When the doors slid open, Aiden managed a smile. It was only half-forced. He still loved his mother, despite his immense frustrations with her.
She actually gasped when she saw Oliver, breezing off the elevator in her usual garb of all black with a colorful scarf tied at her neck. She took a direct route to her grandson, her mouth softening to a tiny O. “Aiden, he looks just like you.” She held on to his hand and shook her head in disbelief, but not enough to muss her short, dark hair. “What an angel.” A tear rolled down her cheek, but then a steady stream started. Of the many reactions he’d anticipated from his mother, full-on crying was not one of them. She smiled through the tears, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Can I hold him?”
Aiden was stricken with conflicting emotions, ones that didn’t belong in one person’s head at the same time. He wanted to protect Oliver. But at the same time, there was a yearning—so deep he could feel it—for his mother to accept and love Oliver. He had to take this leap, however much she could end up hurting either of them. “Yes. Of course.”
He handed over Oliver, who seemed perplexed. She bounced him up and down as she plopped her handbag on the entry table.
“Come in, Mom. I want you to meet Sarah.”
Sarah was pouring herself a glass of water. “Mrs. Langford. It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve...” She paused and looked right at Aiden. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Please, call me Evelyn. And I wish I could say the same about you. My son has been remarkably quiet about everything.” She turned and shot Aiden a disappointed look, a wordless reprimand. Did she have any idea how hard he was working to keep up his hopes? Intentional or not, she expertly knocked them back down. “Not that I’m surprised. He keeps things to himself. Always.”
Eight
Stress radiated off Aiden like August heat off a tin roof—jaw tense, shoulders rigid. Was he always this away around his mother? He must be, because she didn’t seem to notice. She was too preoccupied with Oliver, sitting on the floor in the library, offering him toys from a bag Sarah had given her.
“He’s smart. I can tell,” she said to no one in particular.
Aiden stood sentry, arms crossed squarely at his chest. This was not a bonding moment for him. He was observing, like a hawk.
Sarah walked up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He flinched, then relaxed under her touch. She might have underestimated this burden, and her heart ached because of it. Whatever there was between him and his mother, it was not good. Sarah desperately wanted to know more. Even if it was painful, she wanted to know.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” she whispered to Aiden.
He looked over his shoulder, lowering his face closer to hers. A waft of his heavenly scent hit her nose—warm and masculine, like the sheets on his bed, just like his entire bedroom. “Now who’s the sweet one?” he muttered.
You are. When you want to be. “I’m sensing you could use a drink.”
“It’s only a little past four.”
“It’s five o’clock in Nova Scotia. I’ve heard it’s lovely there this time of year. Bourbon?”
“On the rocks.” He cracked a smile and his shoulders visibly relaxed. She fought the urge to dig her fingers into them, help him unwind while she committed the contours of his broad frame to memory.
“Cocktail, Evelyn?” Sarah asked.
She shook her head and started peekaboo with Oliver. “I’m too in love with my grandson for a drink. But I’ll take a diet soda.”
“Got it.” Sarah went to work, getting Aiden his drink first. He was in greater need. “Here you go.” Their fingers brushed when she gave him his glass, sending a tingly recognition through her.
“Thank you. For everything.” His voice was low and soft, just as luxurious as the bourbon in the glass. Why did the man she was supposed to stay away from have to be so undeniably sexy?
The elevator rang again.
“That’s odd,” Aiden said. “I don’t know who could be here.”
“I’ll get it.” Sarah hurried to the entryway and buzzed the intercom. “Hello?”
“It’s Liam Hanson for Mr. Langford. I’m one of the admins at Barkforth and Sloan.”
The paternity test. “I thought you were coming tomorrow morning.” Surely this was not the sort of commotion Aiden wanted while his mother was there.
“They asked me to come this afternoon since you need this done right away. They should’ve called you.”
“Come on up.”
Aiden joined her. “Great. With my mom here.” He must have overheard. He raked his hand through his hair, again showing her the strain she hated seeing on any face, especially on one as handsome as his.