Page 27

Twenty-Seven

Aiden

I’m not going to lie—I’m tempted to go to Luna’s place instead of mine.

But it’s the middle of the night and she worked today and…

Despite the marriage license we filed all of a week ago, we’re new.

My mouth turns up.

What does the universe consider marriage in Luna’s and my case? Date three? Cupcakes in the middle of the night was date one. Meeting—or reconnecting—with my family over pastries was date two. Watching me play, date four. And…then Elvis telling her to kiss her hunka, hunka burning love.

I grin.

So, it’s date four.

Tomorrow, I’ll see about securing a fifth.

Grinning, I park, grab my shit from the back, and start for the elevators, taking one up to my floor. I step off into the hall, unlock the door to my condo?—

And freeze.

“Hey, handsome,” I hear.

It’s funny, I realize as I look over and see her in the kitchen, not having expected her to use the code I gave her to get inside, certainly not expecting to see her sitting there with two mugs on the counter in front of her, looking adorably sexy in her pajamas.

Definitely not expecting her to remember what I’d said all those years ago.

Almost a throwaway, something tossed into the air, half-joking. Back then I didn’t realize it actually does matter. Even five minutes ago, I would have said this wasn’t important.

Until I walked into my condo in the middle of the night, exhaustion creeping in, and…

Found she’s done this for me.

“Come in,” she says softly, moving my way.

She tugs me out of the open doorway, closing and locking it up behind me.

Then she’s taking my hand, drawing me into the kitchen.

“It’s silly,” she says as she pushes me down gently onto a stool.

“This week has been…” Her mouth curves into a half-smile.

“More than a little crazy and I…I don’t know how to quantify us or what we’re doing?—”

“We’re just us, Luns,” I say. “This doesn’t need quantifying aside from that.”

Her eyes come to mine. “Maybe not.” She turns to the opposite counter then rotates back to face me, a mug in each of her hands. “But I need it—or at least, I need to feel like I’m not just clinging to your shirttails and making your life complicated.”

My heart squeezes. “ Luns.”

“Because you knew my family then, honey?—”

Another pulse through my heart. Because it feels fucking great when she calls me honey.

Her next words don’t feel remotely as good, though.

“I talked to my attorney today,” she says.

“They’re getting the ball rolling. Which means that soon enough John and my dad are going to know about the marriage—and that means they’re going to know about you .

” She sets the mugs on the counter in front of me and I take advantage of her hands being free to lace my fingers through hers.

“I can handle your dad and brother, sweetheart,” I say quietly.

Her expression tells me that she’s not so confident about that, but before I can reassure her further, she says, “But I don’t want to talk about them tonight.”

Me neither.

I don’t want to talk at all.

I want to?—

“I’m struggling,” she says and my focus snaps away from my hardening dick, arrowing back to her, worry knotting my insides. “Because it feels like you’re doing a lot for me and I’m doing nothing but dropping into your life, creating chaos, and dragging you into my mess.”

I open my mouth, but she’s still talking.

“You married me, for God’s sake!” She pushes out a sharp breath. “And you’re giving up your freedom to help me after I broke up with you and we didn’t talk for years, and I don’t know what kind of person does that?—”

I start to speak, but her words keep coming.

“Except that it’s you ,” she says, tone softening, eyes gentling, fingers tightening around mine.

“It’s the Aiden I knew then and the Aiden you are now who I’m only just learning, and I just figured…

” Her throat works, fingers tightening further.

“While I don’t know everything about the man you are today, I do know my Aiden, and so—” She waves her free hand to the mugs.

“Hot chocolate.” A beat. “And someone here to drink it with you.”

My heart is suddenly pounding. “ Luns.”

Her voice is gentle. “You said that when your practices ran late and you got home after your siblings were asleep, your mom would wait up for you with hot chocolate.”

My pulse speeds.

“She would sit with you and catch up on your day—what went on at school or at the rink—or she’d help you with your homework if you didn’t get it all done before then.

” Luna nudges a mug in my direction. “Or sometimes, she would just sit here and let you talk about practice or off-ice being hard or help you work through whatever your coach yelled at you about on the ice.” A soft smile.

“And she’d always do it with hot cocoa.”

Pulse still speeding, I fill in the rest. “She said hot chocolate took the edge of the day off.” My lips twitch. “Now as an adult, I’m half-convinced she drugged it with melatonin so I’d finally chill out and go to sleep.”

Luna giggles. “Well, I didn’t think about the drugging part—though I do have some melatonin in my purse.

” A wink that has me chuckling. “And I have my own special touch too.” She slips her hand from mine, goes to the fridge, then pulls out a can of whipped cream, squirting an almost obscene amount on both of our hot cocoas.

And just when I think she’s done, she squirts some more, making us both laugh.

“And for the pièce de résistance…” She lifts a container of sprinkles, undoes the cap, and liberally douses both of our hot cocoas with the rainbow-colored candies.

“Now drink up,” she orders, screwing on the cap and oh so gently tracing her finger beneath my healing cut, as though just her touch can mend the injury.

And maybe she does have magical healing powers because the nagging ache in my cheek disappears—or maybe it just relocates elsewhere.

Somewhere south . “Then,” she murmurs. “I want you to tell me all about how much of a pain in the ass Smitty was on the way home.”

Fuck.

It hits me like a ton of bricks then.

Why I didn’t freak out about her showing up, why I didn’t even question stepping in and marrying her.

Because we might have spent a decade apart.

But I never stopped loving Luna.

And that doesn’t change as we finish our hot cocoa, as I loop my arm around her waist and taste the chocolate treat on her tongue.

As I lift her up and carry her to the bedroom.

Where I love her another way until we’re both too exhausted to move.