Chapter Thirteen

“Uh-huh. And it has a bell on it.”

Finn grunted and pressed his face against the back of Aiden’s neck. The movement was enough to wake him if the intruding voice hadn’t just done that.

“Oh. I don’t know. Should I ask?”

“Who’re you talking to, sweetheart?” Finn asked, rolling away from Aiden and scrubbing a hand across his face. Aiden wasn’t sure if he should pretend he was invisible, submerge himself in blankets, and hold his breath until Millie vacated the room. But Finn wasn’t shoving him under the bed or sounding in any way panicked, so Aiden remained motionless.

“Aiden’s friend on the phone,” Millie replied, hopping up on the edge of the bed, phone held to her pajama top. “They want to know how long you’ll be here.”

“Who…” Aiden sat up, brain instantly coming online. “Is that my phone?”

“Yeah. Your friend said my bike sounds cool.”

“What did we say about answering phones that aren’t yours, sweetheart?” Finn said, throwing an apologetic glance toward Aiden.

The fact that this wasn’t a first-time offense somehow didn’t shock Aiden.

“Can you give Aiden his phone back?”

“I have to say goodbye first. It’s polite.” With that, Millie pressed the phone back to her ear. “I have to go now. I can give you to Aiden. Yep. Okay. Bye!”

If it weren’t for the circumstance of this particular situation (Millie was talking to someone Aiden knew, and that could very easily be his boss or one of his friends or…) he would have thought her phone manner was adorable.

“Here you go.” Millie gave the phone to Aiden, who hesitantly took it and raised it to his ear.

“Hello, Mam.”

A soft laugh, as light as a tea bell, froze Aiden to the spot.

“It’s so good to hear your voice.”

At that moment, Aiden only had one choice.

(Two, really, but he wasn’t in the frame of mind to acknowledge the possibility of actually replying.)

He threw the phone out the window.

Chest heaving, cheeks hot, and mind whirring, Aiden met the bewildered gazes of Finn and Millie. Which, really, he couldn’t blame them for. He’d just tossed his phone out the window like a detonated bomb. And he hadn’t hung up first—Dan’s garbled voice was barely audible from outside.

“Friday.” Aiden smacked his hands down on his blanket-covered legs. “You have school, right?”

Millie slowly nodded, eyes on Finn the entire time, like she wasn’t sure if they should acknowledge the phone.

“I make really mean pancakes. Have you got the ingredients?”

The question was directed to Finn, who hesitantly bobbed his head, a world of questions swimming in those light eyes.

“Great.” Aiden bundled one of the blankets around his waist, skirting over the side of the bed and gathering his discarded clothes in his wake. “You two get ready. I’ve got this covered.”

“Aiden, are you—”

“Blueberries! You’ve got those, right?”

Aiden didn’t slow down as he ambled to the bathroom, blanket dragging along the floor behind. But Aiden didn’t care one bit. What he needed was a quick shower, a couple of minutes to collect his (nonexistent) thoughts, and to make this family some damn pancakes.

Curls still damp from the shower, dressed in his (ridiculous) shorts from the day before and a fresh shirt he’d borrowed from Finn, Aiden headed to the kitchen to start raiding the cabinets. Coming up short on blueberries, Aiden located the only alternatives available: bananas and chocolate chips.

Until he realized that maybe feeding a kid chocolate before school wasn’t the best move and held off for the moment.

“Hey,” Aiden said as Finn entered the room, jumping on the opportunity to steer the conversation. “Can Millie have chocolate chips?”

“Chocolate can make her a bit energetic after a few hours.” Finn pulled out some ingredients from the fridge. Then, flashing a roguish grin, Finn concluded, “But her mum’s picking her up today, so go for it.”

And if Aiden went a bit over the top with the chips, at least he knew Finn wasn’t going to rat him out.

“Oh, by the way.” Finn slipped his hand into his back pocket, holding Aiden’s phone out to him. “Screen’s a bit scratched, but it’s all right.”

Aiden didn’t take the phone—not immediately. Instead, his lips parted with an unspoken question that Finn somehow still heard.

“I hung up.”

A wave of relief as comforting as a freshly made bed, or the warm embrace of a fluffy dog, crashed over Aiden. His shoulders slumped, and a low breath escaped his lips.

“Did you—”

“Didn’t say a word to him,” he assured, holding Aiden’s gaze. He waited until Aiden finally took the phone, then started chopping carrots into bite-sized pieces. “Didn’t hear a word, either. Speaks fucking fast.”

“Yeah.” Aiden snorted, turning his back to Finn in favor of flipping a pancake that promptly fell to pieces. “He does.”

Finn winced. “Oof.”

“First one is always a mess.” Aiden shrugged, standing by that belief until he died.

“If that makes you feel better.”

A week ago, maybe Aiden might have taken that as a smarmy remark. But he knew better now, could at least identify the teasing tone to Finn’s voice and that all-too-telling twinkle in his eye. All remnants of the man who was nervous around Aiden were gone, replaced by the cocky man he’d first met.

The main change was that Aiden liked that now.

And, man, wasn’t that the kicker?

“I have work later,” Finn said, placing an orange lunchbox on the counter. “I—”

“You don’t have to make an excuse to get me to leave,” Aiden said, careful to keep his tone upbeat.

Aiden might like Finn, and Finn might be interested in fucking him. But Aiden wasn’t going to assume anything else. Hell, making breakfast for his daughter was probably a big no-no.

“If you’d let me finish.” Finn sighed, catching Aiden’s eye with a stern look. “It’s in Mooloolaba, north of here. You could come with, see what else the coast has to offer.”

“Come with?” Aiden frowned, regarding him curiously. “You mean scuba diving?”

They’d talked about Aiden’s whole…no-go thing with water, right? Then again, it was a far bigger deal to Aiden. He couldn’t expect Finn to remember that.

“It’s a beginners lesson,” Finn said, rinsing off an apple. “We’ll be keeping to the shore, wade our way in from the beach.”

“You are not getting me into the water.”

“Christ, would you stop interrupting me?” Finn let out an incredulous laugh. Aiden zipped his lips, tossing the metaphorical key over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He went back to washing the apple. “You don’t have to join the lesson. It’s a real seaside resort, plenty of walks and shops. I’ll take you to dinner afterward.”

Aiden flipped his next (perfect) pancake in silence.

“Are you asking me out?”

“You’re making it difficult to.”

Aiden refused to turn around. He needed a moment to filter through his jumbled thoughts. If Aiden was going to be responsible, like he was known to be, he would say no. Politely but pointedly. Thank Finn for the sex and promptly vacate the premises with as much speed as his shaky legs could manage.

“Unless I’ve misread this whole thing and I’m making an absolute ass of myself,” Finn said hurriedly, the unsure energy from the night before returning.

Adding more batter to the frying pan, Aiden shrugged. “You didn’t misread anything.”

What the fuck was he saying? Aiden wasn’t going to be here forever. He had a return flight booked that was steadily approaching. His old life was waiting for him.

“No?”

Finn sounded hopeful.

He knew that Aiden was leaving. Aiden had mentioned this being a holiday; Finn was more than aware of his short-term rental with Ryan. And yet Finn was still asking him out. For what? Aiden wasn’t sure, but he could take an educated guess. Finn was a single dad, busy by the looks of it, with two well-meaning friends who undoubtedly had tried to play cupid with him before. If he hit it off with a tourist, had some no-strings-attached fun, and got his friends off his back—Aiden couldn’t see a reason why Finn wouldn’t go for it.

So why shouldn’t Aiden?

Secure in his theory, Aiden finally turned around. Finn was trying not to stare. Aiden knew that move very well; he’d done it with Finn a number of times.

“As long as you can promise a nice dinner.”

“As long as you don’t order the shitty option,” Finn countered, a bright smile on his face, which he covered with his hand the moment Millie unhappily ambled into the room.

Millie wrinkled her nose, spotting the offending fruit on the countertop. “Banana?”

“And chocolate,” Finn said.

“For breakfast?” Even Millie sounded dubious.

“Yep.” Aiden plated up two golden pancakes that were beautiful enough to write sonnets about and held it out to Millie. “Special occasion calls for it.”

“It is?” Millie asked, dubious.

“It is?” Finn echoed.

“It’s a Friday.”

At Millie’s unimpressed stare, her mouth already smeared with melted chips, Aiden smacked his hands flat down on the countertop. “No one told you? Oh my god.”

“Told me what?” Millie jostled in her seat, and when Aiden didn’t answer fast enough, she said it again.

“Fridays are magic.” Aiden placed down the spatula, hand on his hip and expression entirely sincere. “Can’t believe you didn’t know that. Finn, c’mon. You knew, right?”

“Right,” Finn said, nabbing a chocolate chip straight from the batter. Gross. “I wasn’t sure if Millie was old enough.”

“I’m old enough.”

“Okay.” Aiden passed another full plate to Finn, whose eyes lit up upon receipt. “If you’re sure you are.”

“I am.”

“Okay, okay.” Aiden flipped another pancake. Score. “If you celebrate it right—”

“How do you do that?”

“Pancakes are a good start,” Finn said through a stuffed mouthful.

“Or just something fun. Something different from every other day of the week. Then you’ll have good luck for the next week.”

“That’s it?”

Finn snorted, barely disguising it with a cough.

Clearly hard to impress. Aiden had to up his game.

“Well, it’s magic. Hard to explain. Trust me, where I’m from, we know a little something about magic.”

“That should be on a shirt,” Finn said.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Millie said with narrowed, judgmental eyes that she undoubtedly got from Finn.

“You don’t have to believe me.” Aiden smiled, finishing off with his final flip. “Keep an eye out, and if something lucky happens, you know that it’s real.”

“Shit.” Finn shoveled his last forkful into his mouth, phone in hand, checking the time. “We’ll be lucky if we get you to school on time. You finish up. I’ll grab your bag.”

“Do you need help?” Aiden asked, looking on with concern as Finn skidded out of the room, throwing a panicked “No” over his shoulder.

“He always does this,” sighed Millie as she took her sweet time with the final pancake.

“Not great with time?” Aiden sat down beside her, tucking one leg under the other.

“Your friend said he missed you.” Millie changed the subject with the same lack of tact or care that most children possessed. Aiden oddly envied that ability. “Why didn’t you talk to him?”

Aiden shrugged, on the spot and not expecting to be interrogated by an eight-year-old about the intricacies of his past relationship. “We had a fight.”

Simple, to the point. Not exactly a lie. Or, it wouldn’t have been if Aiden had actually stuck around long enough for an argument to start.

“About what?”

Aiden scratched the side of his chin. There was no PG-ifying what happened, so he said, “He broke something of mine.”

Heart, trust, happiness. It was all up for debate.

“Maybe he was calling to apologize.” Millie’s voice was soft, wise, and childish all at the same time.

“Maybe.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

The question felt like it came out of left field, but it made sense how she came to that conclusion. And Aiden couldn’t find one single reason to lie to her about it.

“He was. Not anymore, though.”

“Because he broke something of yours. Was it your TV? Uncle Ryan broke Dad’s TV while playing the Wii one time, and Dad didn’t speak to him for a week. Or when Dad watered my cactus and it died.”

“I…” Aiden, once again, was at a loss for words around this kid. But there was something he could grasp there, a change of topic. “Was it gardening that your dad said you liked yesterday?”

Aiden knew that this could backfire. That this could be too much for Millie. Aiden was in that zone of “okay, I’ll tolerate you for the moment.” Millie might want to keep him right there, and butting into her interests went directly against that.

Pulling the last of her pancake apart by hand, Millie pressed her lips together in thought, clearly weighing up the pros and cons of his question. Then, eventually, “Do you want to see my garden?”

“Yeah. I’d love that.”

Quickly hopping down from her seat, Millie led him out the back door and toward an overgrown garden that she regarded with pride.

In the space of seven minutes, Aiden learned that the foliage was less overgrown and more well taken care of, with no plans to give it any form of structure.

“See,” Millie had said, pointing to two plants intertwined, “the oleander and kangaroo paw want to be friends.”

Just as Millie began to show him the right way to water them, Finn skidded out to the garden, red faced and winded, with Millie’s bag on his shoulder and his shoes on the wrong feet. “Ready to bail?”

“Dad, your shoes aren’t tied.”

“I’ll be fine.” Finn waved her off. He nodded toward Aiden. “I’m giving Aiden a lift up to Mooloolaba, thought we could show off your school on the way?”

“I’d love to see it,” added Aiden, hands clasped behind his back. “If you’d like.”

“Sure,” Millie replied with an unbothered shrug. “It’s just school.”

“C’mon.” Aiden bumped his shoulder lightly against Millie’s. “It’ll be fun.”

It wasn’t fun.

It was chaotic.

Finn’s driving, to date, had been safe and well within the realms of the law. But apparently when in the face of being late for school, his caution flew out the window.

“You never told me you were a road racer,” Aiden said from the back, hand braced against the ceiling.

“In special circumstances,” Finn replied through clenched teeth. “We’ll make it.”

“Dad, I forgot my project.”