Window Shopping

How am I trembling and laughing at the same time?

I sound like a scared Chihuahua at the groomers.

“Are you almost here?”

“Crossing the main floor now. Hey, Seamus!” Aiden calls out, obviously to the custodian who is vacuuming, and relief hits when I hear that zippity doo dah voice in my ear and through the door. “You probably tried yelling, right? He’s got his headphones on.”

I nod, pressing my cheek to the cold wall, breathing. Breathing.

“Aunt Edna must have been a sweet lady,” I say. Am I trying to prompt him into telling me more about Aunt Edna? My soul must be leaving my body. “If she had so much influence on you, I mean.”

He chuckles, but the sound is tight. “Edna would tell you herself that she’s meaner than a snake. But she taught me different. She taught me what would work for me, not her. Two steps away, Stella.”

The door opens and Aiden appears in the doorway, his tall frame taking up every inch of it. And I can see he’s not as calm as his voice portrayed. There’s a shine of sweat at his hairline, his chest puffing up and down. And I don’t know what I’m thinking. Or if I’ve gone momentarily insane to have missed him? But I throw myself at this big, solid, reassuring man who tells the most ridiculous stories. I throw myself at him and he picks me up, cradling me against his huge chest like a baby.

“Okay, sweetheart.” As if he senses that I need to be anchored, he squeezes me tight with his left forearm, stroking his right one down the back of my hair. “You’re okay.”

Relief. It hits me even harder this time than it did when I finally walked out of Bedford Hills, free to leave. Free to go home. A home that didn’t really exist for me anymore, but still. I could walk and walk and no one would stop me. How can this feel even better? Maybe because if we were smack dab in the middle of a tornado right now, he’d shield me. I just know it somehow. And that assurance turns my limbs to jelly, melting me against him.

“I don’t know what happened,” I say in a gulp, digging my nose into the peppermint scent of his dress shirt lapel. “I just freaked.”

Slowly, he turns and walks us out of the window box. “You don’t get locked up somewhere for four years and leave without a few soul scrapes.”

“I know you’re not speaking from experience.” My heart rate is steadily coming down but now I’m shivering. “What would be the charge that sent you up the river? Telling too many dad jokes? Over-complimenting while intoxicated?”

“Hey, I took an extra sample of tandoori chicken at the supermarket once. Been looking over my shoulder for eight years since.” The vibration of his rumbling laugh makes me close my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder. When his steps turned muffled, I crack an eyelid and realize we’re crossing the main floor toward the elevator bank. Seamus is standing in between two jewelry cases with his mouth hanging open. “You never saw us, Seamus,” calls Aiden.

Seamus nods, gives a thumbs up and goes back to vacuuming.

A moment later, we’re about to step into the elevator when Aiden hesitates. “Are you going to be all right in here? It just occurred to me you took the stairs on the day of the interview and now…”

Have I unconsciously been avoiding enclosed spaces?

It’s not as if I was in a classic prison cell while locked up. There was a giant room of beds separated by partitions. I was never in a tight room with bars, like in a super max. The fear seems to stem from not being able to leave. Not having an exit. Lacking control. Right now, though, the thought of stepping into an elevator with Aiden doesn’t strike me as scary. “No, I’m fine as long as I’m with you.” Realizing what I said, I scramble to jog it back. “I mean, you know. You own the store. You probably have keys and codes and phone numbers if something goes wrong. You know?”

“Yeah,” he says warmly, near my ear. Still holding me close, he steps into the elevator and hits a button. We say nothing as the car begins to move. But his chest is still rising and falling. Only now, I’m noticing that every time his chest puffs up and down, my breasts rasp over the slopes of his pecs. Yeah. Pecs. He’s got them. Big ones.

Dammit.

I’m also becoming very, very aware that over the course of Aiden carrying me from the window to the elevator, my legs have crept up around his hips. When? I have no idea. But they’re there now, my very tips of my knees brushing the back of the elevator wall when he steps farther inside, his forearm snaking under my bottom to keep me held. I’m slightly too high on his body for anything private of ours to touch, but my neglected body is potently aware that I could slide down, just a little, and feel him between my thighs.