The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Page 73


The words were barely out of his mouth when a white head of hair peeked out from the living room. Nearly as tall as Aiden and way more fit than any man who should have been considered elderly could be, Leslie Prescott flashed those perfect white veneers at me. “Hello, Vanessa.”

A sharp pain thudded right between my eyebrows unexpectedly. I set my suitcase down in place and smiled at the man I’d met in the past. We’d spent months together in Colorado on two separate occasions, and he’d visited Aiden the rest of the times. I liked him; I really did like him, but I was in a shitty mood, and it wasn’t fair to take it out on him.

“Hi, Leslie,” I pretty much muttered as I jogged down the steps and held out my hand.

He shook it, flashing me an open, easy smile. “Congratulations,” he said, shaking my hand. “I heard the big news.” Leslie’s other hand came forth to clasp mine between both of his, his smile growing bigger by the second. If he thought it was strange that I didn’t give Aiden a hug or a kiss when I got home, it wasn’t evident on his features. “I’m a bit hurt I wasn’t invited, but I understand.”

“Oh, thanks.” I gave him a tired smile, pointedly ignoring the big body standing in my peripheral vision, watching on.

“I couldn’t be happier for you two. I was disappointed you were out of town this weekend, but I’m sure we’ll have more time to see each other in the future. ”

I forced myself to keep my smile on my face. Aiden and I had nearly five years left together, I was positive I’d see Leslie again at some point. “I’m sure we will.”

Leslie beamed. “We finished watching some footage, so I’ll get out of your hair to give you both some alone time tonight, eh?”

The tender, amused look that came over Aiden’s face more than slightly irritated me. “Eh.” Aye.

Then the fact that his Canadian had snuck up on him—when it only came up in the times he was really comfortable—made my little-girl immaturity that much worse.

“I’ll let you two to it. I have some work I need to catch up on.” I focused on Leslie as I talked.

The older man nodded. “Sure, sure. I understand. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a pit stop before I go.” He smiled again, easing the tension in me just slightly.

He hadn’t done anything wrong, and I was being an asshole. “You’ll be by tomorrow?”

“Eh. My flight leaves the day after. I have to get back home.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Drive safe.”

Leslie agreed and then made his way toward the half bath around the corner. That was my cue to get the heck out of there. Grabbing my bag with my good hand, I managed to make it halfway up the staircase before I heard, “You all right?”

I didn’t bother stopping. I kept going up. “I’m fine.”

“Vanessa.” His voice was low, careful. “Look at me.”

One hundred and eighty percent ready to be in my room, I stopped and turned around, raising my eyebrows at the figure standing at the bottom of the staircase with one palm on the handrail.

He had that dark gaze narrowed on me. “When you say you’re fine, I know you’re not.”

“Hmm,” was the only thing I could manage to get out without saying something really bitchy. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal he hadn’t gone with me; I’d told myself that at least a dozen times over the weekend. I also told myself I understood that he’d stayed to see someone he cared about, but it didn’t help, and it didn’t work.

My damn pride couldn’t handle being stood up and let down by not just him but by everyone this weekend.

“That’s what I thought,” Aiden stated as he tipped his chin up at me almost defiantly.

I squeezed my fingers around the handrail, envisioning it was his neck I was wringing. “Yeah, I guess so,” I admitted with a sniff. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to bed.”

I barely managed to turn around when Aiden’s raspy low voice spoke up. “I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it. I want to talk about it,” he said in that authoritative, demanding voice that scratched at my nerves. It wasn’t a loud voice by any measure, but it didn’t need to be.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head as he continued his bullshit explanation, “Leslie called, said he was in San Antonio and asked if he could drop by for a few days. Coach wanted to go through some more footage before I left, and I lost track of time.” And he kept going. “I figured you of all people would understand. I don’t get what the big deal is.”

For one moment, I thought about picking up my suitcase and throwing it at him. Immature, sure. Unnecessary, yes. But it would have made me feel better. Instead, I counted to seven, and while looking at the stairs, I said to him, “I do understand, Aiden. I get it. Your job is the most important thing in your life and I’m fully aware of how much Leslie means to you. I know that, and I’ve always known that.”

“Yet you’re still mad.”

There wasn’t a point in even lying, was there? Setting my luggage on the stair ahead of me, I turned back around to face that dark head of hair and tanned face I’d seen more of when I worked for him than I did now that I lived with him. “I’m not mad, Aiden. I’m just… look, I’m in a terrible mood. Maybe now isn’t the time to talk, all right?”

Tags: Mariana Zapata Romance
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