Chapter 220
This time, he doesn’t follow. Doesn’t beg. Doesn’t throw one last line over his shoulder. He just stays there, shrinking into the background of my morning like stale perfume–cloying, sour, impossible to wash out fast enough.
By the time I slide into my chair, my phone buzzes. Aaron. Don’t forget. I’ll be waiting out front.
The smile that takes over my face feels like sunlight cracking through storm clouds. A whole new weather system.
Goodbye, Lyle. For real this time.
Work crawls by like it’s punishing me for daring to smile this morning. Numbers blur on my screen, emails stack up, and Debbie keeps shoving post–its on my desk with the kind of urgency only someone in middle management can muster.
Finally–finally–the clock drags its little hand over to quitting time. I shove my laptop into my bag like it personally offended me and make a beeline for the elevators, Debbie scurries up beside me, her scarf already tied like she’s late for a French film set.
“You’re practically glowing, Tess,” she says, squinting at me.
“Am not.” I jab the elevator button. “This is just my face.”
“Please. Last time I saw you look this happy, someone had just brought cake into the break room.”
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I shrug, tug my blazer tighter, and pretend not to hear her humming under her breath.
The doors slide open and the city greets us with its evening rush- honking horns, muflled conversations, the sweet relief of escape. I’m still laughing at one of Debbie’s rants about upper management when I see him.
Aaron.
Leaning against his car like he was carved there, hands in his pockets, hair a little messed up from the wind. He straightens when he spots me, and my stomach does this traitorous flip like I’m sixteen again.
“Ohhh,” Debbie whispers, elbowing me. “So that’s why you’ve been smiling at spreadsheets all day.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, but my ears are already hot.
She waves goodbye, muttering something about fairytales, and I’m left walking straight into Aaron’s orbit.
His gaze finds mine the second I step out into the evening air, like he hadn’t looked anywhere else since he got here.
“You’re early,” I say, fighting a smile.
“You’re late.” His voice is low, even, but it sends a ridiculous shiver down my spine.
“Excuse you,” I scoff, falling into step beside him as he opens the passenger door for me. “Some of us actually work for a living.”
A twitch of his lips–his version of a smile. I grin wide enough for both
of us
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Inside the car, I keep talking because silence with him feels too loaded, too electric. “So, a ballet recital, huh? This is a big deal. I don’t even know if I own appropriate ballet–auntic attire.”
“You’re fine.”
“Fine? Aaron, ballet parents are savage. They’ll take one look at me and know I’m an imposter. Do I clap on the right beat? Am I supposed to throw flowers? What if I cry? Do I look like a crier?”
“Yes.”
I swat his arm. “Rude.”
That twitch of his lips again, the barest ghost of a smile. “Kenzie’ll like you.”
I freeze for a second, blinking at him. It’s the most words he’s said all drive, and they tumble straight into my chest. I look away, trying to hide the way my cheeks heat. “Well, she sounds like a girl of excellent taste.”
The drive isn’t long, and by the time we pull into the school parking lot, I can already hear the faint chaos of children and parents filtering toward the auditorium.
Inside, the place smells like crayons and floor polish, with rows of folding chairs lined up facing a glittery stage curtain.
Aaron leads me toward the front, and that’s when a little whirlwind with pigtails and ballet slippers comes racing up to him. “Uncle Aaron!”
Kenzie practically launches into his arms. He crouches down, catching her with an ease that says this happens all the time.
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“Hi, bug.” His voice softens in a way I’ve never heard before, and my heart betrays me by flipping over. “Ready for your big night?”
She nods vigorously, then her wide eyes swing to me. “Who’s she?”
“This is Tessa,” Aaron says, looking up at me briefly like I’m important enough to be properly introduced. “She’s a friend.”
I crouch a little, offering a smile. “Hi, Kenzie. I’ve heard you’re the star of the show tonight.”
Her face lights up and she hides her giggle in Aaron’s shoulder.
Before I can melt into a puddle, a woman with the same eyes as Aaron —softer, warmer—appears at his side. She’s balancing a purse and a recital program and still somehow manages to look effortlessly put together.
“Aaron,” she says with fond exasperation. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone.”
“This is my sister, Claire,” Aaron says, straightening. “Claire, Tessa.”
Claire’s smile is immediate, genuine. “It’s so nice to meet you. Any friend of Aaron’s is family tonight.”
I like her instantly. “Thanks for having me. I wouldn’t miss seeing Kenzie’s debut.”
Claire beams and ushers us toward our seats as the lights begin to dim. Parents shuffle and hush each other, and the chatter dies down to a
low hum
The curtain stirs, the first tinkling notes of piano music fill the air, and the recital officially begins.
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And somehow, sitting there beside Aaron, surrounded by family that isn’t mine, I feel like I’ve stumbled into something I didn’t know I needed.
