Chapter 17 Good at pretending
“I called my brother that night,” she said quietly. “The night he died. I was at a party I wasn’t supposed to be at, with people I didn’t even like, drinking cheap beer that tasted like regret. And I called Ethan and asked him to come get me because I was too scared to call my mom and admit I’d snuck out.”
Aiden didn’t say anything. Just listened.
“He was supposed to be studying for midterms. He had a test the next day. But he came anyway because that’s what Ethan did.” Her voice was shaking now. “Before he could get to me, some drunk driver ran a red light and…”
She couldn’t finish. Didn’t need to.
“It’s been six months,” she continued after a moment. “And I still can’t forgive myself. I still wake up thinking maybe it was a nightmare. Maybe he’s just downstairs, burning toast and making terrible coffee. Maybe I get one more chance to tell him I love him.”
“But you don’t.”
“But I don’t.”
They sat there on the floor of Aiden’s studio, two people who’d lost their loved ones in car accidents, carrying guilt that wasn’t really theirs but felt too heavy to put down.
“My therapist says guilt is just love with nowhere to go,” Aiden said finally.
“That’s either really profound or really depressing.”
Ariella leaned her head on his shoulder without thinking about it. “It can be both.”
Aiden went very still. Then, slowly, he leaned his head against hers.
They stayed like that until the light started to fade outside, until the house got quiet except for the distant sound of Lily practicing piano somewhere on the first floor, until Ariella’s phone buzzed with a text from Marcus saying the car was waiting.
“I should go,” she said.
“Yeah.”
Neither of them moved.
“Tomorrow’s going to be weird,” Ariella said.
“Catastrophically weird.”
“I’m bringing like three boxes of stuff. This place is going to swallow them whole.”
“You can fill it with whatever you want. Photos, books, that terrible pop music you probably listen to…”
“Excuse me, I have excellent taste in music.”
“You fell asleep to my acoustic indie playlist. Your taste is questionable at best.”
Despite everything, Ariella laughed. “Your playlist was depressing. I fell asleep to escape it.”
“It’s called emotional depth.”
“It’s called whining with guitars.”
They were both smiling now. Actual smiles that reached their eyes.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Aiden said quietly. “That probably sounds weird. But I am. Even though this whole thing is a disaster, even though neither of us wants this…I’m glad it’s you.”
Ariella’s chest felt tight. “Yeah. Me too.”
Her phone buzzed again. Marcus, probably wondering where she was.
“I really have to go now.”
“I know.”
She stood, offering him her hand. He took it, letting her pull him up.
They walked downstairs together. The driver was waiting in the circular driveway…a different man this time, older, kind-faced.
“Miss Hayes,” he said with a small nod. “I’m Thomas. I’ll be your primary driver for the duration of your stay.”
“My primary driver,” Ariella repeated weakly.
“We have three on rotation. But you’ll see me most often. It’s my pleasure to serve you.”
The formal language made her want to crawl out of her skin. “You don’t have to…I’m just…”
“He knows,” Aiden said gently. “They all know. But they’re being paid to treat you like family, so just… let them.”
“That makes it sound even weirder.”
“Welcome to my life.”
Thomas opened the car door. Ariella climbed in, and the leather seats felt like sitting in someone else’s dream. Someone else’s money. Someone else’s life.
Aiden stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking smaller than he had in his studio.
“Text me when you get home safe?” he called.
“Okay.”
“And Ariella?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For falling asleep in my studio. For talking. For…” He paused. “For not running away yet.”
“Day’s not over.”
“Fair point.”
She smiled. He smiled back.
Then Thomas pulled away and she watched Aiden disappear in the rearview mirror…a boy standing alone in front of a mansion, looking like he didn’t quite know where he belonged.
She understood the feeling.
Her mother was waiting at the bakery when the car pulled up.
Claire stood in the doorway, arms crossed, trying to look stern but mostly looking relieved. When Ariella climbed out, her mother pulled her into a fierce hug.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I know you are.” Claire pulled back, studying her face. “Are you okay? Really okay?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Aiden showed me the renovation plans. They’re beautiful. He memorialized Ethan in the design.”
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “He did?”
“Yeah. Just a small notation. But it’s there. E.H. and C.M.F. Our loved ones, together.”
Claire pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, baby.”
They went upstairs to the apartment. The pasta was simple, just spaghetti with jarred hot source and frozen meatballs but it was the first real meal they’d shared in weeks. They sat at the tiny kitchen table, the one that wobbled unless you put a folded napkin under one leg, and ate in comfortable silence.
“I don’t want you to go tomorrow,” her mother said finally.
“I know.”
“But you have to.”
“Yeah.”
“Just promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me you’ll come home. Not just physically, emotionally. Don’t lose yourself in that place. Don’t let them turn you into someone you’re not.”
Ariella thought about the media training. About learning to lie professionally. About the performance she’d have to give for the cameras.
“I’ll try,” she said.
It was the best she could offer.
They spent the rest of the evening packing. Three boxes total one of clothes, one of books and photos, and one of random things Ariella couldn’t bear to leave behind. Ethan’s journal. Her grandmother’s old apron. The birthday card Sophie had made last year.
Small things that meant everything.
By the time they finished, it was after midnight. They stood in Ariella’s room, the room she’d had since she was six, and looked at the empty spaces.
“It looks so different already,” Claire said softly.
“Yeah.”
“But it’ll still be here. Whenever you need it. This will always be home, Ari. No matter where you sleep.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
They hugged for a long time. Then Ariella crawled into her childhood bed one last time, staring at the water stain on the ceiling, the one that looked like a reaching hand.