The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,97
I stopped and turned around, raising my eyebrows at the figure standing at the bottom of the staircase with one palm on the handrail.
He had that dark gaze narrowed on me. “When you say you’re fine, I know you’re not.”
“Hmm,” was the only thing I could manage to get out without saying something really bitchy. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal he hadn’t gone with me; I’d told myself that at least a dozen times over the weekend. I also told myself I understood that he’d stayed to see someone he cared about, but it didn’t help, and it didn’t work.
My damn pride couldn’t handle being stood up and let down by not just him but by everyone this weekend.
“That’s what I thought,” Aiden stated as he tipped his chin up at me almost defiantly.
I squeezed my fingers around the handrail, envisioning it was his neck I was wringing. “Yeah, I guess so,” I admitted with a sniff. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to bed.”
I barely managed to turn around when Aiden’s raspy low voice spoke up. “I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it. I want to talk about it,” he said in that authoritative, demanding voice that scratched at my nerves. It wasn’t a loud voice by any measure, but it didn’t need to be.
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head as he continued his bullshit explanation, “Leslie called, said he was in San Antonio and asked if he could drop by for a few days. Coach wanted to go through some more footage before I left, and I lost track of time.” And he kept going. “I figured you of all people would understand. I don’t get what the big deal is.”
For one moment, I thought about picking up my suitcase and throwing it at him. Immature, sure. Unnecessary, yes. But it would have made me feel better. Instead, I counted to seven, and while looking at the stairs, I said to him, “I do understand, Aiden. I get it. Your job is the most important thing in your life and I’m fully aware of how much Leslie means to you. I know that, and I’ve always known that.”
“Yet you’re still mad.”
There wasn’t a point in even lying, was there? Setting my luggage on the stair ahead of me, I turned back around to face that dark head of hair and tanned face I’d seen more of when I worked for him than I did now that I lived with him. “I’m not mad, Aiden. I’m just… look, I’m in a terrible mood. Maybe now isn’t the time to talk, all right?”
“No.” His back straightened and he took his hand off the handrail. “I stayed to watch footage with the staff and see Les,” he stated, a furrow between his eyebrows.
“I understand why you stayed. I’m not telling you I don’t. I’m frustrated over this entire fucking useless weekend, and I don’t want to take it out on you.” That was a lie. I sort of did. “Can we please stop talking about this?”
I knew what his reply was going to be before it came out of his mouth: nope. He didn’t fail me. “I didn’t do anything for you to be mad over.”
Heaven help me. Heaven fucking help me. My fingers went up to press over the top of my eyebrows, as if that would keep my headache at bay. I hissed, “Aiden, just let it go.”
The man never let anything go? Why would this moment be any different? “No. I want to talk about it. I didn’t go with you to your mom’s house. I’ll go next time.”
The problem with some people was that they didn’t understand the principle of things. The other thing with people was that some guys didn’t understand when to let shit go, so they kept pushing and pushing and pushing until you just said “fuck it.” That was exactly what Aiden did to me then. The pain in my head got even worse. “I invited you so you could meet my mom and my foster parents. And stupid me, I got disappointed when you bailed on me at the last freaking moment.”
In hindsight, that sounded a lot more melodramatic than it needed to.
The fact that my mom had knowingly lied to me had been bad enough. Susie going into psycho mode had definitely made things worse. Diana’s lies only magnified every ruthless, hurt emotion in me, but I didn’t