Dylan wanted to object, to say they did mind, but the words stuck somewhere between her heart and her mouth. Around them, she could feel the restaurant's attention like heat on her skin. Everyone was watching. Everyone would be talking about this tomorrow. And Victoria had already claimed the chair before either of them could respond, settling in with the grace of someone who'd never been told no.
"I've been thinking about our brief meeting," Victoria said, looking between them with something that seemed like warmth but felt calculated. "And I realized I was rude. I was just so surprised to see..." she paused delicately, "...how much things had changed at the garage."
"Seven years is a long time," Aidan said evenly.
Victoria's laugh was practiced perfection. "It really is. Do you remember that spring when we drove to Charleston? It feels like yesterday and forever ago all at once." She turned to Dylan with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Aidan and I got caught in the most ridiculous rainstorm. We ended up dancing in the street like idiots while tourists took pictures."
Dylan felt herself shrinking into her chair. She'd never danced with Aidan in the rain. Never taken spontaneous trips to Charleston. Never been part of the memories that shaped him.
"Or that Christmas at Daddy's estate," Victoria continued, her voice rich with nostalgia. "Your whole family came. It was magical—the house all decorated, the quartet playing in the ballroom. I ran into your mother in the city last year, and she said it was still one of her favorite holidays."
Dylan's stomach clenched. Of course Aidan's mother would remember Christmas parties at estates. Dylan had shared plenty of O'Hara family holidays, but they'd been casual affairs—potlucks and chaos and laughter in the farmhouse kitchen. Not quartets in ballrooms. Not the kind of elegant celebration that Victoria could host, that Victoria's world demanded.
"Victoria—" Aidan started, but she smoothly continued.
"I know, I know. I'm being nostalgic." Victoria leaned forward, and there was something almost kind in her expression that somehow made it worse. "Dylan, I've heard such wonderful things about you since I've been back. The whole town seems impressed with your restoration work. It's quite an achievement, building a reputation like that."
The compliment should have felt good, but delivered in Victoria's patrician voice, it sounded like someone praising a pet for a clever trick.
"Thank you," Dylan managed.
"I have to admit," Victoria said, her gaze sliding between them, "I'm curious how this all came about. You and Aidan working together, I mean. It's such an unlikely pairing." She smiled at Aidan with familiar warmth. "You always said you'd never mix business with pleasure. Remember? After that disaster with the accounting firm in Denver?"
Dylan felt like she was watching a tennis match where she didn't know the rules. Victoria lobbed references and memories over the net, each one landing with casual precision, reminding everyone—especially Dylan—of just how much history she and Aidan shared.
"That was a long time ago," Aidan said, but his voice had lost some of its earlier warmth.
"True. But some things don't change." Victoria's eyes found his with unmistakable meaning. "You still have that tell when you're uncomfortable—that thing you do with your jaw. You're doing it right now."
She was right. Dylan could see it—the slight tension in Aidan's jaw that she'd noticed at the garage but hadn't known was a tell. Victoria knew these things. Victoria had catalogued years of his expressions, his habits, the small truths that Dylan was only beginning to learn.
"We really should let you finish your dinner," Victoria said, glancing at their cooling food with practiced sympathy. "I just wanted to clear the air. No hard feelings about the other day?" She directed this at Dylan, and it was phrased as a question but felt like a statement of dominance.
"Of course not," Dylan said, because what else could she say with the entire restaurant listening?
Victoria stood with fluid grace. "Wonderful. Aidan, we should catch up properly while I'm in town. I'm helping Daddy with some business matters, and I'd love your perspective. You always had such a brilliant mind for these things." She pulled out a business card—of course she had business cards—and placed it on the table. "My cell's on there. Call me."
Then she turned to Dylan one more time. "It's been lovely meeting you properly. I'm sure we'll see more of each other while I'm here." The words were friendly, but something in her eyes said she'd taken Dylan's measure and found her...adequate. Maybe. For now.
After she left, the restaurant slowly resumed its normal rhythm, though Dylan could still feel glances darting their way, conversations being held in lowered voices.
Aidan sat silent for a moment, staring at the business card like it was a snake coiled on the tablecloth.
Dylan couldn't meet his eyes. Inside, she felt like an engine that had been flooded—too much fuel, not enough air, everything choked and uncertain. Victoria had waltzed in and casually demolished any illusion Dylan had that she belonged in Aidan's world. Charleston trips. Christmas parties. Inside jokes and tells and two years of memories that Dylan could never be part of.
"Dylan—" Aidan started.
"She seems nice," Dylan said, the lie tasting like metal on her tongue. "Apologizing like that."
"That wasn't an apology. That was a territorial marking."
Dylan forced herself to look at him. "You danced with her in the rain."
"Seven years ago. In a different life."
"She knows things about you I don't know," Dylan said quietly. "Your mother. Your tells. Your?—"
"My past," Aidan interrupted firmly. "She knows my past, Dylan. But she doesn't know me. Not the me I am now. Not the me I want to be."
