23. Candice

CHAPTER 23

CANDICE

A lthough we're technically not doing anything wrong, we still tiptoe as we sneak down the corridor, both of us looking over our shoulders every now and again like we're in a shitty spy movie. I would feel bad for abandoning June if she wasn't so frustrating. She's a nice enough woman, but I do not see the world like she does in the slightest. I guess living in an oasis gives you a unique perspective on life.

I slip my sunglasses on as we walk through the atrium. It's not much of a disguise but it makes me relax more. Neither of us make eye contact with the receptionist as we make a beeline for the door.

The second we slide out into freedom, we're hit with a wave of heat — I'd almost forgotten it was still summer out here. Despite the sunglasses, I still squint in the bright, late morning light. A light breeze blows around us, rustling leaves overhead and taking the searing edge off the heat.

"Where are we going?" I ask, realizing suddenly that we're walking without a goal. This wasn't at all a well-thought-out plan, but it is nice to be free of the hotel. Even if I'm still mad at Aiden, it's getting harder to hold on to that anger. Every time I want to hate him, he does something else to prove that I shouldn't.

Aiden shrugs. "Wherever. So long as we don't have to play any more weird card games or anything."

I let out a snort of amusement. "She means well," I find myself saying, jumping to June's defense. "She's just…"

"Got the wrong end of the stick?" Aiden supplies and I nod with a slight chuckle.

"You could say that. She's lovely and all, but tell me you believe a single word of the ‘lines of fate and destiny' stuff she keeps going on about."

"I mean…" He trails off, unable to think of a good argument. I grin, smug at winning.

"If I'd known that all it takes to find your soulmate is a guessing game and choosing the same answers every time on This or That, then I'd have had way better luck dating."

He gives me a curious look. It's cute when he does it, this double blink and almost frown when he's processing information he wasn't expecting. "You've dated recently, then?" he asks in a way that's almost casual.

I shrug. "Kind of. I've been on dates but I haven't really dated, if you get me."

"Yeah," he says. " I haven't."

"Really? I'd have thought you'd have girls hanging off you left, right and center, a handsome guy like you."

"Yeah, exactly why I haven't. And hey, you think I'm attractive?" He smirks, and I pretend to go in to hit him on the arm.

"Shut up. I didn't say that."

"Actually, you literally did."

The laugh that escapes me is way bigger than I expected, but it's natural. It's good. It's like we're releasing some of the demons that have been hanging between us, but in a context we're ready for. I never thought I'd laugh with him like this again.

It's reminding me of what I liked about him in the first place. And now I'm torn between trying to beat down those feelings, or deciding if it wouldn't be so awful to marry him after all.

That's a decision for later.

Soon, the dusty hotel path turns into the main road that winds down into the oasis village. It's a place that oozes character. All the houses have brightly colored front doors, and the people smile at us as we walk by. To them, we probably do look like a couple. For the first time all weekend, I don't think I hate the idea of that as much as I could.

"Where do you suppose June thinks we are?" I ask as we hit the lakeside strip of shops and restaurants. It's nothing compared to the variety you get in the city, but there's a steady flow of people coming and going and a constant sound of laughter coming from within the lunch bistro. I don't think I could hack this small-scale living, but I bet if it's the kind of lifestyle that suits you, this is an awesome place to live.

"Who cares?" says Aiden, half-shrugging. I roll my eyes at him, that old fondness creeping closer to me with every second.

"Do you think they'll send someone after us?"

"Candice, we're not at school or in prison. We can do what we want."

Not exactly appreciating his tone, I spot a cute-looking gift shop and grab his wrist to drag him over to it without warning. He stumbles on the first step, his legs still expecting to be heading in a straight line as I try to change his trajectory. But he doesn't resist or complain as he wiggles his wrist from my grip to hold my hand properly.

I have to confess, his large, warm hand is comforting. I try to tell myself that this is one of the last things I want, but the fact I don't make the slightest effort to pull away begs to differ.

We wander into the shop, Aiden having to duck under the low doorframe. The shelves are packed with trinkets — everything you could ever think of slapping the words "Desert Cove" on, from mugs to magnets to snow globes that hold a little scene of palm trees next to the lake being rained on by gold confetti.

The bell announces our entrance, and the shopkeeper greets us with a warm smile. "If you need anything, just ask," he says, his rosy cheeks taking up most of the space on his face.

"Thanks," says Aiden before ducking behind a row of festive palm tree ornaments coated in a fine layer of glitter that has shed into a sparkling layer on the carpet.

As we pretend to examine the glitter-encrusted trees and shells, I whisper, "Why are we hiding?"

"I don't want things to get awkward if I'm recognized."

I stand up straight at that, looking down at where he's crouching, my eyebrow raised. "You are so full of yourself, you know."

"It's a real concern!" He tries to defend himself, but his floppy hair in his face makes him look like a child protesting at having a toy taken away.

"There's no way people actually stop you like you're a celebrity." His nose wrinkles as he pulls a dubious frown and I scoff in disbelief. "Tell me you haven't been stopped for autographs."

"I thought we weren't lying to each other anymore," he says smugly.

"No way."

"Hey, you've got my autograph too."

I drop back down into a crouch, pushing him gently so he rocks back and forwards again like a spinning top. "That's different and you know it."

"It's forever, though, if you want it to be."

What do I say to that? My head is spinning way too much to think of something sincere, so I reach behind him to grab one of the ornaments. It's a mermaid whose bra has been painted slightly off, meaning it barely covers her nipple-less breasts.

"Imagine hanging this up in your house," I say, looping the string over my finger to let her spin freely, her glitter-encrusted hair and hand-held sign welcoming us to Desert Cove catching the light.

"You don't think she's pretty?" he asks, pouting like I'm making a mean comment on a real girl and not an unfortunate mermaid whose molding hasn't been kind to her.

"I think her plastic surgery went really wrong," I say, holding her closer to his face so he can look properly.

Even though he laughs at the comment, he still takes her gently in his hand and cups her there like she's a baby bird. "I feel sorry for her," he says.

"You're buying it?" I say in surprise as he stands back up, still holding her.

"Support the local economy," he shrugs, rolling her over in his palm.

God, he's sweet. Would marrying him be the worst thing I could do?

"Come on," I say, not wanting to linger on any growing emotions. "Help me pick out a postcard for my mom."

We head over to the postcard stands — there are three display racks that are as tall as Aiden, holding hundreds of cards featuring different designs jammed into the holders. "Silly or tasteful?" he asks.

I laugh like the answer isn't obvious. "Silly, obviously. Whoever genuinely wants a tasteful postcard?"

"Don't be so sure. One year, I was away in Venice for some conference and I sent my mother this hilarious cartoon gondolier postcard. And she was not impressed."

"Well, my mom has a sense of humor," I say, then quickly add, "Sorry. I didn't mean that to sound like that."

He chuckles, not a trace of hurt on his face. "Ah, no, you're not wrong. That woman hasn't smiled a day in her life."

"You didn't have a lot of luck with parents, huh?"

He shrugs, a sudden cold descending over the conversation. I wish I hadn't brought this up at all. He always looks so sad when he's vulnerable.

"Hey, at least they made me rich," he says, making a weak joke. I smile in response, desperate to return to the lighthearted banter we were enjoying only seconds ago.

The silence between us isn't entirely comfortable, so I search the postcards with increasing urgency. I walk behind one of the stands and rotate it round and round, the shapes blurring into one. Aiden stands on the other side of the rack, looking as lost as me. Through the mesh, I catch his eye and make a face, and to my relief he smiles in return, sticking his tongue out.

As everything seems to with us, the moment escalates into trying to outdo each other for the dumbest face until our noses brush against the plastic coating of the rack, the postcards rattling in the shelves. I break away in laughter as Aiden crosses his eyes and flares his nostrils in such a ridiculous way that I'm willing to let him win for a change.

He stands up too but knocks a card to the floor. I bend down to pick it up and flip it over — it's a highly edited "wish you were here" collage of uniquely terrible photos of the cove. "This one is perfect," I say, beaming.

"Let me?" he says, holding out his hand.

"I can pay fifty cents for myself," I say, clinging onto my postcard out of pride.

Aiden gives me a look that's somewhere between fond and petulant. "I know you can. You can give me the money later if it really makes you feel better. But if I'm buying her" — he gestures to the mermaid — "then I might as well simplify things and speed the process up."

With the biggest frown I can muster, I hand it over. "Why do you want that thing, anyway?"

"A souvenir," he says, his eyes warm with such affection that I can't look away. "Of the time we spent here. I don't want to forget."

I keep frowning, but I can't deny it to myself any longer.

If he leaned in now to kiss me, not only would I not resist, but I'd welcome it. I've tried so hard to fight it, but the truth is undeniable. From the moment we met, I've felt a connection to Aiden, and seeing him outside the context of work is making my attraction grow and grow beyond my control.

It's not love. But there's a part of me that's saying not yet …