Page 24

Not bothering to suppress a yawn, I head into the kitchen. Coffeemaker is in place.Check. But the cabinets, outside of a red can of ground coffee, are practically empty.

The boys have got a box of pancake mix and a few half-eaten bags of chips rubber-banded together.

“They live like this?” I mutter to myself.

The fridge is the same except for a twelve-pack of beer and a dented plastic tub of something that has turned green with mold. I stare at the lone container before allowing the door to swing shut.

I’ll have to go food shopping if I want to eat.

With another yawn, I grab the coffee and a filter and load up the coffeemaker. A hunt through the freezer yields a bag of frozen waffles, and there’s a toaster above the microwave.

It’s a little past nine. Maybe I slept better than I thought.

There’s no movement down the hallway and only a light rustle of snoring.

The place is small enough to have altogether no privacy, the kitchen and dining and living rooms all one big open space.

“If it begins with coffee, it’s gonna be a good morning.” Aiden walks out of his bedroom, smiling. “You didn’t have to make it. I was going to get there eventually.” He strolls casually over.

“It’s no big deal,” I get out, forced to clear my throat. Score one for me, I didn’t flinch. “We all need it to start the day, right? Might as well makea pot.”

He doesn’t look much older than he did the last time I’d seen him, at the wedding. Which means he’s aged well. Both sides of his oak-brown hair are buzzed but the hair on the top was left long.

He’s the picture of everyone’s favorite quarterback. The smile emphasizes the strong cut of his chin, and those blue eyes are magnetic.

Enough to take every bit of attention away from the limp.

He stops in front of me and eyes me up and down, his strong arms on display underneath a white tank top. He looks strong enough to hold one of me on each shoulder. I feel cornered by his looming presence, and the nearness sends skitters through my veins.

“You remember me, right? Aiden.”

I swallow. “I know who you are.”

I adjust my glasses and catch my breath when he reaches around me to grab one of the mugs I set out on the counter. Our arms barely touch but my hair lifts.

“You don’t remember me the way I remember you.” He quirks a half smile and the statement forces me to meet his eyes.

I should say something, but everything in my head sounds either bratty or stupid. “What am I supposed to remember?” I finally ask.

He sighs, long and low. “Typical woman. Too worried about what kind of dress she’s got on to think about the eligible men at a wedding.”

I snort. “Eligible men? I was twelve the last time I saw you. Give me a break.”

“Ah, so it’s true, then. Youdon’tremember. I’m hurt, Gilli.”

“You sound sad about it.” I cock one eyebrow higher. “Was there another time?”

The way he holds my gaze, the way he’s watching mebrings a sliver of awareness to my chest. He’s standing way too close for comfort and I draw in a breath and step back.

Aiden grabs the coffee pot before it’s finished brewing and dumps half of the rich black brew into his cup. Without waiting for it to cool and uncaring about the drips burning on the hot plate, he takes a sip. Winces.

“Yeah, of course. When Soren and I came to move Lorie out of the trailer.”

I pull up short. “Wait. You helped move her up to RISD?” The memories are clicking into place. “The Rhode Island School of Design?”

The awareness has no business here. It’s not the time or the place—or the right guy.

“We tried, at least. Soren lost a bet with his father or something, and it roped us into an act of service.” Aiden straightens. In an even tone, he says, “You didn’t stay long. You were busy. I was carrying boxes out to the back of the U Haul. You made some kind of black comment about Soren’s shirt and then booked it out. Hardly a goodbye for anyone.”