The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,37
the same things, and based on the last two weeks of our work relationship, we didn’t get along.
And why the hell was I even thinking about reasons why this was a bad idea? It was a terrible one point blank. One I wasn’t going to go through with. No way, no how.
Aiden, on the other hand, wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t have to say a word for me to know he was ignoring everything coming out of my mouth.
“Aiden, listen to me”—for the second time in your life, I added in my head—“I’m sure Trevor can find you someone. Just ask.”
That comment had him snapping to attention. His thick, dark eyebrows straightened. “I’m not telling Trevor.”
I pushed at my glasses even though they were in place.
“Would you?” he questioned.
Yeah, that had me wincing. I wouldn’t trust Trevor to put something in the mail for me. “What about Rob?”
No response.
Huh. Touché. “Zac?”
Aiden simply shook his head in denial.
“Your friends?”
“I would have told them already if I wanted them to know,” he explained in a careful tone that made too much sense.
With that comment, a few things suddenly made sense. Of course he’d been serious about coming back from his injury. But on top of that, his extra terrible mood at the fear of being deported if he was let go by the organization added to that. Even more so, dealing with his manager and agent, who didn’t seem to be totally onboard with whatever it was Aiden wanted once his contract came to the end, only made matters worse. But there was one thing that didn’t really add up once I thought about it, and it wasn’t the reason why he didn’t want to go back to Canada or why he didn’t want to stay in Dallas.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked hesitantly.
Those brown irises settled on me, lines scorching his broad forehead.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I frowned in return. “You’ve never really told me anything before.” I blinked. “Ever. But now I quit, and you’re suddenly over at my apartment, asking me to come back to work for you when you hadn’t given a single crap that I was quitting, and you want me to marry you to get your papers fixed. You’re telling me things you don’t want to tell anyone else about and… it’s weird, man. I don’t know what the hell you expect me to tell you.”
“I’m telling you because…” He opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly. Opened it once more before closing it again, the muscles in his cheeks moving, as if he didn’t really know why he was doing so. Hell, I didn’t get it. Finally, Aiden shrugged those massive, rounded shoulders and made sure our gazes met. “I like you as much as I like anyone.”
Damn it.
God damn it.
Diana had told me once that I had no backbone. Actually, I’m pretty sure her exact words had been, “You’re a sucker, Van.”
I like you as much as I like anyone shouldn’t have been a compliment. It really shouldn’t have. I wasn’t that dumb. But…
A rough laugh tore its way out of me unexpectedly, and then I was snickering, raising my eyes to the popcorn ceiling.
Coming from someone like Aiden, I guess it was the biggest compliment I could ever get.
I like you as much as I like anyone. My word.
“Why is that funny?” Aiden asked, a frown curving his mouth.
I slapped a hand over my eyes and leaned forward over the kitchen countertop, giggling a little as I rubbed at my brow bone in resignation. “There’s a huge difference between me not irritating the hell out of you and us being friends, Aiden. You’ve made that perfectly clear, don’t you think?”
His blink was innocent, so earnest, I had no idea what to do with it. “I don’t mind you.”
I don’t mind you.
I started cracking up—really cracking up—and I was pretty sure it sounded like I was crying when I was really laughing.
“You’re the most even-tempered woman I’ve ever met.”
Even-tempered. He was killing me.
This was what my life had come to. Taking half-assed compliments from a man who only cared about one thing: himself. A man who I’d tried to make my friend over and over again to no avail.
To give him credit, he waited a bit before saying carefully, way too calmly, and almost gently, “This isn’t funny.”
I had to squat down behind the kitchen cabinets because my stomach was clenching so badly.