The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Page 32


“I’m not,” I practically grunted out.

His impassive face said what words didn’t. Liar.

I lost it. I was hungry, grumpy, and irritated. That was the absolute truth. From the way a vein in my forehead pulsed, I was still holding a not-so-insignificant amount of residual anger toward him too. “Okay. Fine. Yes, I’m still a little pissed at you. You let Trevor of all people talk about me behind my back.” I blinked. “Trevor.” By that point, my blood didn’t know whether to rush to my face or away from it. “Trevor would sell his own kid for a price. Maybe we’re not friends, but you have to have known I cared about you a lot more than fucking Trevor.”

Just saying his name aloud made me angry, and I had to tell myself to reel it in.

One, two, three, four, five.

I bit the inside of my cheek and blinked at him. “You’ve never said a single freaking ‘sorry’ to me ever. Do you understand how rude that is? You never apologize for anything, anything. After everything I did for you, everything I’ve ever done for you, things that went above being just your employee, and you just… I would never, ever let anyone talk shit about you,” I said, making sure his gaze met mine when I said it so he could understand, or at least see, that I wasn’t just being an asshole to be an asshole.

“On top of that, you were acting like a major prick before I quit,” I accused him, feeling that familiar burn of disappointment scorch my chest. “Why would I want to do anything for you? There’s no loyalty between us. We aren’t friends.” I shrugged. “You might not know anything about me, but I know almost everything there is to know about you, and that means nothing now. I’m done. I respected you. I admired you, and you just… didn’t care. I don’t know how you can expect me to brush all that off as nothing.”

Honestly, I was surprised I’d lost it, and I might have been even more shocked that I wasn’t panting at the end of my spiel.

The vein in my head was pulsing. My hands fisted, and I felt angrier than ever in the past. Yet, when I really focused in on the hoodie-wearing man standing five feet away in the hallway of my apartment, I couldn’t help but pause.

The cords in his neck pulled taut. The hard slashes of his cheekbones seemed more prominent than ever. But it was the emotion in the shape of his mouth that I had never seen before. “You’re right.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t expect him to sort of apologize—a small part of me, did. But…

What?

“I shouldn’t have let him say that.”

“No shit.”

He ignored my comment. “I should have treated you better.”

Was I supposed to disagree?

As if sensing how much his words were failing, Aiden’s shoulders pulled back in resolution. “I’m sorry.”

My hands opened and closed at my sides. I wasn’t sure what to say, even as I tried to steady the angry beat of my heart.

“You were a great assistant,” Aiden added.

I still kept on eyeing him. Of course I had been a good one, but I was also the only assistant he’d ever had so…

With a hand to his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbed. I’d swear those impressive shoulders slumped forward. “You’ve always been loyal to me, and I didn’t appreciate it until you were gone.”

Neither one of us said a word for a few extended moments. Maybe he was waiting for me to rail him again, and maybe I was waiting for him to ask me to do something that I didn’t want to do. Who knew? But it must have been long enough for Aiden to finally clear his throat.

“Vanessa, I’m sorry for everything.”

I could believe he was slightly sorry, but a bigger part of my conscience believed he wouldn’t be apologizing if he didn’t wanted something from me. I couldn’t help but feel skeptical, and I was positive that emotion was written all over my face.

But Aiden wasn’t an idiot or anywhere close to it, and he kept going. “I’ve been angry over other things that have nothing to do with you. I haven’t tried to be nice, that’s true, but I’ve never gone out of my way or wanted to be mean to you either.”

I snorted, the scene at the gym, and at the radio station at the front of my brain.

He must have known exactly what I was thinking about because he shook his head, frustrated or resigned, I didn’t know or care. “I’m sorry I took that out on you. Apologizing doesn’t change anything, but I mean it. I’m sorry.”

Did I want to ask what other things he was angry with? Of course. Of course I did. But I knew if I asked him to elaborate it would seem like a sign he was on the road to maybe, possibly winning me over.

He wasn’t.

So I kept my mouth shut. There was a lot of things I would be willing to forgive, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized he’d let me down when I didn’t have high hopes for him to begin with. Aiden became just another person who didn’t live up to the expectations I had. What kind of crap was that? Plus, the stresses surrounding him being an asshole for a short period of time didn’t explain the rest of the months and years he’d never given me the time of day.

Aiden kept watching me with those coffee-colored eyes, watching, watching, watching. “I’ve been incredibly stressed lately,” he said, his words like bait.

All this stuff I had already known.

He licked his top lip and tilted his head down before letting out a long, low exhale. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Tags: Mariana Zapata Romance
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