“Great.”
He stands up to pull my chair out for me, and I shoot him a grateful smile. A few moments after I sit down, a waiter comes up to take our order, and we chat easily as we wait for our food to arrive, sipping on lemonade.
“I worked at the library after high school,” Noah explains, stirring his drink. “It was a nice gig before college.”
“Really? God, I remember spending hours there.”
“You did, didn’t you?”
“What—you saw me?”
He laughs, leaning back in his chair. “God, yeah. I mean, I knew you from school. I’d see you occasionally. Especially senior year.”
I don’t say that it’s because I lost all my friends. The memory of that year isn’t particularly good, and I definitely don’t want to dredge it up now.
Our lunch arrives after a few more minutes, and we keep the conversation light. Noah talks about his work and I talk about art, mostly. It feels good to just let regular things take center stage instead of kidnapping and arranged marriage.
I’m happy. I have lunch, a good lemonade, and a decent guy sitting across from me. It’s perfect.
But just as I take another bite of my pasta and set down my fork, the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Something is off.
My gaze darts around warily, as if I’m an animal sensing a predator, and my heart stops when I see Aiden striding toward us.
He looks like an angel of death as he walks up to our table, standing on the other side of the metal fence that encloses us. Aiden’s jaw is tight, and Noah glances up at him with his brows furrowed, like maybe he’s about to ask if they know each other.
But Aiden speaks before he can say anything.
“Who the fuck is this?”
The words are furious. They come out flat and calm, but something heavy and dangerous laces every syllable.
My hands curl under the table, gripping the hem of the sundress I threw on after my shower.
What is he doing here? And how the hell did he find me?
“No one,” I say, my voice strained. I don’t want him coming after Noah or Noah’s family. I’d never fucking forgive myself.
“Really?” Aiden growls. He gestures to the table with one hand. “This is nothing?”
“It’s lunch,” I say, barely getting the words out through gritted teeth. “I have to eat.”
He shakes his head, his gaze boring into me. “You can eat at home.”
It happens so fast that I barely realize what Aiden is doing until he’s lifting me up out of my chair and hauling me over the iron fence that borders the patio.
The world spins around me as he throws me over his shoulder, and I let out a yelp as his heavy footsteps start to stride away. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Noah staring at us, his jaw slack and his eyes wide.
Then we reach Aiden’s car, and I’m tossed unceremoniously inside.
My breath is coming in jagged gasps, and I feel like my ribs are tightening, squeezing around my lungs. Anger and embarrassment whirl inside me, turning my stomach sour and making my palms sweat.
Aiden keeps his gaze on the road, his expression as dark as a thundercloud. Neither of us says a word the entire drive home, and as soon as he pulls into the garage, I jump out of the car and slam the door behind me.
As I run inside, Aiden strides in behind me, and the sound of his footsteps only pushes my anger higher. I’m so mad that I do something stupid.
I stop.
