He let out a long, slow exhalation. “I don’t want to lead you on, Deb,” he said. “The thing is, I’m not interested in dating. Not anyone.” He waited a beat. “Trust me. It is literally me, not you, in this case.”
She looked crestfallen. “You’re not interested in even trying . . .”
He winced. “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “I just . . . I’m not attracted. To people. In general.”
It wasn’t like his blurted admission to Maggie, which had been received like an egg dropped in about ten feet of cotton batting on a safety net. It wasn’t even his fumbling confession to Riley, which was more like a juggled near-drop on a hard kitchen floor. This was like an egg being thrown at a sidewalk from ten stories up. Or possibly shot from a bazooka.
Still, he wasn’t prepared for the response.
“You don’t want to date me, that’s fine,” she said, her voice low and cutting. “But you didn’t have to lie.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re in love with Maggie!” Deb snapped. “It’s obvious.”
“What? I’m not!” he protested. “I haven’t even known her that long. Just a few months!”
More to the point, that wasn’t how his attractions worked. All two of them, admittedly. They usually blindsided him. He was in love before he knew . . .
Before he . . .
Oh, shit.
“Aiden?”
He realized that Deb had asked him something, or told him something, and he’d been momentarily struck deaf by his realization.
He was attracted, really attracted. To Maggie. Maggie the prickly. Maggie, who would probably smack him upside the head and yell SNAP OUT OF IT if she had an inkling of how he felt. Even though there had been that moment on her couch . . .
Had there been a moment? He had no idea. It happened so infrequently, and it wasn’t something he tuned in to at this point.
“Aiden!”
He blinked. Deb was scowling at him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I appreciate the offer, and I’m sorry I was blunt, and . . . I’m just sorry. But I can’t do this.”
He got up, feeling terrible, even though he was glad he hadn’t gone through with it.
He had feelings for Maggie.
He was attracted to Maggie.
It was the last thing he needed, and he had absolutely no idea what to do with any of it.
CHAPTER 26
ARMOR-PIERCING QUESTION
Maggie had managed to keep herself occupied for four whole days since the Incident. She hadn’t texted Aiden since his apology, and he hadn’t texted her again. While she felt a pang at this—she missed the easy camaraderie, just the sheer comfort of texting with him during the day—she also knew that if she texted him, it’d be awkward.
He’d apologized for asking her. She hadn’t responded until Sunday, and all she’d been able to cobble together was “I’m sorry too” without being perfectly clear what she was being sorry about, possibly because she was still confused about that herself. If he hadn’t noticed that she’d almost planted one on him, she didn’t want to tip him off to it and make things worse. If he had noticed, maybe they could . . . pretend she hadn’t? And go back to normal?
Forget seeing him in person, though. “Normal” was going to have to be guild stuff, playing online. And hopefully texting. God, his texts had brightened her day more than she’d realized.
You’re still crushing.
She gritted her teeth. How the fuck could she have a crush at nearly fifty?
Not that she was going to judge other people who had crushes . . . they could have them at 108, for all she cared. But after Trev left, she was so angry, she thought her fury had basically burned away any residual feelings of that nature. The first year, the thought of being with anyone had made her almost bug eyed with wrath.
By the next year, she’d settled into a semiroutine with Kit, and the insidious stuff she’d ignored in the name of making the marriage work had sprouted from the wreckage, and she’d been too busy second-guessing how she might be fucking up Kit’s life to think about a relationship. Trev had been adamant: Her approach to parenting would ruin their child. Her approach to everything would ruin his life. The idea of opening herself up to any sort of criticism, from anyone, was abhorrent . . .
So no crushes. No interaction.
When Kit had gotten to his junior year of high school, she’d stopped being quite so scared. She’d settled into their life, a nice, quiet, insulated little bunker of solitude. It wasn’t that she was angry at men, or afraid of them, anymore. It was that she quite firmly didn’t want the hassle. Her life had finally gotten uncomplicated. She didn’t need to add one more thing.
Then Aiden had showed up, with his geeky-healer charm, and his gentle sense of humor, and his absolute lack of pressure or expectation.
Trev had criticized her mercilessly by the end: how she’d looked, what she ate, what she liked or didn’t like.
Aiden thought she was amazing for simply heating up soup.
Her phone rang, and she jolted, her heart pounding. Was he calling her? She’d hoped that they’d gradually move back to their old patterns, the gaming, the texts. Why would he want to talk to her?
Then she saw the display: KIT.
She sniffed, got herself together, then answered. “Hey there. I was going to call you, but didn’t want to cramp your style. Or be that old person who calls.” She paused. “Come to think of it, why are you calling?”
“Just checking on you,” he said. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while, and I thought . . . Do you have any big news, maybe?” His tone was leading.
She blinked, her mind scrolling through what he was talking about. Had she missed something? It wasn’t her birthday—that wasn’t until next month. It wasn’t his birthday either. She thought of the shows they both liked, the games. “Um . . . I don’t think so?” she finally admitted.
He waited a beat. “Seriously? You’re not going to tell me?”
“What are you talking about?” She knew she sounded a little peeved, but she just wasn’t in the right headspace for guessing games.
“You’re dating.”
She spluttered. “I’m WHAT?”
“Wait, so you’re not dating?” Now Kit sounded confused. “But Harrison said you were.”
“Harrison? Why does he think that?” She felt bewildered, and vulnerable. Her irritation meter, which had already started creeping up, was starting to bury the needle in the red. “What did he say? What did he tell you?”
“Whoa, hey! Calm down,” Kit said, and she shut up. It wasn’t his fault, after all. “Harrison just said that his mom said you’re dating some guy she knows. That you guys have been seeing each other for a while.”
She goggled, her mouth moving like a fish flopping on the bottom of a boat. No sounds came out other than strangled protesting noises.
“So I take it you aren’t dating some guy Ms. Deb knows?” Kit’s tone turned dry.
“No!”
Kit sighed. “Why does she think you are? She said that he’d probably asked you to some wedding or something.”