The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,71
The second his gaze landed on me, I sensed it and waved.
His mouth went a little funny in a way that I recognized all too well.
What the hell was he mad about anyway?
“What are you doing?” he snapped the instant he was close enough to be heard.
I lifted my shoulders, shoving my glasses up the bridge of my nose in the process. “Walking around.”
“You could have woken me up to come with you,” he practically hissed, stopping a foot away from me.
First off, his attitude was getting on my nerves. Secondly, I wasn’t a fan of the tone of voice he was using. “Why would I wake you up?”
The few inches of his jaw that were visible were tight. “So I could come with you. Why else?”
He was giving me that look.
One, two, three, four, five.
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t know you’d want to come. I figured you would rather stay in the hotel room and rest.” After all, he’d been taking a nap when I looked for him.
The long line of his throat rippled. “I would’ve rather stayed in, but I also don’t need you getting kidnapped and being used as a drug mule.”
God help me. I looked around at the thousands of people making their way up and down along the Strip to make sure I wasn’t imagining them. “You really think someone’s going to kidnap me here? Really?”
Aiden’s nostrils flared. He stared down at me.
I stared back.
“You’re already giving me a headache and it’s been four hours.”
“I was trying to be nice and leave you alone, not give you a headache. Come on.” I huffed. “I’m just walking around. I have gone places without you.” A few. But not by myself. I wasn’t going to admit that out loud though, especially now when he was getting all bent out of shape for no reason.
He kept glaring at me, that look that got on my nerves taking over his features inch by inch. “That’s stupid. You’re—what? Five seven? Five eight? A hundred and forty pounds? You can’t walk around Las Vegas by yourself,” he stressed, his tone so tight I reeled back.
I blinked in confusion and surprise. “Aiden, it isn’t a big deal. I’m used to doing things by myself.”
The lids over those big, brown eyes lowered slowly, a deep breath blowing from pursed lips, as if we were the only people on the Strip when that absolutely wasn’t anywhere close to the truth. “Maybe you’re used to doing things by yourself, but don’t be an idiot.” He started off calmly, totally in control. “I didn’t know where you were. There’s crime here—don’t give me that face. I know there’s crime everywhere. We might not be doing this for the reasons most people do, but I made a vow, Van. And I promised you we would try to be friends. Friends don’t let friends wander around alone.” He pinned me with a glare. “You aren’t the only one who takes their promises seriously.”
Uh. What was happening?
Those dark eyes were the steadiest thing I’d ever seen as he said, “I can’t do this without you.”
Well, shit. I wasn’t sure I even knew how to talk after that.
Our marriage—vomit, hurl, and diarrhea—wasn’t real, but he had a point. We had made vows I couldn’t seem to remember because I hadn’t been listening. But the point was, we had made promises to each other even before that, and I didn’t ever want to be the type of person who backed out on their word.
“I won’t go anywhere until you’re a resident, big guy. I promise.”
His gaze swept over my face for the longest second of my life, and eventually, eventually, he cleared his throat. “What is it you want to do?” he grumbled suddenly, as if he hadn’t just said the most meaningful words I’d ever heard come out of his mouth.
To give him credit, he didn’t complain once after I told him the name of the production I wanted to go watch. But I was also clasping my hands together in front of my chest like I was a little kid begging for something. “It’s all I want to go see.”
And I was going to do it regardless of whether he tagged along or not, but he didn’t need to know that yet.
He simply looked back up at the non-existent Nevada stars and sighed. “Fine, but I need to get something to eat afterward.”
I might have bounced up to my toes. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Really-really?” I swear I might have been beaming.