beside a pile of gifts.
At first, I’m confused.
Then I remember what he said when he woke me up.
My eyes widen and meet his. “Are those for me?”
He glances down at them and shrugs. “Yeah. I know it’s too many, but they weren’t all supposed to be Christmas gifts.” He retrieves the one that’s on top. “This one I got in Paris on my first assignment. I was planning on giving it to you the next time I saw you, but…”
But then everything happened.
I take the present from him and aim a teasing smile his way. “Well technically you did give it to me the next time you saw me.”
He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head.
I focus down on the wrapping paper. It’s dark navy and wrinkled as hell. A corner is already torn so I start there, tugging back the paper to reveal a small watercolor painting. I recognize the aerial view of Paris right away even though the brushstrokes are loose and impressionistic.
“I saw an artist on the street, creating these,” Aiden tells me as I continue to look at the painting.
“It was only my third day there and I was so homesick I couldn’t stand it. I was eating lunch outside, trying to find a bench available along the Seine, and I found one eventually, right behind this artist and his easel. He worked the whole time I ate and it made me feel…I guess it made me feel less alone.”
“So you bought a painting from him.”
“For you. After all, you were the reason I was so sad.”
I glance up at him in surprise.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. Of course, you, Maddie. I left for Paris after that phone call we had while I was at the airport and it felt like the world’s hardest breakup, like you and I were done before we even got started.”
I remember feeling the same way. Even now, I don’t have to dig deep to reach the well of emotions. They’re still right there, under the surface.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him, feeling slightly embarrassed at how choked up I sound.
“Maddie.”
“Hmm?”
“Can you look at me for a second?”
Do I really have to?
I glance up and nearly have to squint to keep myself from toppling off the bed. It never gets easier—looking right at him, trying to shield the love in my eyes. It probably pours out of me in other ways, cloying the air around us. He knows. He has to know.
“I leave to go back to New York tomorrow.”
Those have to be the most painful words in the English language. There is no truth to the childhood rhyme about sticks and stones breaking bones and words never hurting. Words hurt the most. I would take a good stoning over the declaration that Aiden is leaving me again. Again. Again. Here we are again.
I suddenly need air, mouthfuls of it. I need out of this room before all the love I’ve bottled up comes bursting out of me in a primal wail.
I’m up and moving, aware a second too late that I’m still naked from last night. I yank the sheet off the bed, trying to wrap it around myself, but those people in movies must be better at this than I am, because it just gets tangled and my boobs are still out there for the world to see.
I curse under my breath and yank the sheet again, trying to dislodge it from the mattress once and for all.
I’m aware of Aiden repeating my name, trying to get through to me, but I’m on a mission.
His hand touches my arm and I jump away from him, holding up my palm as if to say, Don’t come any closer, buddy.
“Can you stop for one second? I want you to come with me to New York. I want us to be together.”
“What?”
“Don’t act so surprised. Of course I want us to be together. I want you to be my girlfriend. My partner, Maddie. Come to New York with me.”
Right then, a fist knocks softly on the door. “Aiden? Are you awake? I think we should talk.”
It’s James.
“Not a good time!” Aiden shouts back.
The doorknob starts to turn and I scream, scrambling with the sheet tangled around my legs so I can make it to the bathroom before James fully opens the door.
Aiden’s faster than I am, though. He makes it to the door in time to slam it closed before James sees anything.
“Not now, you idiot!”
“You behaved like a lunatic last night! We need to