The Proposition(29)
Aidan opened his mouth, but Emma kept barreling on, her voice raising an octave. “Or what if I just have this huge mental block that becomes a physical one where I can’t conceive? What if I wasted all my fertile years and now I’m just going to be barren and alone for the rest of my life?”
She broke down again, her chest heaving from the hard sobs that racked her. Aidan stood rooted to the floor, silently debating about turning on his heels and running out the door. What the hell was he supposed to do with her like this? Reluctantly, he sank down beside her on the couch. Without him even offering, Emma threw herself at him. Her tear-soaked cheeks pressed into his neck while her body trembled against him. He momentarily froze, and she might as well been comforted by a marble statue.
He cleared his throat and tried to get his bearings. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” he said, patting her back. That seemed to be the encouragement Emma needed because she then tightened her arms around his neck. Since he didn’t know what in the hell else to do, he just let her cry.
An eternity seemed to pass before she had worn herself out. Her breath came in frustrated pants, and her body shuddered. “Are you okay now?” he asked hesitantly.
Emma jerked away at the sound of his voice. Suddenly, a mortified expression flashed across her face. “Oh God, I’m so, so sorry! I can’t believe I came up here and freaked out on you!”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Shit! When I saw…when I knew I wasn’t pregnant, all I could think of was getting to you. I even bypassed Casey’s office.” She shuddered. “God, I’m so embarrassed you had to see me acting like such a psycho!” she moaned, burying her head in her hands.
Trying to lighten the mood, Aidan said, “You know, you’re kinda giving me a complex here.”
Emma raised her head. “What?”
“I think deep down you’re most upset about the prospect of having to have sex with me again.”
She giggled. “No, that’s not it at all.” Nudging him playfully, she asked, “Don’t tell me you are actually underestimating yourself in the bedroom department?”
He grinned. “Not exactly.”
“I didn’t think so.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “No, Aidan, sex with you has been the biggest surprise of all in my crazy scheme.”
“A surprise? You’re sure not one for stroking the male ego, are you?”
“Stop fishing for compliments, Mr. Fitzgerald.” Emma cupped his face with her hands, trailing her thumb along the stubble on his cheek. “Besides, I thought I did a pretty good job of stroking you the last time we were together.” When his eyes widened, she laughed. “And in seven to ten days when I’m fertile again, I look forward to finding myself back in the bed of such a sex god as yourself—as long as you’re willing.”
“Oh, I’ll be willing.” He took one of her hands and kissed her fingers. “I could be willing now.”
She shook her head. “Seven to ten days.”
He groaned. “You love to torture me, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you then.” Emma gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. “I really do want to thank you though. My freak-out today…it wasn’t just about not being pregnant.”
“It wasn’t?” he asked, warily.
Drawing in a ragged breath, she said, “Today is the two year anniversary of my mom passing away. Days like these are always hard, but then realizing I wasn’t pregnant…it was kind of a double blow.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I lost my mom five years ago. Her birthday, Mother’s Day, the day she died—they’re a bitch.”
Emma stared in awe at him, and Aidan felt surprised at himself as well. He had never imagined him sharing something so personal, but there was something about Emma that made him want to open up—to share things with her he usually wouldn’t dare. “Were you close to her?” she asked softly.
Aidan shifted uncomfortably as a reel of loving memories played like a movie in his mind. “Yeah, I was. Well, I’m still close to my dad. But my mom….” A small smile curved on his lips. “She was thirty-eight when I was born. I was the long awaited son to carry on the family name, and the late-in-life baby.”
“I bet she spoiled you rotten,” Emma mused.
“She did. And my four sisters.” He shook his head. “Jesus, it’s a wonder I’m not gay growing up around all that estrogen.”
Emma laughed. “No, instead you became a manwhore.”