Page 65

AIDEN

I don’t know what to do. She was mad at me, and now she’s crying as we pull up to Crownhaven.

I help her out of the car and settle my jacket around her shoulders, which makes the tears fall faster.

I tip her head up with my hands and rub my thumbs over her cheeks.

Her eyes are wet and her lips tremble, and when I wipe at her tears, it makes her choke a sob.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps out. “I’m sorry—I tried.”

I wrap her in my arms, my chest tight. “Tell me what’s wrong, Em. Please.”

She just shakes her head and cries harder, and a pit opens inside me. I don’t know how to fix this. I’m not skilled with words.

I’ve never made a woman happy, and I don’t know the first fucking thing about healing her.

Wait, that’s not true.

I know everything about her. The way she laughs in the morning, a bit rough from sleep, but energetic, even at dawn.

The sparkle in her eye when she challenges me with a game.

The way she can’t sit still when she gets a crossword answer right.

She loves books, her dog, and playing games with me.

Sweatshirts on the beach and tea in the morning, never coffee, and shoes that look like works of art and heartfelt statements about love and movies that make her feel that pit in her stomach.

I can fix this.

I bend down and scoop her into my arms, even though she protests. “None of that,” I tell her as I turn and stride over the paving stones. Dusty is waiting by the door, and he whines softly when I push open the door.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “She’s okay.”

I’m not sure if she is, though . I set her gently on the couch before I run upstairs to grab the bag I packed earlier. I thought today might be hard for her. Going on the boat heals me, so maybe it will heal her.

When I get back, she’s exactly where I left her, tears drying on her face, her eyes red and puffy, her lips swollen.

My heart lurches at the sight. Emory is a one-woman force of nature. Always in motion, always witty, a little bit mean. Sharp and sour and so fucking sweet when she wants to be. And now she looks…devastated.

“Up you go.”

She tips her face up to mine, and I wipe at the tears on her cheeks. “I’m going to take you on the boat tonight. But first, I have something to show you. A secret.”

Her eyes light with curiosity. I try not to let the relief show on my face. I grab her hand and tug her through the hallway and into the library.

“Aiden, I’ve seen—oh.”

I tilt the painting to the side and pull the handle behind it. “You haven’t seen this,” I tell her as the door in the wall swings open and a room appears on the other side.

I was waiting for the perfect time to show her this secret; now might not be perfect, but I’m desperate.

She turns slowly in a circle once we’re inside.

The space is hexagonal, and it’s been built through both floors, so the ceiling is twenty feet overhead.

The shelves go to the ceiling and each is crammed with books.

There’s a fireplace to mirror the one on the other side and a small window overlooking the garden.

The couches in here are worn velvet with deep cushions that are perfect for reading.

“You—” She gapes. “You have a secret library?”

“I have a secret library.” I can’t help the smile that curls my lips. “This is my favorite room in the house.”

“I think it’s mine too,” she whispers.

Good. This is good. She’s not crying anymore.

She wanders closer to a shelf. “What are these?” Her eyes go upward.

Oh shit. I forgot about these books. “Romance novels.” I shove my hands into my pockets. I’ve been desperate to know her, and this is the result.

“Aiden.” She trails her fingers over the spines. “How many do you have?”

“Eleven hundred and twelve,” I say softly.

“What?” She whirls. “So many?” Her eyes scan the shelves before they narrow. “I know these books.”

“Of course you do.” I give her a half smile. “Five hundred and three on your read list and six hundred and nine on your to-be-read.”

Her eyes flick to mine, her nostrils flaring. She looks like she’s going to cry again. I made it weird. Fuck. Whit or Tristan wouldn’t do this. They’d buy a woman lingerie or flowers, not twelve kinds of tea and every book she’s ever read.

I look like a fucking stalker.

“The five-star books are over there,” I say casually. It took me ten hours to do all of this. I point to the shelves above the fireplace. “That’s where I started reading.”

She looks stunned. I tug on my hair. Telling her I’ve read all of her favorites is probably a bad idea.

I love her, but I have no idea how she feels, and now I’m terrified that I’ve rushed this.

That she doesn’t feel the same way. If I push her, she’ll run.

I know she will. Her walls will go right back up, higher and stronger than before, and I’ll never breach them.

“You can come here,” I say quickly. “Whenever you want. Even, uh, after.” God, after.

I’ll take any tie to her I can get, in hopes that if I have enough of them, she can’t float too far away.

“Or you can take the books. Whatever you want. I just wanted to know you, Em. That’s all.

I wanted to—” I pause. Fuck it. “I wanted to see inside your heart, because you wouldn’t let me in.

I figured this was the next best thing.”

Her lip wobbles, and she bursts into tears again. I take two swift steps forward, but she holds up her hands, and I halt.

“Stop being nice to me,” she whispers, pressing her palms to her face.

“What?”

“Stop being nice to me, Aiden,” she says more strongly. When her hands drop, she looks mad.

“Are you angry at me?” I laugh from the shock of it.

“I was supposed to hate you,” she says miserably.

“And then you had to go and make my favorite food and beat up my ex and befriend my dog and buy all of these books for me and do yardwork for my moms and figure out my secrets and now—” She lets out a shaky sob.

“Hating you would be so much easier than this.”

I feel like I’m flying. Careful . I could lose her.

“Than what, sweetheart?”

“Than liking you,” she bursts out. “You’re part of me. And when I leave, that part has to stay here. But it feels like that part might be essential. Like without that part, I might not be able to live anymore.” She plants her hands on my chest like she wants to shove me away.

My hands circle her wrists. “It doesn’t have to—”

“It does,” she says vehemently. “It does because I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

“What are you talking about?” I scan her face, but I don’t see the answers there.

Suddenly, I’m terrified.

“I don’t fit into your world, Aiden. The video was posted again today. The comments are—” She swallows. “They’re horrible.” Her voice is a mere whisper now. “I will never be good enough for—them.”

There’s a hitch in her voice before the word them that makes me think she meant to say you. My pulse stutters. I have to kill this right now. If she walks away from this conversation believing this, I’ll never get her back.

“I know, Em.”

She stills. “You saw?”

“Of course I saw. It’s why I came to get you tonight. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“I hate that you saw,” she says miserably. “You saw how everyone sees me.” She shuts her eyes. “I thought you were the one person who hadn’t seen.”

“Their opinion doesn’t matter to me. A video doesn’t matter to me. I see who you are, Emory.” I cup her face, and her chin wobbles. “You’re a good person. Better than you ever let anyone see.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she bursts out, pulling back from me. “I’ll never fit in with them. Your grandfather will never accept me. He brought me the divorce papers today. They’re on the table.”

I reel back. “He what?” I’m going to kill him for approaching her.

She points to the library. “I wanted to burn them. I was so mad at him.” Her breath hitches at the memory of her anger and I want to smile. I can imagine her being so mad at him. She frowns. “But he’s right. I know he’s right. Your world will never accept me.”

My breath tangles. I hate that she sees herself through their eyes.

I hate that anyone has made her feel like less.

I hate that I was one of the people to make her feel that way once.

“I’ll make them,” I say, my voice raw. I mean it.

Emory is so much more than what anyone suspects, and she doesn’t let people see it, and it seems like a fucking shame.

This brilliant, beautiful, generous woman who only pretends to be an evil queen when, really, she’s so much more.

“Stop,” she says, her voice shaking. “Stop trying to make me fit into your world. Our relationship has existed in a bubble. But when the real world comes rushing back in, nothing will have changed.” She takes an unsteady breath.

“Guys like you don’t marry girls like me.

” She presses her palms to her eyes, her breath shuddering out.

“That’s not true.” Anger rides me, hot and dizzying in its swiftness. “Who told you that? Who made you believe that?”

Her shoulders slump. “It’s true, Aiden.” She looks away. “Remember Harrison?”

I still. I don’t know where this is going, but I know it can’t be good.

“Yes,” I say carefully, when what I want to say is I don’t care what happened with him. The past doesn’t matter. Only the future. One with her in it.

She’s blinking back her emotions as she stares miserably at me.

I want to keep her, but now I’m scared I might not have a chance.