world and doing something that has me reflecting on all the other aspects of my life, wondering where I might be in five years.
Thoughts that are only made more confusing by the distracting man with a dizzying smile thrown into the mix. I know that it’s entirely too early to even be daydreaming about anything with Aiden Reid, but can I really help it if some part of me is constantly thinking about the possibility of losing all of this? And not just Aiden but Sophie too. And that’s the driving factor that keeps me from telling him everything. For the first time in a long time, I feel almost like I belong here, that I’m doing good here, and given that it’s the first real family to welcome me . . . is it my fault that I would want to do anything I could to hold on to it a little longer?
This entire line of thought leaves my head a complete mess.
I am not naive to the fact I don’t have a lot to offer Aiden and Sophie outside of myself, that there are years and vast differences between us that I can’t change—but I can’t help but think about his quiet “I shouldn’t be thinking about you as much as I do” and its sequel, “I feel like I’m going crazy,” and that means something, right?
It’s silly of me to pin such notions to something so new, something that neither of us really knows what it even is—but I can’t help it, really. It’s just that Aiden Reid makes me feel a little crazy too. It’s enough to make anyone wonder.
It’s enough to make anyone worry about what waits for us at the end of this.
Our labs this time focus on assistive-pediatric-seating equipment, and focusing on the functions and parts of the different types of chairs they’ve brought in for us to study is a great distraction. I’ve been testing out the different tilting functions of the Rifton I’ve been assigned for the last twenty minutes or so, and I think I’m nearly ready to move on to the next model.
“Help me install this harness, would you?” Camila holds up the optional butterfly harness that can be added to this model. “I can’t figure out where it clips in.”
“Here,” I say, holding out my hand. “I think it clips in here.”
Camila watches as I find the attachment points for the harness, clipping all four into position until it’s properly installed.
“I totally missed that,” Camila huffs. “Some of these chairs are a doozy.”
“They’re amazing though,” I say. “There’s so much they can do now.”
“For real.” Camila examines the back of the chair, finding the tilt function and bringing the chair back into its first position. “I think we’ve got it now, don’t you think? Should we move on to the Leckey?”
“No tilt function with that one, at least,” I note.
“Right. Looks like that group is almost done with it. We can go grab it next.”
We take a seat near the other group who is still studying the different functions of the Leckey, Camila sprawling out next to me in the plastic chair and blowing out a breath. “Just this last year, and we’re done.”
“It’s crazy.”
“Do you think the boards are going to be brutal?”
“Probably,” I laugh. “But we’ll be fine.”
“Says you,” she snorts. “You’re top of the class.”
“You’re doing just fine.”
“How’s the nanny gig going? You were acting so weird last time I saw you.”
“Oh . . .” I blush, hoping she doesn’t catch it. I can’t exactly tell her that I’ve complicated matters further by sleeping with the person from my past who still doesn’t remember me. “Things are great. I really love Sophie, the little girl I nanny. She’s . . . a character.”
“I told you,” Camila laughs. “They can be something at that age.”
“You said you had a niece that age, right?”
“Lucia,” Camila tells me. “She’s a gremlin. Cute little thing though.”
I nod absently, watching the other group test the different modes of the chair as my thoughts wander. I can’t say why the idea pops into my head; maybe it’s just because I’m remembering Aiden’s texts earlier about how he wished Sophie had an easier time putting herself out there—but an idea sparks nonetheless.
“Hey, Camila . . .”
She turns to regard me. “Yeah?”
“Do you think your niece would enjoy a trip to the zoo?”
“I sense I’m walking into a trap.”
“It’s just . . . Sophie, she—she’s new at her school this year, and she’s had a hard time making friends. I just thought . . . if she could play with someone her own age without all the pressure of being in a swarm of kids at school . . . Is this a terrible idea?”
“For me maybe,” Camila snorts. “Didn’t I tell you Lucia was a gremlin?”
“Oh, come on. She’s your niece. She’s got to be a little cool.”
Camila narrows her eyes. “Are you trying to butter me up?”
“Is it working?”
She rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately. Fine. You’re buying lunch that day, by the way.”
“Of course. Anything. This is going to be so great.”
Camila is still grumbling even as I’m quietly celebrating my own genius.
The zoo?”
I refuse to be distracted by Aiden in his element, his arms crossed over his chef coat and his apron stained with bits of something or another as the rest of his staff works diligently behind him.
“She’ll love it,” I urge. “And my lab partner is going to bring her niece, so it will be a great chance for Sophie to get to know someone her own age.”
“Don’t let her hear you scheming like that,” he warns, leaning to peek into his office, where Sophie is still playing on her Switch at his desk. “I mean, I’m fine with it, but are you sure you want to? That’s going to make for a long day.”
“Of course! It’s going to be so fun. Especially for Sophie. Has she ever been?”
“Maybe once when she was smaller . . .” He rubs the back of his neck. “We haven’t gotten a chance since . . . well.”
“I get it.” I reach unconsciously for him, my fingers tripping over the edge of his apron at his waist before I remember where we are. I draw my hand back, clearing my throat. “You could always come with us. Play hooky?”
Aiden laughs, looking back at the flurry of activity behind him. “I think they might stick me in the oven if I tried it.”
“Just a thought.”
There’s a hint of a smile at his mouth when he turns back to me, and his eyes are warmer, making my stomach flutter. “Trust me, that’s where I’d rather be.”
“Well, I’ll send lots of pictures, at least.”
“Perfect. Text me a reminder in a bit, and when I have a break, I’ll order the tickets.”
“Oh, no, I can—”
“I’m getting them,” he says bluntly, leaving no room for argument.
My lips twitch. “Well, yes, sir.”
“We should probably add that to the list of phrases you can’t say to me in public.”
I raise an eyebrow, lowering my voice. “You’re becoming a regular pervert, aren’t you?”
“I think you just bring it out of me,” he chuckles.
The fluttering in my stomach is worse now, because I’m not just thinking of this last week together—I’m thinking of all the times he’s been even filthier than this in the dark of my room, where I couldn’t see his face. I have to suppress a shiver, trying to stow those thoughts away and focusing on Sophie instead.
“I’ll go tell her the news,” I say.
Aiden laughs again. “Just make sure you don’t let her know that it’s a playdate. She’s liable to kick you in the shins.”
“She would never,” I protest. “She loves me.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I roll my eyes as I stride past the kitchen toward the office on the other side, giving the doorframe a knock as I peek my head around it. “Hey, Soph. Got any plans tomorrow?”
“It’s Sunday,” she says with a frown. “And I’m ten.”
“What do you say to us having a little adventure?”
She tries her best not to look too excited, her Switch lowering to her lap as she gives her best impression of nonchalant.
“What kind of adventure?”
—◊—
“I still can’t believe you watched that last video at work,” I laugh.
It’s becoming a weird habit of ours—talking for a while after we Skype. He still watches me come, and honestly, I enjoy it just a little more when it’s him, and isn’t that silly?
“It was worth it,” he murmurs. “Although, my coworkers might disagree. They probably think I have stomach issues now.”
I can’t help but laugh again. I adjust the mask on my face, my fingers lingering there as my teeth worry at my lower lip.
“I’m trying to imagine it,” I answer quietly. “It’s so weird that I don’t know what you look like.”
“It is.” I hear him clear his throat. “But then again, I don’t know exactly what you look like either.”
“Kind of weird,” I chuckle nervously, my heart rate quickening.
“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “Weird.”
He doesn’t ask me to take off the mask, which is a good thing.
Because right now I can’t say that I wouldn’t do it for him.
—◊—
