26. Aiden

CHAPTER 26

AIDEN

I f I could wake up every morning with a beautiful woman in my arms like this, life would be perfect. Well, it would be perfect if that woman was Candice. Her head is tucked against my chest, obscuring her face from me, but the gentle rise and fall of her breast against me sends a calmness through me unlike anything I've felt before. I don't remember the last time I felt so content.

And the worst part is that I know it's going to end the second she opens her eyes.

So, I revel in the moment, tracing gentle spirals over her soft, pale skin, breathing in the smell of her, the musk of sleep and leftover traces of yesterday's perfume.

When she does stir at last, she burrows further into me, hugging me close and smiling until the sleepy haze lifts and she realizes what she's doing and pulls away, leaving an empty void where her body was. I summon all my strength to stop myself shivering.

"Good morning," I whisper.

She grunts in response and pulls the covers over her head.

"Did you sleep well?"

"You snore," she grumbles, her voice muffled. "Plus we went to bed late."

"That wasn't completely my fault," I say, poking her leg with my toes. She kicks back, grumbling again, and before we know it, the retaliations lead us back into each other's arms, giggling.

She sighs as she gives in to my embrace, resting her head on my chest to look at me. "I should shower. And so should you."

"You saying I smell? Thanks," I say sardonically, pretending to be more upset than I am.

She rolls her eyes at me. "We both do. Anyway, I thought you'd leap at the chance to get in a shower with me."

"It was a group invitation?"

"If you want it to be."

I pretend to contemplate the answer as if we don't both know it already. "Okay, I'm persuaded. Shower, breakfast, then we should probably find June."

"Why?" she asks, her lip curling.

"Well…" I stammer, realizing I can't actually think of a reason at all. "We did kind of run away from her."

"So let's do it again today. What's stopping us?"

I don't have an answer to that either, so I say nothing. The idea of spending a day alone with Candice does seem way more fun than June's weird card games — it was yesterday.

We get up and shower, eventually, and the bathroom is so big that we could have fit four more people into the cubicle and still barely all have touched. Watching Candice like this, casually naked and completely at ease with herself, is a sight I can barely look away from. There's a radiance from her confidence that makes me want to drop to one knee here and now.

Not that she'd appreciate that.

Because we don't have anywhere to be, we take our time getting ready. I watch as the hot wind from the hairdryer puffs her hair up, surrounding her head like a fluffy, golden halo. It's a blessing to have her trust again. I'd be stupid to let that go again.

"Let's get breakfast out," she says, pulling on her pants and a light-green shirt that flatters her figure without being too tight. "Let's get out of here."

"Okay," I say, though I don't need any persuading. The hotel breakfast was mediocre anyway. I swear I'm not getting my money's worth for this place.

The morning is warm when we step out into it, the sun hazy behind clouds, a faint breeze making the trees sway and shadows swim before us. I brush my hand over Candice's knuckles as we walk, asking a silent question that she answers by lacing her fingers through mine. We barely speak as we walk into town, letting the morning air envelop us in a comfortable quiet.

It's almost easy to forget all the headaches of work out here. It's almost easy to believe I'm here with my fiancée, enjoying a vacation without a care in the world. Is this how normal people feel — like they don't have the weight of an entire legacy on their shoulders?

Candice leads me towards a pastry store she says she saw yesterday. I kind of stopped paying attention after we'd been in and out of so many gift stores, but her eyes sparkle with the suggestion, and a chocolate croissant does sound pretty good right about now. Or a waffle. Or anything, really. My stomach is starting to get over all the pizza and wants more. It's never satisfied.

"Thank God it's open," says Candice as we wander underneath a faded awning, the red stripes having seen enough weather to make them blend with the white and give the whole thing a muddy-pink quality. "I'm hungry."

"Me too. We should have had cold breakfast pizza before we came out."

Candice sticks her tongue out as she makes a face of utter disgust. "Gross. You don't grill leftover pizza?"

I open my mouth and pretend to be shocked. "Nothing better than cold pizza the next morning when it's got all super-greasy."

"And soggy? Blech." She shakes her head sadly. "Come on, let me treat you to a pastry."

"But—" I start, but she silences me with a glare before I can protest.

"Absolutely not. You got dinner, so breakfast is on me. Fair's fair."

She drags me inside and we're hit with the warm, buttery smell of baking goods. My stomach grumbles in anticipation, which makes Candice laugh. It's the most beautiful sound I could hear right now, except maybe for the crunch of fresh crusty bread.

"I'll get a chocolate croissant, two cinnamon buns, and a loaf of sourdough, thanks," I say to the guy behind the counter.

Candice raises her eyebrow at me.

"What?" I say.

"You'd think you haven't eaten in a week," she chuckles.

"I'm saving some of it for later!"

"So none to share, huh?" She puts her hands on her hips, and I stammer some nonsense syllables before she cracks into a laugh. "I'm kidding — get whatever you want. I'll have two almond croissants and a lemon slice, please."

The cashier barely even looks at us as he grabs our goods, carrying that dead-inside look that so many service people share. My father always used to remark loudly in front of that kind of worker, wondering why they didn't try harder to smile when their jobs were so easy. I never had that kind of job, but I deal with enough people now to know how annoying they are.

I make sure to add to Candice's tip when we leave, ignoring the way she glares at me. "Let's go to the lake," I say, getting ahead of whatever comment she's going to make. To my relief, she doesn't protest.

The breeze is stronger when we get to the shoreline, balancing the warm midday sun with endless ripples in the water that crash as tiny waves. As soon as we start walking, I open my bag of pastries and take out a cinnamon bun. My mouth is actually watering at how good it smells.

"You know," I say around my mouthful, "I have a brother."

"Really?" Candice says, licking her lips that are covered in flaky crumbs.

"Yeah. Mikey."

"Michael Fletcher the second," says Candice with an edge of contempt. No one else has ever understood why Mikey and I don't really get on, but she might. She's already closer than anyone else.

"He's two years older than me. Works overseas now. He was the head of an entire splinter arm of Fletcher Tech, but fortunately he split off from us a while ago to do his own thing."

"Fortunately?" Candice asks, taking another bite of her croissant.

I shrug. "Mikey was always better than me, and Dad never let us forget it. It was always, ‘Oh, Aiden, why aren't you running a business empire at school like your brother was at sixteen?' and whatever. He wouldn't have let Fletcher Tech get into this mess." I kick a rock bitterly, watching as it bounces into the lake with a splash.

Candice touches me gently on the arm. "Hey, don't. You said your dad left it in a bad way, right?" I nod, not trusting myself to say anything else without a barb. "So, how could Mikey have done anything different to you? He might be good but there's no way he's a miracle worker."

"Thanks… I think?" I'm pretty sure that's a compliment. Candice just smiles gently, casting her eyes down to the ground.

We walk in silence for a while, listening to the water and birds until she asks quietly, "You really think you're no good?"

I make a strained noise, any words I could say dying in my throat. We pause and stare out over to the houses and trees on the other side of the lake, tiny like a model railway. Other people living their lives. "I've always thought you deserved my job more than I do."

"Really?"

"Cross my heart. You're right to think I only got here through inheritance. God knows why Mikey didn't take over — well, I know exactly why. He's hanging out with princes in Dubai sitting on his own little empire; there's no way he'd want to come back to Olympus and go down with a sinking ship." I shove my hands in my pockets, the taste of bile in the back of my throat. I shouldn't have said any of that. It makes me look like a whining kid.

Instead of agreeing with me outright, though, Candice loops her arm around mine and steps close. "I wouldn't change a thing. You betraying me meant I got to make Mettie's and some of the best friends I've ever had. In a way, I guess I'm grateful for what you did. It led us here."

"Me neither," I say quietly. "Change it, I mean. I wouldn't. I never stopped thinking about you, all this time. I think I could have loved you then, if you'd let me."

"And now?" she asks, looking past me to stare out into the lake, her arm still around mine.

I take a shallow breath. Suddenly there isn't enough air in the world to breathe. I've never been as anxious in my life as I am around her. She makes my heart burn like it's about to set on fire. "I think I still could."

She smiles again but says nothing. But she also doesn't let go.

We walk in silence for a little longer, then the conversation turns into commenting on a weird duck splashing about like it's about to drown, and we don't revisit any topics any deeper than that. It's good, I suppose — it means I don't have a chance to screw this up.

But it does leave me wondering. If she doesn't have feelings for me, why is she still here?