“It’s good to see you,” he says. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. I changed out of my work clothes, but decided not to dress up or dress sexy. I put on a light blue sweater and jeans, with wedge-heel sandals. Aidan is dressed casually—for him, anyway. He could have gone to work in the shirt and slacks he’s wearing.
He goes back into the kitchen and pours me a glass of wine.
“Thanks,” I say when he hands it to me.
“Dinner will be a few more minutes,” he says. “I can get out some cheese if you’d like.”
“No, thanks.” I hold up my glass. “I’m good with wine for now.”
He smiles as he stirs something on the stove. “Great. Make yourself at home.”
I wander out to his living room. He has music playing in the background—some sort of soft jazz that sounds like elevator music. He doesn’t have any personal photos displayed, just a few pieces of art on the walls. Landscapes. Boring ones.
God, Selene, quit judging him.
I take a seat on his dark gray couch and set my purse next to me.
“How are things at work?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say. “Just busy, mostly.”
“Is everyone adjusting to the new boss?”
I think about Ronan and my heart skips a little. “Yeah, everyone seems to be.”
“That’s good,” he says. “Any luck on the job search?”
I take a sip of wine. When I heard the company had been sold, my first thought was to get my resume out there. But I haven’t even updated it yet. “Not really. I haven’t been looking that hard.”
“You should, don’t you think?” he asks. “At least see what opportunities are out there.”
His comment shouldn’t irk me. I’m the one who said I was going to look for a new job. But I find myself biting back a sharp reply.
“Yeah, I will. I’ve just been busy.” I take another drink.
A timer dings.
“I think everything is just about ready,” he says. “Go ahead and have a seat at the table and I’ll bring it out.”
I sit at the round glass table, and he brings out two plates of chicken Parmesan. It does smell good. He sits down and offers me more wine, but I decline. My glass is still partially full, and I don’t want to drink much tonight.
We chat while we eat. He tells me a little about his day. He always talks about work. I wonder if he has any actual hobbies. There’s nothing in his condo that would indicate he does anything other than go to work and take me out to eat once in a while. No photos on the wall, or coffee table books that might show his interests. He has a thing for bad music, I know that much. At least he can cook, I suppose.
“Thank you,” I say when I finish. “This was really good. You’re a great cook.”
He smiles. “Thanks. I don’t do enough of it, to be honest.” He picks up his wine and takes a sip, his eyes never leaving mine.
He wants to have sex. I can see it. He’s looking at me differently. His posture is relaxed, one elbow resting on the table, but there’s tension in his face. He’s thinking about it right now, wondering how he’s going to bring it up. I see confidence in his eyes. He’s sure I’m going to say yes.
I sip my wine, and look down at my plate. I don’t want to sleep with him. For so long, I’ve been telling myself that I need to give Aidan a chance, that maybe if we take our relationship up a notch or three physically, I’ll feel more of a connection to him. But sitting here with him now, I know I won’t. I’ve tried to give Aidan a fair shot—he’s supposed to be the nice guy I need—but this relationship isn’t going anywhere.
I don’t want to think about the fact that this means Ronan was right.
“Dessert?” he asks.
I never have dessert with him. It isn’t that I don’t like dessert. I love sweet things. But by the time we finish dinner, I’m always ready to go. I feel the same way now—like I need an excuse to leave.
I open my mouth to reply, when my phone dings.
“I’m sorry.” My purse is still next to the couch, so I get up. “I thought I turned the sound off. Let me just check my messages really quick.”
“Of course,” he says.
I sit down on the edge of the couch and pull out my phone. I have a text from Ronan. Need an excuse to get out of your date yet?
I have to stop myself from smiling. I should be annoyed, but fuck if his timing isn’t perfect.
“Sorry, Aidan,” I say. “I just need to answer this really quick.”
My date is going fine, thank you very much. We had a lovely dinner.
“No problem,” Aidan says. “I’ll just clean this up.” He takes our plates to the kitchen and turns on the sink.
Bullshit. You’re a caged animal, trying to find a way to open the locked door.
Just as I start to type, he sends another text.
I have the key.
I stifle a laugh and glance up at Aidan. He’s doing the dishes.
Hardly. I can leave anytime I want.
His response is quick. Good. Meet me at that wine bar by the office in fifteen minutes.
No dating, Ronan.