24. Aiden

CHAPTER 24

AIDEN

W e wander the streets for a couple hours, and though it's fun going into shops with Candice and laughing as she tries on silly hats and ridiculous sweaters, my stomach starts rumbling so loudly I can't ignore it anymore.

She's sliding some particularly obnoxious joke glasses onto my face as it grumbles again. "Is that you?" she asks, biting her lip to not laugh.

"I haven't eaten since breakfast!"

"Neither have I," she says like that's a good comeback.

"All right. Let's get dinner, then."

Her face crumples, and my stomach twinges in hungry pain at the idea of her saying no to food. "It's early for dinner, isn't it?" she says.

"It's past three," I say, glancing at my watch. "A late lunch, then?"

"I did see a place a little way back that looked like they do great pasta. It smelled good."

"Great," I say, maybe too quickly. I'm too hungry to really care where we go. I need something before I keel over and die. "Let's go?"

I sigh with visible relief when she agrees. "Let me get a photo first, though. You look awesome in those shades."

Pouting, I strike a pose. Undoubtedly, awesome is the last thing I look, but it's worth it for the joy it's bringing her. She whips out her phone and smashes the shutter a bunch of times. It's like she wants to extend my misery, so I place the shades back on the shelf and make my very saddest face at her so she feels bad for me.

"Okay, let's go," she sighs, either because I succeeded or because she's hungry too. I'm choosing to believe the former.

We make our way out of the store, and I set a fast pace towards the restaurant. I'm pretty sure I know which one she's talking about — it had a delicious garlic smell drifting out of its doors, and I'm pretty sure I got hints of freshly baked bread too. I could really go for a pizza right about now.

It doesn't help that Candice looks sweet enough to eat in that dress too. The blue brings out her eyes.

Fortunately, the restaurant isn't busy, so we get seated right away, a tiny table with a wonky leg, nestled right in a corner and lit by the dubiously yellow fluorescent above. It's not quite the candlelit dinner I'd imagined, but she's here willingly and she's smiling in that way that makes my heart stop. Right now, that's all I can ask for. More than anything, I want her company.

The waitress hands us each a menu, cheap paper laminated badly enough that water has managed to make the ink run, smudging the pictures of pasta into red blobs. If I couldn't smell the food, I'd be seriously tempted to get up and leave. Family dives can be great even if they're a bit rough around the edges, but — and call me snobby for it — I prefer my food delivered on a plate I one hundred percent trust is clean.

My stomach growls painfully again to tell me to stop worrying.

"What you getting?" I ask, hoping Candice will pick something we can share so I don't have to do any thinking.

She hums thoughtfully, chewing on her thumbnail as she considers the options. "How does pizza sound? But I'll only share if you like normal toppings."

"What's a normal topping ?" I ask, intrigued. As long as she doesn't say something gross like olives or anchovies, I could not care less what gets melted into the cheese. Unless she tries to tell me she doesn't like cheese. Maybe that's a total dealbreaker, actually.

I'm being ridiculous. Why would she suggest pizza if she didn't like cheese?

She purses her lips, then gives me her list. "Extra cheese. Eggplant and broccoli and mushrooms for vegetarian, or sausage and pepperoni for meaty."

I grin in relief. "Anything but anchovies, right?"

She sticks her tongue out in disgust. "Who in their right mind would put a fish on a pizza?"

"My thoughts exactly. Go with whatever you feel like; I'm easy."

Her eyes sparkling, she flags down the waiter and orders her vegetarian option. Probably a good idea — I don't remember the last time I had anything healthy and my body won't thank me for keeping up that trend.

"So this has been fun," I say. "Today, I mean. This afternoon, you and me."

I'm expecting her to come back with a noncommittal response again, but to my surprise, she doesn't. "Yes. I've enjoyed it, actually."

She's been blowing so hot and cold with me that it's hard to tell what she really thinks, but I've started to realize what honesty looks like on her, and either she's a way better liar than I've been giving her credit for, or she's telling me the hard truth. "Good. This is what I wanted out of this weekend. Just you and me."

"I hated you, you know," she says, giving me whiplash with the change of direction. My mouth drops open, unable to form any words in reply. "For years," she continues, a faraway look entering her eyes like this is a monologue she's had prepared for a long time. "I really, really hated you."

"Why?" I manage. It's like the wind's been knocked out of me, like she's hit me and I've landed flat on my back.

Candice presses her lips together like she's considering how to word what she wants to say. "I meant what I said earlier. You've always had it so easy." She holds up a finger to stop me interrupting in protest. "I know your parents weren't great, and that sucks for any kid, but you never had to struggle for every single success, to claw your way to the top and not care how much you bled to get there. You were always fed and given whatever you wanted. Did you even work growing up? For money that you needed?"

I shake my head, too ashamed to say anything. I get it now, her rage. I always thought she envied my life, but it's not that at all. She's angry that I refuse to understand her.

"Exactly. I've always had to work and work, for everything. And I'm not complaining — I wouldn't change anything I've done to get to where I am. I'm proud of it. But it doesn't help to see you parading around like you've got it so hard when the Aiden I knew eight years ago wasn't real and the job I was busting my ass for didn't even exist."

"I'm sorry," I breathe. "I'm sorry I never truly realized why you always fought so much."

She nods, mulling over my apology. What else does she need to hear me say? I want to tell her that she can ask me to say anything, to promise anything and I'd do it. The more time I spend with her, the less I want to let her go. This wasn't meant to be a weekend where we exorcised our demons and went our separate ways, content with the past being laid to rest.

Maybe I'm a romantic, but I wanted this weekend to be about falling in love.

I don't get to say anything else, though, because the waiter returns and lays an enormous pizza between us. My hands are literally shaking with hunger, so I don't wait for permission to drag three of the huge slices onto my plate. I don't comment on the wry smile Candice gives me as she watches.

"This looks great," I say, then cram as much pizza as is polite into my face. Around my mouthful, I groan in delight and say, "Mmm, it is great."

She takes a massive bite too and nods in agreement. Guess she was hungrier than she made out.

We eat in silence for a bit, then I realize what it is that I actually want to say. "I mean it, Candice. I am sorry. I've always respected you so much more than you know, and I'm sorry I never showed that properly. I'm sorry I made things harder for you than they needed to be."

Again, she only nods in reply. This is it, then. This is the patching up of the wounds before we part ways forever. The idea of it makes my eyes prick with tears that I have to fight back because that's the last thing I want to explain right now. That I love her. Completely and honestly, I love her.

And again, she surprises me. "I think I always knew that. I think I forgive you. I'm tired of being angry about it all. I'm tired of hating you and everything you stand for."

"Everything?"

She shrugs, and suddenly the mood is light again, like the clouds have parted without warning. Maybe there is something to be said about a release, after all. "I've been through phases with it."

"So, if I were to drop on one knee right now, you'd say…?"

"Don't push your luck," she scolds, her eyes shining with tears too. That confession can't have been easy for her. It wasn't for me.

"We'll talk about it later. For now, let's enjoy a great meal with great company."

She smiles. "Still pushing your luck, man."

"What's wrong with thinking you're great?" I say, grabbing another slice of pizza. Somehow, it looks like we are going to manage to make it through most of this thing.

All I get in reply is an embarrassed grunt paired with a flush rising in her cheeks. How much of her bravado is masking insecurity and doubt? Even if she doesn't believe me for saying it, surely she has to know how awesome she is.

I decide against telling her that she looks cute with a pink face like this.

"More pizza?" I say, gesturing at the leftovers. We've done good, but four slices still remain. I've eaten enough pizza dough to last me at least three more hours, and from the satisfied expression Candice gives me, it's safe to guess she has too. "But we've still got a whole stack of garlic bread."

"Midnight snack?" she suggests, and I grin maybe a little too hard at the idea of having a moonlit feast with her in our room.

"You're going to be hungry again by midnight?" I say instead of any of the sappy things I could say about wanting to share every meal with her for the rest of my life, or how great it would be to cuddle up with her in bed and eat pizza and watch movies and fall asleep in each other's arms.

She shakes her head emphatically. "Right now, I don't think I'm ever going to be hungry again."

"Cheers to that," I say, raising my glass. She clinks it gently with hers, a warm smile spreading over her face. Even in the unkind light, she's still beautiful. The shadows dance over her skin and make her smile seem deeper than it is, like it's a smile that could be endless. I want it to be endless.

"Come on," she says, finishing the last of her drink. "Let's get the check and a box."

I pull out my wallet, and she gives me a sharp dagger of a look. "I won't change my mind," I say, laying the wallet down on the table. "This is my treat."

"Hmph," she responds, then adds, "I don't need you to treat me."

Slowly, tentatively, I reach out to take her hands. She tenses as I do, but doesn't flinch. "I want to. Please let me, Candice. I want to give you anything you want."

She doesn't say anything else, just slumps back in her chair, an unreadable pout on her face. "Okay," she says, finally.

I smile and flag down the waiter to give him my card. He takes it away and leaves us both alone for a perfect moment. I've never wanted to freeze time more than this. To capture the pout on her face. The thrill of being us, together.