inability to get any sleep. Between our little heart-to-heart and the commotion from the press in front of my house, rest has completely escaped him. He’s probably still upset about having to sleep on the couch. I was strong—no way was he getting into my bed. I continue to stumble into the kitchen, heading directly for the coffee pot. Sweet nectar of the gods, oh how I love you!
Aiden steps into the kitchen, careful not to make eye contact. “Good morning. Do you want me to make some breakfast?”
“No thanks. I don’t think we have time. I’ve got to be at Eli’s at nine for the attorney meeting.” I’d like to feel bad, but I can’t swing it. I’m actually feeling really good about getting that off my chest. I’ve never talked to Aiden like that before, always afraid my words or tone would send him packing.
“Okay, but you should–” Aiden is interrupted by a frantic knock on the door.
“Seriously? It’s like ass o’clock.” I head for the door.
He looks at me with a flash of panic. “No, Shay let me get it.” Aiden rummages through his ho-bag for his handgun on the way to the door. He opens the door a crack to see who’s there. Aiden peeks through and closes the door quickly as though he has just seen a pack of zombies trying to claw their way in.
The banging persists but is now accompanied by an assault of a different kind. “Let me in, asshole.”
“Trish.” I roll my eyes; I’m not ready for her this early. I take in a deep breath, preparing myself for the storm. “Let her in, Aiden.” I’m a little exasperated. The longer she stands outside the more caustic she’ll be when she gets in.
He opens the door. Trish brushes by Aiden, glaring at him until she passes him and zeros in on me. “Where the hell have you been? Raphael is losing his shit. You won’t answer your phone. What the fuck?” Yup, caustic. I swear she should come equipped with a warning label. My eyes are burning from looking at her platinum-blonde pixie-cut this early in the morning. I know there is more to what she’s saying and she’s still actually talking, but that’s all I can process this early without coffee.
While her voice is droning on Aiden motions with his eyes to the gun in his hand, then to Trish, raising his eyebrows as though asking for permission. Of course Aiden would never hurt Trish, but that doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t cross our minds. She notices the exchange between Aiden and me. “Fuck you, Aiden.” She turns to me. “And why the fuck is he here?” Setting her bright green eyes directly back to Aiden, she demands, “Why are you here? Last I heard you were still riding the douche bag express.”
She breezes past me. The clickety-clack of her six-inch stilettos on the tile floor sounds like someone is driving roofing nails through my skull. I muse that even in the heels she’s still a good four inches shorter than I am. I spot the extra coffee on the cup holder she’s carrying. “Did you bring me coffee?” I’m actually feeling a little excitement at the prospect.
“Yes, but I don’t think you deserve it. Why would you let this fuck into your house? You said you were done with him.” She stares daggers into Aiden.
“I’m here to protect her from syphilis-infested crotch pheasants. Oh look, first one of the day.” Aiden motions for her to leave.
“Oh my God, would you two stop.” My head is pounding; the last thing I need is these two going at it. I take one of the lattes from Trish. “I’ve been a little occupied; you know, murder and shit.”
Aiden picks up a magazine off the coffee table, heading for the restroom. “I’ll be in the oval office. I have to take a ‘Trish.’ Back in ten.”
“Shut the fuck up, Aiden.” She turns to me, pleading. “Shay, seriously?”
I shrug and let the coffee do its work. It’s only good because it’s right here, now. I drink it down even though it’s some non-fat triple soy vegan latte that would do more good
Aiden steps into the kitchen, careful not to make eye contact. “Good morning. Do you want me to make some breakfast?”
“No thanks. I don’t think we have time. I’ve got to be at Eli’s at nine for the attorney meeting.” I’d like to feel bad, but I can’t swing it. I’m actually feeling really good about getting that off my chest. I’ve never talked to Aiden like that before, always afraid my words or tone would send him packing.
“Okay, but you should–” Aiden is interrupted by a frantic knock on the door.
“Seriously? It’s like ass o’clock.” I head for the door.
He looks at me with a flash of panic. “No, Shay let me get it.” Aiden rummages through his ho-bag for his handgun on the way to the door. He opens the door a crack to see who’s there. Aiden peeks through and closes the door quickly as though he has just seen a pack of zombies trying to claw their way in.
The banging persists but is now accompanied by an assault of a different kind. “Let me in, asshole.”
“Trish.” I roll my eyes; I’m not ready for her this early. I take in a deep breath, preparing myself for the storm. “Let her in, Aiden.” I’m a little exasperated. The longer she stands outside the more caustic she’ll be when she gets in.
He opens the door. Trish brushes by Aiden, glaring at him until she passes him and zeros in on me. “Where the hell have you been? Raphael is losing his shit. You won’t answer your phone. What the fuck?” Yup, caustic. I swear she should come equipped with a warning label. My eyes are burning from looking at her platinum-blonde pixie-cut this early in the morning. I know there is more to what she’s saying and she’s still actually talking, but that’s all I can process this early without coffee.
While her voice is droning on Aiden motions with his eyes to the gun in his hand, then to Trish, raising his eyebrows as though asking for permission. Of course Aiden would never hurt Trish, but that doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t cross our minds. She notices the exchange between Aiden and me. “Fuck you, Aiden.” She turns to me. “And why the fuck is he here?” Setting her bright green eyes directly back to Aiden, she demands, “Why are you here? Last I heard you were still riding the douche bag express.”
She breezes past me. The clickety-clack of her six-inch stilettos on the tile floor sounds like someone is driving roofing nails through my skull. I muse that even in the heels she’s still a good four inches shorter than I am. I spot the extra coffee on the cup holder she’s carrying. “Did you bring me coffee?” I’m actually feeling a little excitement at the prospect.
“Yes, but I don’t think you deserve it. Why would you let this fuck into your house? You said you were done with him.” She stares daggers into Aiden.
“I’m here to protect her from syphilis-infested crotch pheasants. Oh look, first one of the day.” Aiden motions for her to leave.
“Oh my God, would you two stop.” My head is pounding; the last thing I need is these two going at it. I take one of the lattes from Trish. “I’ve been a little occupied; you know, murder and shit.”
Aiden picks up a magazine off the coffee table, heading for the restroom. “I’ll be in the oval office. I have to take a ‘Trish.’ Back in ten.”
“Shut the fuck up, Aiden.” She turns to me, pleading. “Shay, seriously?”
I shrug and let the coffee do its work. It’s only good because it’s right here, now. I drink it down even though it’s some non-fat triple soy vegan latte that would do more good
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