He brought a hand to his chest. “Ouch, Em.”
“Don’t start with me, Aidan. You look like hell, and you need more nourishment than alcohol all the time.”
He plopped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“What?”
“That I look like such hell, yet you look so fucking beautiful.” A pained sound came from deep in the back of his throat as he eyed her green maternity top. “And you’re wearing green just like the first night I ever saw you.” One of his hands reached out to brush against hers. “God, you were and still are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She blew out a frustrated puff of air. “I don’t want or need any of your pick-up lines or compliments, thank you very much!”
He shot her a wounded look. “Can’t I tell the mother of my child how beautiful she looks? How pregnancy has made her blossom into an even more breathtakingly sexy woman.”
Emma’s heart stilled and then restarted at both his words and the passion in which he delivered them. The gleam in his eyes elicited a response between her thighs as well. She wanted to smack her traitorous body as well as the pregnancy hormones pumping through her.
“What I need more than compliments is for you to shape up, Aidan,” she said, softly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
The waitress, armed with a basket of bread, hovered in front of the table. “Erm, here you go.” She practically threw it at them before sprinting away.
Ignoring his question, Emma cut a piece of bread. After slathering it with enough butter to raise anyone’s cholesterol level, she held it out for Aidan. He didn’t protest. Instead, he took the slice from her, letting his fingers linger on hers longer than they should. After he swallowed the bread almost whole, she grinned triumphantly at him. “I knew you were hungry,” she noted, as she fixed him another piece.
“Hungry for your company,” he replied, in an agonized voice.
Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “Please don’t.”
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to stare into his blazing baby blues. “It’s the truth dammit! You don’t know the hell I’ve been through because you wouldn’t talk to me! You wouldn’t let me apologize or talk this through. You fucking cut me off.” He shuddered. “I’ve been dead inside the last three weeks. But now that I’m with you…”
“Let me guess. Now that you’re back in my presence, you’re like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon?” she snapped sarcastically.
“Keep talking that way to me, and I’ll quit eating.”
She gritted her teeth. “I’m glad to see you’re still impossible.”
He winked at her as he finished off his third piece of bread. She twisted her napkin furiously in her lap. “You act like you’re the only one who’s been suffering.”
Aidan’s face perked up. “You mean, you’ve missed me?” he asked, his voice vibrating with emotion.
“Of course I have! How could you even ask such a thing?”
His shoulders sagged. “I just figured when you wouldn’t talk to me that your hate won out over anything else you felt for me.”
“My hatred for you does fuel a lot of my emotions.”
“Touche,” he replied, tipping his beer up.
“Somehow you forget that what should have been one of the happiest days of my life was trampled and spat upon by the man I loved and the father of my child!”
Torment pulsed in Aidan’s eyes as he slowly removed the bottle from his lips. “Jesus Em,” he muttered.
His pained expression overwhelmed her, and her chest rose and fell in harsh pants. Finally she found her voice again. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Trust me, I may look more put together than you, but I’m not. I’m just as much a wreck on the inside. I can’t shut down this time like when I lost Travis or my mom. I have Noah to think about.” A bitter laugh rumbled from her chest. “So you may think the last three weeks have been hell on you, but you can rest assured they have been for me just as much if not more!” Snatching her napkin from her lap, she dabbed the hot tears that pricked the corners of her eyes.
Aidan’s chin trembled. “I swear to God and all that’s holy I wish I could take it back,” he whispered.
He reached out for her hand, but Jenny appeared with their salads. Emma’s emotions suddenly switched gears, and she felt terrible that their outward animosity had scared the other waitress off. For a few minutes, they didn’t speak. It seemed too much had transpired between them to say anything else. By the time Emma had daintily cut her lettuce, drizzled on her dressing, and taken a bite, Aidan had scarfed down his entire salad.