***
“All right, goddamn it. I’m not waiting for his ass to get here any longer. I want some of my daughter’s cake.” My dad showed up about a half hour ago, looking mighty worn. I know he met with Aidan and Calla earlier today. He claims he hasn’t seen him since. That his mother went to stay with John and Cecily for her own protection, and that was all he would tell me. Now, he’s sitting here trying to butter me up with his comment about indulging in my cake.
“We need ice cream,” Grace pipes in.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any. I could go get some,” I say, knowing damn well I will not be leaving.
“We can go get some,” Anna says while observing Dilan.
“Sure. Let’s go.” He gives me a weary smile, and even though I feel like I want to pull my hair out of my head and I’ve killed everyone in this room at least twenty times, I’m panicking, freaking the hell out. And I want Aidan home.
“You need a drink, honey.” Mom hands me a glass of wine.
“Thanks.” I take a sip of the crisp sweet Riesling and let it flow through my system. I stare at the door Anna and Dilan just walked through. My mom’s bodyguard is still perched outside like a fucking tool. God, why me? I want to scream. Throw a pissy ass fit and ask everyone to leave.
“He’s fine, sweetheart. I promise.” Dad hovers over me.
“You don’t know that.” I swallow back my tears.
“I do know, Deidre. The man I saw today was anxious to get the hell out of that office and back to the two of you.” My dad’s tone seems very convincing, but I will not settle down until he walks through that door.
“I’m going to go cut the cake.” Even though I don’t want to cut the goddamn cake. I ease up out of my chair, snag my glass of wine, and lean up against the wall in the kitchen. My hands start to shake, leaving me no choice but to set my glass on the table. My chest feels impossibly tight. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths and letting them out. I have no idea how long I stand this way until my eyelids flutter open from the hot breath I feel against them, the warm body I feel pressed up against mine.
Those anger reflexes inside of me diminish with every breath of his I inhale. I’m still shaking, but somehow I manage to look deeply into big, blue eyes. They sparkle with mischief, while I’m sure mine are wet with the tears I feel streaming down my face.
“Baby. No. Why are you crying?” His voice is low and matter-of-factly. He knows why.
“I’ve been worried about you.” I may sound a little taut when I speak.
“I’m sorry. I know I told you I would text or call. I promise I have a very good reason.” He acquires my attention rather quickly. Although, the way he’s seeking me out with his gaze, I’d say he’s either done or bought me something again. He wears the same expression as he did last night when he gave me my sweet gift. Sheepish.
“What have you done, Aidan Hughes?”
“Not so fast, beautiful. Kiss me first.” I look intently at Aidan as he gazes back at me, burning holes into my already heated skin. A rush of heat explodes in my chest. His lips twitch when he leans forward slowly, teasingly.
Then his hands are tangled in my hair, his lips are on mine, and thank you, god, my man is home. We devour each other with our lips, tongue, and mouths, expressing our love without speaking. My hands twist roughly in his hair. He bites my lower lip and grinds his hips into mine. And I soften even more. My desire for him increases with every circle of his tongue. It’s maddening in a thunderously arousing way. This crazy love we have for one another works for us.
My heart is splayed wide open for this man, and no matter how worried I become, this one particular person who I have tumbled into the abyss of love with will always come home to our son and me. This is what I’m getting out of this passionate kiss from him. He’s letting me know we’re everything to him.
He pulls himself away from me way too quickly, leaving us both gasping for air. “Please tell me you saved some frosting?” he asks, which gets a laugh out of me. Moments like these are why I call our love crazy, but we fit. One minute we can be serious, the next playful, and I wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way.
“I did. It’s in the fridge. More than likely very hard right now.” His brows shoot up, while my eyes look down. Again, why is everyone still here? Christ, that is a gloriously looking hard-on straining through those jeans. Fuck me. I hate to have to waste it. As if he can read what’s running through my head, he swipes a finger down my cheek, cupping my jaw between his hands. “Just one look at you makes me hard, sweet-tart. Trust me, the minute the last person walks out the door, he’ll be back.” He smirks at me and shakes his head.