“Do you have anything sweet?”
“I have a Magner’s Irish Hard Cider on tap.”
“I’ll take that.” She picked up a cardboard coaster and started spinning it absently between her fingers while he moved down the bar to pour her drink.
Aidan set the glass on a napkin in front of her. “So you mentioned when you called earlier that you spoke with your attorney. What did he have to say about our little situation?” he asked.
“He’s going ahead with a draft custody agreement for us to meet and redline. His assistant will also call you with a time and place to go for the paternity testing. The lab already has Knox’s profile from his first testing with Beau. Basically, we’ll start from there.”
“Okay, but I’ll need to know how much I’ll owe in monthly child support and things like that, too.”
The mention of child support brought Violet’s fidgeting to a standstill. “I didn’t tell my attorney to ask for child support.”
Aidan stopped and looked at her with his ginger brow furrowed in confusion. “Why not? I’m willing to do the right thing and help support my son.”
Violet felt her stomach tighten with anxiety. She hated talking about money, especially her own money. It was one thing to talk about the family wealth in abstract or the foundation, but her personal finances always seemed to open up a door to angst. People never looked at her the same way when they knew how much she was worth. She liked the way Aidan looked at her that night after Murphy’s closed. His blue eyes had reflected pure desire and nothing more. Even now, she could catch the light of appreciation there as he admired her appearance from across the room. She didn’t want that to change. But she couldn’t take his money just to end the awkward conversation.
“I don’t need it, Aidan,” she said at last. “With you trying to start the halfway house and keep the bar running, you can put that money to good use elsewhere. At the very least, save it for things to do when you and Knox are together.”
“I have to,” he insisted with a stern set of his square, stubbled jaw. “I’m his father. I don’t want people to say I didn’t step up when the time came.”
“And I’m telling you that I can’t take a dime from you. I mean it.” Violet crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. She doubted it made her appear more adamant, but she’d try it anyway. Male pride could be so frustrating sometimes. That was one thing about Beau that was easier to handle. He was happy to let her pay for things when she wanted to.
Maybe too happy in retrospect.
Aidan looked around the bar and held out his arms. “Listen, you’re well-off, Violet. I can tell by the apartment bigger than my bar and the nanny and everything else. But I—”
“I’m not just well-off,” she interrupted, feeling the frustration building in her neck and shoulders and pulsating a familiar pain down her arms. She took a sip of cider, hoping it would relax her and dull the pain.
Although she had a really nice apartment and most everything she needed or wanted, she tried to live a more modest lifestyle by Manhattan standards. Her parents’ collection of homes was so lavish she was embarrassed to take anyone to visit them. As a teenager in prep school, she’d never hosted a single sleepover. Not that her parents were ever home to oversee one. Her schoolmates didn’t need to see the gold-plated furniture and the marble statues of Greek gods in the foyer. It was an over-the-top display of wealth that made her uncomfortable.
“Aidan, I’m one of the wealthiest women in the country,” Violet said, finally spitting out the words she’d been holding in. “We’re talking billions. With a B. I’m sorry to be so blunt about it, but I need you to understand that I’m not just being nice when I say that I don’t need any of your money.”
* * *
“She’s a frickin’ billionaire?”
Aidan winced as one of his regulars, Stanley, said the B word a little louder than he would’ve liked. “Why don’t you yell it again, Stan? I don’t think the whole bar heard you the first time.”
“Sorry,” Stan said, taking a big swig of his dark brown pint of Guinness. “I thought you were bragging. I know I’d be happy to be involved with a sexy billionaire. I’d shout it from the rooftops.”
“You’d shout it from the rooftops if you were involved with any woman.”
Stan chuckled and took another drink. “Probably so. But what’s so wrong with a rich girl?”
“Nothing. And everything.” Aidan didn’t like to admit it aloud, but he didn’t really care for rich people. Give him blue collar...give him salt of the earth people who worked with their hands and were willing to give you the shirt off their backs... He’d rubbed elbows with all types and the working class were the kind of people he preferred to associate with in both his personal and private life.
There were never ulterior motives to their friendship. They weren’t out to make a buck off you or use your shoulders to climb higher up the social ladder. Most of them knew they were never going to be upper class, much less rich, and they were okay with that. Aidan had aimed high, trying to better his situation for his and his mother’s sake, and he’d done well. Working at one of Madison Avenue’s biggest and most prestigious advertising agencies had come with lots of cash and plenty of perks.
But he was happier here behind the bar at Murphy’s Pub. Aidan had had a taste of upper class and it was far more sour than he’d expected it to be. Here, if something tasted bad, he just changed out the keg and the problem was solved.
“This is about what happened with you and fancy pants Iris, isn’t it?”
Aidan winced at the mention of his ex-fiancée’s name. “I paid you fifty bucks to never say her name again.”
Stan rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “You said you would. Never did, as I recall. So I’ll say it again. That nasty breakup with Iris mus
t’ve made you bitter.”