could take up so much space. I was the only child of a mother who had been a single parent; the Sinclair family was so different from my own.
I’d been an only child, a lonely kid.
Even now, my daughter was really all I had.
How could a family this size not take up a lot of room? Jade had four brothers and a twin sister. Her half-siblings, cousins, and a bunch of other family hadn’t even shown up yet from the East Coast, and the large dining room was full.
I started making my way slowly down the table reluctantly after I shot a fake smile at Jade. I didn’t want her to know that sitting next to Aiden would be torture for me.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said in a voice loud enough to carry to my best friend. “I got hung up at the restaurant.”
When wasn’t I delayed by work at the Weston Café? I’d put every available moment and penny into getting the little diner I’d inherited from my deceased mother to turn a profit.
The only thing more important than work was my daughter, Maya.
I finally sat my ass down and smiled at Seth, another one of Jade’s older brothers, who was sitting on my left.
I completely avoided looking to my right, since I was determined to ignore Aiden.
“How are you doing, Skye?” Seth queried politely.
“I’m good,” I lied.
I’d be doing a lot better if I wasn’t forced into sitting next to Aiden.
I hated myself for the fact that I could feel Aiden’s presence, and that just a whiff of his masculine scent made my body suddenly come alive after a very long absence of experiencing any kind of desire.
I can’t show any reaction. I can’t.
I momentarily contemplated asking Seth if he wanted to change seats, but I knew it would look childish. The last thing I wanted was for Aiden to know that he bothered me at all.
It was exactly two weeks until Jade and Eli’s wedding, and it wouldn’t be the only time Aiden and I would have to be in close proximity to each other. But it was only fourteen days. For the most part, I’d managed to stay out of his company since I’d returned to Citrus Beach almost a year ago . . . until today.
“You look exhausted,” Aiden commented gruffly. “But you smell like fresh lemon. How does that happen?”
I chastised myself silently for the shiver that slithered down my spine from hearing the sound of Aiden’s sexy baritone. Grudgingly, I turned my head toward him. “Lemon supreme pie was the special today,” I snapped.
It was embarrassing that I hadn’t had time to go home and wash the smell of citrus fruit from my skin, and change out of the jeans and T-shirt I’d worked in all day. But I’d already been late getting here.
“It wasn’t a criticism,” he answered huskily. “You smell good. Lemon pie is my favorite.”
“I know,” I said automatically, and then wanted to kick myself for remembering.
My brief relationship with Aiden had ended almost a decade ago. Shouldn’t I have forgotten all that minor stuff?
“Someday, you’re going to have to explain why you hate me so much,” Aiden said in a low voice as he leaned in close to my ear.
I looked around the table. There were so many conversations happening, and being at a table composed mostly of Sinclairs was deafening. Nobody was paying the least bit of attention to us.
Honestly, I had plenty of reasons to hate Aiden. “You know exactly why,” I said sharply back at him. “Let’s not go there right now, okay?”
I had to get a grip. I needed to retain control. I could not let Aiden Sinclair shake the facade of coolness that I’d worked so hard to acquire.
“I need to go there,” he argued in an infuriatingly calm tone. “It’s been over nine years, Skye. We had a great summer fling. Yeah, it didn’t end well. But it’s been over for a long time.”
Dishes filled with food were being passed around the table, but I handed most of them on without taking much on my plate. I was nauseated just because I was in such close proximity to Aiden. He made me nervous. But I was actually forced to talk to him to avoid being noticeably rude.
I refuse to disappoint Jade. I can’t.
We were getting close to the day of my best friend’s wedding. Jade was so happy. I could suffer through whatever I had to endure to not make a scene.
I’d been