He really, really was.
Aiden shrugged, carelessly, like he usually did when someone mentioned his size. I thought people made him uncomfortable when they brought it up, but mostly because I’d heard him tell Leslie before that it wasn’t like he’d done something for it. His genes had given him his stature and the framework of his build; all he’d done was work out and eat well to develop what he’d been given. His lack of a reply wasn’t arrogance; I was pretty positive he just didn’t know what to say.
The poor guy continued gaping at him, completely unaware I existed, much less that behind us were at least four other people wondering what the hell was taking so long for us to order.
Aiden didn’t help the situation either by standing there, looking back at his fan with that unreadable, borderline bored expression on his face. “Could you get my girl a coffee?”
His girl?
It took every ounce of my self-control not to look up at him with an expression that said exactly what I was thinking: what the hell did you just call me?
Thankfully, I didn’t physically react. When the cashier finally snapped out of his trance, he glanced at me and blinked. I smiled at him even as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, ignoring the strange feeling coursing through my spine at the fake term of endearment that had just come out of Aiden’s mouth.
“Oh, sure. Sure. My bad. What can I get you?” the guy asked, blushing.
I placed my order, quickly looking down to make sure I was texting the right person, and typed out a quick message.
Your girl?
I sent the man next to me before handing over my card.
The guy cast another glance at Aiden while he swiped it hastily, nervously. I thanked him when he gave it back, but he was back to not paying any attention to me; he was still staring at Aiden, and on closer inspection, I realized the poor guy’s hands were shaking.
“Thanks,” I mumbled one more time as I took my cup and moved aside to put coffee and creamer in it. Aiden shifted over along with me, seeming to be in his own little world, oblivious to the text message I’d sent him, or maybe just deciding to ignore the phone I knew he usually kept on vibrate in his pocket. It was right then that I noticed the people in line behind us were all staring at him.
I couldn’t blame them. He didn’t exactly give off a welcoming vibe, standing there with his backpack on both shoulders, his arms crossed over his chest with my bag resting at his feet while he waited on me. Then I realized they were glancing at me too. Measuring me. Seeing who was with the guy the employee was freaking out about.
Just me.
* * *
The nerves and the urge to throw up didn’t go anywhere. I was nauseous the entire flight to Vegas. Aiden said maybe five words to me before he put his head against the window and fell asleep, which wasn’t a bad thing, considering I was stuck in my own world of denial and terror. I kept telling myself everything was fine, but it didn’t feel like it. If Aiden was battling any nerves or insecurity, he didn’t let it show as we walked out of the airport and caught a cab to our hotel off the Strip. We checked in and made our way up the elevator to the suite.
He swiped the card through the door and let me in first.
I had to let out a whistle as I took in the clean, contemporary furnishings. I’d forgotten how nice this hotel was and it made me feel a little guilty. When I was a kid, we hadn’t travelled much, mostly because my mom never had the money, much less the time or inclination, to take us anywhere. But on the rare occasion that Diana’s parents invited me to go along with them on a trip, we would stay at the really cheap motels on the side of the road that looked like something out of a horror movie, and we’d all crammed in to a room—or two, if her parents could swing it.
And I always had a good time, even more so if the motel had a pool.
Yet here I was at this five-star hotel, staying with a man who was a millionaire. I’d paid the rate for the room with his card. I was well aware of how much everything cost. I knew that no one in my family, with the exception of my little brother, would ever stay in a place like this. And it made me feel slightly uncomfortable. Guilty. A little sad.
“You all right?” that gruff, low voice asked from behind me when I’d stopped just though the door.
I had to clear my throat and force myself to give him a nod and a smile, which was about as insincere as you could get. “Sure.”
Yeah, he read it on my face easily, his eyes swinging around the room in confusion. “You chose the hotel.” His tone was slightly accusing. “You don’t like it?”
“No.” I shook my head, now feeling like a dick on top of everything else. “I mean, of course I like it. This is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed.” That was saying a lot, because when I travelled with Aiden, we always stayed somewhere nice. “I was just thinking about how fancy it is, and how I never would have imagined when I was a kid that I could stay somewhere like this. That’s all.”
The fact I was staying here with Aiden, to marry him, just sent that nail straight home into my heart. Younger Vanessa, pre-twenty-six-year-old Vanessa, had no idea what she had in store for her.
There was a pause, and I swore we both looked over our shoulders to glance at each other. The tension between us was awkward and uncertain. The Wall of Winnipeg blinked those big brown eyes. “You could have invited your family if you really wanted to.”
“Oh, uh, no. It’s all right.” In hindsight, I realized I’d shot down his offer too fast. “I only keep in contact with my little brother, and he’s already back in school.”
Why was he looking at me so strange?
“I don’t…” Good grief, why was this flustering me so much? And why couldn’t I just shut up? “I only talk to my mom every once in a while and never my sisters. And my best friend works a lot.” I wrung my hands and finished up the spiel of stupidity. “I don’t have anyone else.”
Aiden stared at me for so long, I frowned. “You’re acting weird,” he stated so casually I almost ignored the actual words that had come out of his mouth.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re being weird with me,” Aiden repeated himself.
That had me slamming my mouth closed and my frown growing.
The man who didn’t keep things to himself kept on barreling through what he apparently felt he needed to say. “I told you I was sorry.”
Uh.
“Look, everything is fine—” I started to say before he cut me off with a shake of his head.
“It isn’t. You don’t smile anymore. You haven’t called me big guy or given me hell,” he stated.
Wait a second. I hadn’t, had I? And he’d noticed? The possibility that he’d noticed made me feel strange, almost uncomfortable. “I thought I annoyed you,” I mumbled, trying to figure out what was the right response and whether he was saying these things because he genuinely missed them or not.
“You do.” And there we went. “But I’m used to it now.”
Wait another second….
“You’ve never made me feel awkward before, but you look at me differently now. Like you don’t know me, or you don’t like me.” The fact he leveled an even gaze at me, without shame, without embarrassment, without playing games, hit me right in the solar plexus. “I get it if you’re still pissed, if you don’t think of me the way you used to, but I liked the way we were before,” he went on. With his face open and completely earnest, he only slightly made me feel bad for how obvious I’d been with my frustrations with him, especially since he seemed to not just notice, but also missed the way things had been despite going out of his way to ignore me for so long.