Man. It hurt.
“I’m too tipsy to do it myself,” she growled. Despite her efforts to keep it out, vulnerability leaked into her voice. Aiden’s weakness was her trust in him; her showing who she really was. He gripped her elbows and helped her to her feet, stopping short of crushing her lips with his and admitting he was wrong a hundred ways from Sunday.
He steadied her elbows as she wiggled out of the dress with a perfunctory “No looking.” He obeyed, keeping his eyes focused out the bedroom window. But with the bedside lamp on, he couldn’t see out the window, only himself reflected in the pane, and Sadie’s thong panties as she stepped out of the dress. He shut his eyes and reminded his johnson to remain at ease.
“Aiden.”
“Yes.”
“I need you to get my pajamas for me.”
“Okay.”
“No peeking while I crawl into bed.”
This was the side of Sadie people didn’t see. Her modest side. Everyone assumed they knew her—with her litany of first dates and explosive personality, Sadie was mistaken as confident and outgoing. Which she was, both of those things. She was also modest, careful. Fragile. And despite the increasing pressure in his pants, Aiden vowed to honor her request.
“Okay,” he muttered.
“Promise,” she commanded, brushing against his arm as she turned. Something very soft grazed his skin and he tried to convince himself it wasn’t what he thought it was.
“Promise,” he said through clenched teeth.
When he heard the wisp of sheets he opened his eyes. Sadie wore the comforter over her breasts and pointed with one arm. “The big suitcase,” she said around a yawn.
The big suitcase also had a big lock. The key, he assumed, was in her purse. He approached The Purse, which was about the size of a small country, and stopped short. Going through a woman’s purse was a lot like sticking a hand in the garbage disposal. While he was pretty sure he’d be able to get what he needed out of it, there was the risk of losing a digit while rooting around in there.
He glanced back at Sadie, who had lain back and shut her eyes. Her breathing was already steady and deep. Making a snap decision, he walked to his room and dug a T-shirt out of his duffel bag. When he returned, he wondered if it was even worth it to wake her. But then he thought of her waking in only her panties—a thought that had him swallowing a lump of lust—and worried she might think something had happened tonight. He regarded the gray shirt in his hand. Not that she’d be thrilled about waking in one of his tees. Again.
Was that night on auto-repeat?
Ignoring the overwhelming sense of déjà vu, he stretched the neck and slipped the shirt over her sprayed hair, feeding first one arm into a sleeve followed by the other. Now the tricky part. Looking up at the ceiling, he palmed her back and pulled her toward him. But as he started to tug the shirt down, Sadie’s arms clamped around his neck, her breasts smashing against his cardboard dress shirt.
A sound emitted from his throat he was pretty sure was a growl.
“I loved you,” Sadie said, her eyes wide and earnest. “And you blew it.” That said, she tugged the shirt to her waist, flopped onto one side, and pulled the covers over her head.
Aiden’s shoulders slumped, heavy from the weight of her admission. She loved him. Or at least she used to. He’d had his suspicions but had never known. Would it have changed how he ended things between them? Would he have confessed the same?
Of course he would’ve.
And you blew it.
He had. Completely effing stepped in it.
And now it was too late. Sadie probably never would have told him what she just had if she hadn’t been marinating in champagne tonight. As much as he’d love to deny hearing her say it, there was part of him glad to know the truth. The masochistic part of him, apparently. He’d earned the pain fair and square, but Sadie…Sadie had come out the other side. She was okay now, or would be after a couple of Advil in the morning. Her journey with him in it had reached an end. Now he was a bystander and couldn’t allow himself to be anything more. Asking her to take another chance on him was wrong. Maybe more wrong than the way he’d ended things with her last year.
After several seconds, he finally stood from the edge of the bed, as heavy as if he’d strapped a pair of anvils onto his back. At the door, he hesitated over the switch, watching her take a few deep breaths. One night, a long, long time ago, he’d been right next to her, feeling as hopeful about their future as he felt devastated now.
If only time were reversible. If only he knew then what he knew now.