“Uncle Aidan loves his music.”
My head spun as I looked at Aidan like I’d never seen him before. “You worked with David Bowie?”
He grinned at my awe. “No. I’ve had the pleasure of his company a few times. I met him through his producer. I was a little younger than you, just starting out.”
The knowledge that Aidan spent time in the company of not just famous people, but FAMOUS people suddenly sank in. I went from being overwhelmed by the guy to completely intimidated. In my head, I’d known since the moment Sylvie started talking about him that her uncle was older, experienced, worldly. And even back then, over a year ago when we first met, I knew he’d reeked of class and money.
But it was more than that.
He was smart and driven and the most successful individual I’d ever met in real life. He’d gone from this amazing life with these apparently gorgeous women and an astounding career, to changing it so he could look after his dying sister and then look after her kid. He hadn’t run from that. This man had made a choice and was sticking with it.
And I was dressing up as Peter Pan to entertain kids and bury myself in fantasy so I didn’t have to face reality.
I pushed back my chair and the feet squealed against the linoleum. “I just remembered I have somewhere to be. I’m so sorry.”
“You haven’t finished your lunch,” Sylvie said, disappointment ringing in her words.
Even though her sad face pained me, I gave her a small smile as I stood. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I have to go. Thanks for hanging out with me again.”
She immediately got out of her chair and threw her arms around my waist. A lump formed in my throat as I hugged her back. For some reason, guilt welled inside me and my eyes unwillingly flew to Aidan.
His expression was grim.
“Thanks for lunch,” I said politely.
He barely nodded as Sylvie finally let me go.
I brushed her cheek with the back of my hand, my tenderness for her only increasing by the minute. “I hope I see you again, Sylvie.”
She nodded vigorously. “Definitely.”
With another affectionate smile her way, and total avoidance of her uncle’s gaze, I left.
I needed to.
He made me feel small, and I didn’t mean physically. Before meeting him, I was okay with my life choices. And you know what? I was only twenty-two years old! Maybe when I was his age, I’d be worldly and sophisticated too.
For now, however, I wasn’t. The two of us couldn’t be more different and even if I wanted to let my guard down with him, he’d never understand. So it was up to him. He could let Sylvie come back, or he could decide not to. But I was done being grilled and made to feel insignificant under his intense scrutiny.
I’d like to say Sylvie and Aidan weren’t on my mind for the rest of the week but they were. It had been a long time since anyone had judged me. That I knew of. Not since Indiana.
Jim’s family and friends had accepted me, and even when they were frustrated with my choices, I never felt like they were appraising me. They were simply concerned.
I felt under a microscope with Aidan.
And it pissed me off!
It lit a fire in me that I wasn’t expecting. I couldn’t get his cocky, knowing, judgy little smirk out of my mind.
But with it came more guilt because, as angry as Aidan made me feel, as little as his larger-than-life presence made me feel, there was also attraction there. There had been from the moment I’d met him. Before Jim was gone. The kind of attraction I’d never felt for my own husband.
I hated myself for that.
Sylvie wasn’t a part of those feelings, however. She was something else. For Sylvie I still worried, and even though it would bring Aidan inevitably back into my life, I didn’t want to say goodbye to the kid. I wanted to see her safe and happy and back at school with friends. I wanted to know that she was going to be all right.
That was why then when I walked into the hospital the following week, I was relieved to see Sylvie—but anxious as well because she was accompanied by Aidan. They were standing at the nurses’ station, Sylvie with a book in one hand while gripping Aidan’s hand with the other. Jan was nowhere in sight, which would account for the young nurse who was leaning across the desk, smiling dreamily up at Aidan while he talked.
I guessed it was hard for her not to.
He wore black jeans, black boots, and a plain black crew-neck T-shirt that was loose at his waist but tight on the biceps. Because they were impressive biceps. I swallowed hard as my steps slowed. How could he make something as simple as jeans and a T-shirt seem expensive?
He looked like a bodyguard on casual Friday.
A bodyguard protectively holding the hand of his little girl.
Heterosexual women who met him were screwed.
Or wishing they would be soon.
I rolled my eyes at the thought, shaking myself out of the Aidan-induced stupor.
It had taken me twenty-two years, but I finally had my first real crush. Oh God. Worst someone ever!
Sylvie glanced up from her book and did a double take. “Nora!” she cried happily and let go of Aidan’s hand, hurrying toward me. She grinned, holding up the book. It was Coraline by Neil Gaiman. I’d told her a few weeks ago that I’d read it around her age and loved it.
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Yeah,” she said, like it was obvious. “Will you read it to the kids?”
I loved how she continued to not include herself in the category of “the kids.”
“I thought today we’d actually start with Harry Potter, if that’s cool with you?”
“Ooh, I love Harry Potter.”
“Is there a muggle alive who doesn’t?” My focus was drawn from her face upwards as I felt Aidan approach.
He gave me a nod. “Nora.”
Goosebumps prickled along the back of my neck at the sound of my name on his lips. Feeling ridiculous about the reaction, I tried to prove to myself I could handle this guy. “Aren’t you a little old for storytelling?”
Sylvie giggled while Aidan gave me a droll look. “Attacking my age. How unoriginal of you, Peter Pan.”
“Oh, I wasn’t attacking your age,” I said, walking around him, “I was attacking your maturity level. But hey, who am I to judge? You want to listen to a little Harry Potter, that’s okay with me.”
“I’ll have you know, Harry Potter appeals to a very broad age range.”
Somehow, I doubted he was among them. “That’s true.” I pressed a hand to the common room door, stopping before I entered to look over my shoulder at Aidan. “But I’d be surprised if it appealed to a man like you.”
He stunned me by leaning into me to put his hand above mine on the door. I sucked in a breath at his nearness, his chest so close to my face, I’d only have to move an inch and my lips would meet his T-shirt. His heat and scent overwhelmed me, and my gaze stuttered on its way up to his face.
Smirking smugly down at me, as if he knew how he affected me, he murmured just loud enough for me to hear, “You don’t know what appeals to a man like me, Pixie.” He pushed the door open before I could respond; I stumbled into the common room like a klutz.
I knew my cheeks were an embarrassing shade of pink.
Thankfully, the kids’ warm welcome meant I didn’t have to look at Aidan again. As we settled in, and I opened Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, I was more than aware of Aidan standing at the wall by the door, his arms crossed over his broad chest making his muscular arms bulge. I was betting that was deliberate.
Exasperating, distracting man.
However, I understood he was here for a reason. Sylvie wanted to see me and hear me tell stories, and he wanted to make her happy. But he didn’t trust me. I guess he had no reason to—he didn’t know me. Could I fault him for that? Not at all. And if he was going to continue to be around, I was going to continue to crush the insecurities that arose around him and pretend I didn’t feel like an unsophisticated country bumpkin.
When the reading was over for the day and I’d chatted a little with the kids, Aidan approached me while Sylvie talked with Poppy. I braced myself for whatever would come out of his mouth next.
And I hated the way I had to crane my neck to look up at him. Jim had been tall but this guy was like a goddamn rugby player.