The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,115
and mouth. “I’m sorry.”
I waved him off. “You owe me. Get dressed so we can go on a run.”
He wrinkled his nose. “You want to go out to eat instead?”
“No.” I smiled at him brightly. “Get dressed and let’s go. You need to get out of the house, darlin’.”
“Van,” he nearly whined as I disappeared into my room and closed the door behind me.
Before doing anything else, I picked up my phone and sent Aiden a quick message.
Me: The Angel of Shit paid a visit. Just warning you.
I’d taken off my clothes when my phone beeped with a message.
Aiden: Trevor?
Me: Yes If he shows up again, you might have to bail me out of jail, was the last thing we messaged each other before I left.
* * *
The following afternoon, I heard the footsteps bounding up the steps before Zac burst into my room, his socks skidding across the floor. “Trevor’s here,” he hissed with raised, expectant eyebrows.
“Did you let him in?”
He shot me a look. “No, I don’t want to see him. I heard someone park and checked the window. I told Aiden he was here before I came up.”
“Huh.” Thank God for small miracles. It was a Tuesday, which meant Aiden had the day off since he’d just played a game in San Francisco. I narrowed my eyes at him and he squinted his right back before I raised a shoulder and cocked my head to the side. “So are we eavesdropping or what?”
“Duh.” The man who hadn’t smiled enough in recent days finally graced me with one. During our seven-mile jog yesterday, he’d frowned and pouted throughout the entire thing, probably cussing me out in his head. So I was glad we were back to being on speaking terms.
The sound of the front door opening and closing had me inching toward the doorway of my room. I’d stayed up the night before worrying about whether Trevor would dare come up the stairs to find that, while I was technically married to Aiden, we weren’t exactly married-married. Obviously, it was a big flaw in our charade. It had only been the knowledge that Leslie was a gentleman and would never snoop or wander around upstairs that had worked in our favor. Otherwise, that would have been an awkward explanation.
Then I realized how dumb of a worry Trevor coming to the second floor was. Of course he wouldn’t. Aiden wouldn’t let him get anywhere near the stairs to begin with.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t curious as hell about what they were going to talk about.
And that was the excuse I was sticking to as Zac and I crept out of my room, and then crawled toward the top landing of the stairs, plopping on our butts, one ear aimed toward the stairs. I’d bet my savings account that Aiden wouldn’t invite Trevor into his sanctuary—the kitchen and nook. I wasn’t at all disappointed when their voices ended up in the living room, where I could hear their conversation almost clearly. I didn’t bother reliving the last time I’d eavesdropped from this exact spot.
“What the hell, Aid? I’ve tried calling you a dozen times,” Trevor’s slightly higher tone started.
What did our household smart-ass respond with? “I know. I have caller ID.”
Oh hell, it almost made me crack up when he talked to other people like that. Okay, really, it was me just getting a kick out of him talking to Trevor that way. I really didn’t like that guy.
Silence. Then Aiden’s low voice. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you and Zac since neither one of you will get back to me.”
“We talked a week ago. What else is there for us to talk about?”
“Telling me ‘Yes, I got married’ and ‘I’ll make sure she goes to games,’ then hanging up on me isn’t considered us talking, Aiden. Jesus Christ. How could you not tell me beforehand?”
“It isn’t your business.”
“Everything about you is my business. You married your fucking assistant, man. I found out about it when the team’s PR called me, asking me about a marriage certificate.” Trevor was shouting.
“I married someone who I’ve known for two years and who no longer works for me. She’s over age and so am I. I didn’t get caught with drugs. I didn’t get arrested at a strip club. I didn’t get into a fight. Don’t treat me like a child, Trevor. I don’t like it.”