Hard to Handle (18 page)

A
iden adjusted the collar of his shirt. He’d made reservations at Triangle after his purchase and had run home to change into a blue button-down shirt and black pants. He hoped to God not to make an ass out of himself in a fancy-pants restaurant, he thought, sweeping a hand through his hair. But he couldn’t very well propose to Sadie in a steak house.

Though they did make love in a tree house…so maybe it was a safe assumption Sadie wasn’t into the five-star scene, either. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so riddled with doubt over the right way to ask her. Then again, yes, he did. Sadie spooked as easily as a wild mare. He didn’t want to blow his chance at spending the rest of his life with her because she didn’t like crème brûlée.

She opened her apartment door and Aiden’s fears evaporated. Seeing her there, dressed in a smart black skirt and pale pink top, her heels as high and impractical as ever, reminded him he had nothing to worry about. He
knew
her. Knew what she wanted, what she needed, before she even knew it herself.

“Change of plans,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He clasped on to the ring he’d purchased tonight. It wasn’t hard to pick out at all. The moment he saw it, it practically shouted
Sadie
. “We’ll take your car. You’re dressed perfectly for where we’re going.”

It was then he really looked at her face. The wide, sorrowful eyes, her full lips drawn into a pout. He held out a hand to touch her and she stepped out of his reach. The threshold of her apartment seemed to be a barrier he wasn’t supposed to cross.

“Axle says hi,” he said, his voice thin.

She crossed one arm over her middle and clasped on to her elbow, bracing herself—for what, he had no idea.

Fear and anger mixed in his throat, making his next words a demand rather than a question. “Sadie, what’s going on?”

She shook her head, dropped her arm, and squeezed her cell phone between both hands. “I thought I could do this.”

His vision blurred and he grasped the doorway for support.

“I mean, I don’t think we need to stop seeing each other,” she continued. “Just…you know. Maybe a little less…”

Faint. He was going to fucking faint.

“I appreciate you offering to take me to dinner, Aiden, but—”

“You
appreciate
it?” he asked, incredulous. “What am I, your coworker?”

She frowned, rolling her shoulders back. “No, of course not. I just think you and I went from zero to a hundred and skipped all the numbers in between. I need a—a break. From you. For a night or two,” she was quick to clarify.

Like that was supposed to make him feel better. “A break,” he repeated, his chest constricting.

How many times had he done this with Harmony? The start, the stall, the start, the stall. She’d ease off, come back, and he’d accommodated her each and every time. Marriage took work. Marriage took trying. And he got that, he did.

But just how much of the “trying” was supposed to come from him?

“I don’t want to stop seeing you,” Sadie continued, hell-bent on making her point. “If we could…slow down…”

“Slow down.” He was numb. From the hand that clutched the ring in his pocket to the legs somehow holding him up. “How is that even possible?”

“We don’t have to stop having sex,” she added as a caveat.

Okay, he wasn’t going to faint; he was going to puke. “You think that’s what I want? To have sex with you a couple times a week?”

She nodded, clutching her phone, and looking so hopeful it made Aiden’s stomach toss. “I want that. Don’t you?”

He bit the inside of his lip and leaned against her doorway frowning down at the welcome mat.

Welcome, my ass.

“No, Sadie,” he said, lifting his head to meet her eye. “I don’t. I want more, not less. I want every day, not every other. I want marriage, not dating. I want it all. I want you. In every way.”

She blanched. She looked as sick as he’d felt when she’d told him she wanted to back off. Only he had suggested the opposite. And her reaction was telling.

A smile—the same fake smile she’d given to Garrett at the wedding reception a few months ago—curved her mouth but failed to reach her eyes. “Aiden, we’ll get there—we’ll get—”

“I love you.” Where was her smile now? Sure as hell not on her face.

She blinked at him.

“I said I love you, Sadie.”

“I know.”

He laughed, but the sound was hollow. Empty. “And you don’t love me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He pushed off the doorway, the ring in his pocket a leaden weight dragging down his soul. “You didn’t have to.”

He stalked to Sheila as the rain started. And when he climbed on his bike, he felt the same kind of echoing anger he had the night he’d wrecked on I-75.

Like that night a few years back, Aiden gave himself to the road, and the piercing raindrops on his face. Anything was better than feeling betrayal…this time from Sadie, who couldn’t have hurt him more if she’d stabbed him in the heart with one of her four-inch heels.

Aiden paced the width of Shane’s office while his cousin finished his phone call.

Aiden had sweet-talked his way past Keena, Shane’s secretary, at the front door, and Shane had waved him in while he wrapped up with whoever he was talking to now.

Shane ended the call and stood from his desk. “To what do I owe the honor?” He held out a hand and Aiden embraced it, bringing it in for a half hug. “Haven’t seen you in a while…”

“Since I asked Sadie to marry me at your party?”

“Something like that.”

Shane had sent a text to Aiden a day later. A simple “What’s up?” to which Aiden replied, “Working on it.” He hadn’t talked to him since.

Aiden had been standing in front of a bookshelf on the far wall, studying the books and trinkets lining the wood. He turned back to it now and pointed at the three mismatched monkeys, all covering their mouths with their hands. “Why do you have three Speak No Evil monkeys?” He picked one up. It was
pink
, for God’s sake.

Shane took the effeminate monkey from his hand and put it back on the shelf, careful to line it up with the others. “Crickitt gets them for me,” he said. Followed by, “Don’t ask. What can I do for you?”

Aiden paced away from the shelf to the center of the room before turning around and facing Shane. “You can buy me out of the Axle’s contract so I can get the hell out of town.” Aiden had lashed himself to the motorcycle shops in every way. Now he had a sudden longing to move back to Oregon. Or China. Or the moon. But he couldn’t. He was stuck.

“What are you talking about? You love that place. This is going to be your final score. Your retirement plan.”

Aiden blew out a breath.

“Sadie,” Shane guessed. “Didn’t work out?”

He would never cry in front of Shane. Even though he felt the humiliating burn behind his eyeballs. He shook his head and bit his tongue.

Shane sighed and ambled to his desk. He collapsed into his executive chair and gestured for Aiden to sit in one of the guest chairs. He did, sinking into it like a sulking kid.

After a moment of silence, Shane said, “Falling in love with Crickitt scared the shit out of me.”

Aiden’s eyebrows rose. Shane wasn’t one to admit weakness. Wore his stiff upper lip as proudly as the tie knotted around his neck. Shane loved Crickitt, obviously, but to hear him admit he was…scared? It was…Aiden didn’t even have a word to describe what it was.

“You have my attention,” Aiden told him.

“You’re not like I am, Aiden. You’re okay with this”—he waved a hand—“feelings stuff.” Shane leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. “Maybe Sadie’s more like I am. Less…sure of herself.” Shane frowned like he hated to admit that.

Aiden watched him, his mind spinning. Partially because he’d never thought about Shane
not
being sure of himself in any capacity. He had it more together than anyone Aiden knew. Shane was a
billionaire
, for God’s sake.

But Shane wasn’t the focus. His cousin was suggesting that Sadie wasn’t sure of herself, that
she
was the one not okay with this “feelings stuff.” Wasn’t it more important for her to place her trust in Aiden? Faith, trust—that’s what this whole thing was about. Yet the faith Sadie had placed in Aiden had petered out almost immediately.

Aiden shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t do this again.”

Shane’s phone buzzed and Keena announced into the intercom, “Mr. Alberts is here.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Shane answered. He let go of the button. Aiden stood to leave. When he reached the door, he halted at the sound of Shane’s voice.

“Crickitt gave me one more chance than I deserved,” he said. “Just one.”

Aiden swallowed hard and nodded without turning around. Then he opened the door and let himself out.

“Drinks at Bo’s Tavern,” Perry said, leaning into Sadie’s cubicle on Friday evening. He frowned at her. “What’s wrong with you?”

She was numb, that’s what was wrong with her. This time, when Aiden walked out, she hadn’t cried. Hadn’t curled into a ball and wept like last time. Also unlike last time, she hadn’t had to ignore his calls and texts, because none had come. He’d shut her out completely.

And the horrible, awful truth was that she understood why. And she didn’t blame him one bit. He’d been nothing but transparent and loving and she’d been her normal, obstinate self, hiding behind her Great Wall of No Emotion. Which may have been cute when she’d first met Aiden. May have been endearing after they’d spent a little more time together. But now? Now that sex was in the picture…now that Aiden had declared his love for her…yeah, not so much.

Perry cleared his throat and Sadie mumbled something about having plans tonight. She gathered her things, left the building, and climbed into her car. But instead of going home for the fourth lonely night in a row, she drove to Crickitt’s house. Maybe if the pool was installed, Sadie could drown herself in it.

She knocked on the front door, still unsure of what she’d say, and pretty sure Crickitt already suspected something was up. Aiden was Shane’s cousin, after all. Word had to have traveled.

Crickitt opened the door, dressed in a casual cotton dress. “Sadie. Hi.” She frowned, gave Sadie a once-over. “Were we supposed to go out tonight?”

“No. I just stopped by.”

Crickitt conked her head. “Brain not functioning lately, I’m telling you.” She stepped aside and Sadie walked in, admiring what Crickitt had done with the place. She’d moved into Shane’s monochrome world and infused it with color. From the paintings on the walls, to cherished knickknacks, Crickitt’s eclectic style was showcased in each room.

They crossed to the kitchen, and Crickitt opened the narrow wine cooler on the far wall. “Red or white?”

“What will get me drunk the fastest?”

Crickitt slid her a smile and extracted a bottle, using an electric wine opener to uncork it. She poured Sadie a glass of red and joined her at the counter. “All right. What’s going on?”

Sadie looked at her glass and frowned. “Aren’t you having any?”

Crickitt shook her curls. “I have to write up a proposal tonight. I’d better not. So…?”

Sadie took a drink from her glass. The wine sat in her mouth, flavorless, tasteless. Like everything else in her life since Aiden had walked off her stoop and rode off into the rain. Even the sun didn’t feel warm on her skin anymore.

She blinked over at Crickitt who sat, eyebrows elevated in anticipation.

“Aiden and I had sex,” Sadie blurted. “A lot of sex.”

Crickitt smiled and inhaled, probably to
squee
, but then her face fell. “You don’t look happy about it. Was it…bad?”

“What? No. It was amazing. I mean, I don’t have anything to compare it to, but if it got any better, he would’ve had to poke me with a stick when he finished to see if I was still alive.”

Crickitt laughed but sobered quickly. “I don’t understand. You look miserable.”

“I
am
miserable.” Sadie gave her the rundown. The abandoned ballroom, Aiden’s bedroom, the tree house, her apartment…all the way up to the part when he demanded to know how she felt about him. “I couldn’t say it, Crickitt. I couldn’t say it because I don’t know. I knew once…but then Aiden hurt me so badly…” She shook her head. “And Trey…I thought I was in love then, but how could I love someone who would do that to me?” She took a breath. “Aiden”—saying his name hurt, but she said it again anyway—“Aiden keeps
saying it
. That he loves me, that he loves me so much. He looks into my eyes and into my soul and—”

Sadie’s breath hitched and fat tears escaped her eyes. She covered her mouth as she sobbed. Ah, there they were. She knew they were in there somewhere. A few minutes under Crickitt’s shimmering, doe-eyed stare and Sadie loses all control. The woman could bring water from a rock.

Crickitt palmed Sadie’s shoulder. “Of course he loves you, Sadie,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice terribly calm. Sadie blinked away the tears blurring her vision in time to see her best friend smile. “Aiden would never have proposed if he didn’t love you with all he is.”

Sadie shook her head. “Which is why he left when I asked him if we could see each other l-less.” Oh goody, the hiccup-cry. Because this wasn’t humiliating enough as it was.

“He left?”

Sadie nodded, and—what the hell—cried some more. “Have you heard from him this w-week?” She mopped her face and wiped her hands on her skirt. “When he left my apartment, it was raining and he was on the bike and he was s-so angry.”

She’d been sick with worry but refused to call. Aiden was safe. He was always safe. Except for the one time he wasn’t. And what were the odds of him getting into two wrecks?

Crickitt bit her lip. She looked worried. Which made Sadie panic. “Has Shane seen him this week, Crickitt?”

“If he did, he didn’t mention it.” She was quick to add, “But Shane doesn’t see him every week.”

Sadie slid off the stool, holding onto the counter to keep her legs under her. “What if…”

“No, honey.” Crickitt stood, too, putting her hand on Sadie’s back. “Don’t even think it. We would have heard from Mike. Or from Landon. Or from Angel or Evan. We would know by now.”