Chapter 157: Aunt Helena Knows

Chapter 157: Aunt Helena Knows
The phone rang once. I immediately questioned every decision that had led me to this moment. It rang a second time, and I briefly considered hanging up before Aunt Helena answered. If I disconnected now, I could simply pretend I'd accidentally called her while attempting to order takeout. Unfortunately, fate clearly disapproved of my escape plan. On the third ring, the call connected. "Liela, darling!" Aunt Helena's warm, elegant voice flowed through the speaker, bright enough to make me smile despite the war currently raging inside my head. In the background, I could hear papers rustling and someone laughing before a door quietly closed. "Perfect timing," she said cheerfully. "I just finished interviewing a lovely gentleman who insists his greatest strength is folding fitted sheets. I'm still deciding whether that's genuinely impressive or a cry for help." I laughed. "Considering I've never successfully folded one myself, I'd call it a rare talent." "Exactly what I told him." She chuckled before her voice softened. "Now then... to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? You don't usually call me in the middle of the week unless something interesting has happened."

"I just..." I hesitated, instantly regretting every life choice I'd ever made. "I wanted to ask your opinion about something." There was a pause. Not an awkward one. The sort of pause Aunt Helena always took when she was quietly putting together pieces of a puzzle. Then she hummed thoughtfully. "...Does this 'something' happen to have dark hair, remarkable manners, and a tendency to wear expensive coats?" My eyes widened. "...What?" She laughed softly. "I'll take that as a yes." I sat bolt upright on the sofa. "How did you know?" "Darling," she replied with unmistakable amusement, "I've been running a matchmaking agency for over thirty years. Reading people is rather essential to my profession." She paused just long enough for suspense to settle. "Besides..." I could practically hear her smiling through the phone. "...the only two things capable of making you hesitate that much are work... and Grayson Hale."

I covered my face with one hand. "...I don't like that answer." "I know." "It's deeply invasive." "It's deeply accurate." I groaned dramatically, sinking farther into the sofa. "Wonderful." Aunt Helena laughed again, sounding entirely too pleased with herself. "So," she continued, "what has Mr. Hale done this time?" "Why do you automatically assume he did something?" "Because I met the man." She sounded perfectly reasonable. "He's thoughtful, patient, and quite clearly incapable of pretending you don't matter to him." I nearly dropped my phone. "...Excuse me?" "Oh, darling." She laughed warmly. "Did you honestly think nobody noticed the way he looked at you?" Heat immediately rushed into my cheeks. "He... he wasn't looking at me." "Mm-hm." "He wasn't." "Liela." "He could've been looking past me." "At a wall?" "...It was a very interesting wall." Aunt Helena's laughter echoed through the speaker. "You're adorable when you're in denial."

"I am not in denial." "You absolutely are." "I'm being realistic." "No, you're hiding." I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again because... annoyingly... she sounded far too confident. Aunt Helena, meanwhile, continued as though she hadn't just dismantled my entire defense in under thirty seconds. "Ever since I met Grayson, I've had one impression of him." I frowned. "...Which is?" "That he's a man who doesn't waste time." Her tone turned thoughtful. "He doesn't seem like someone who says or does things without a reason. If he makes an effort, it's because he genuinely wants to." I stared silently at the floor. Images from earlier that afternoon drifted back into my mind. Waiting outside my apartment. Walking beside me through Manhattan. The amusement park bet. The Scotland itinerary tucked safely inside my notebook. And the way he'd simply asked me to think about it before deciding. Aunt Helena spoke again, her voice gentle this time. "Tell me what happened."

I let out a slow breath that seemed to carry the weight of the entire afternoon with it. "You're going to overreact." "Probably." "You're going to become unbearably excited." "There's an excellent chance." "You'll interrupt me halfway through." "Only if absolutely necessary." I narrowed my eyes despite the fact that she couldn't see me. "That wasn't reassuring." "No," she admitted with complete honesty. "It wasn't." I couldn't help laughing. Honestly, trying to prepare Aunt Helena for surprising news was like trying to prepare fireworks for being colorful. It was simply part of their nature. She had spent years introducing strangers who later fell in love, organizing engagements, attending weddings, and insisting that everyone deserved a chance at happiness. Asking her to remain calm during a conversation involving Grayson Hale was probably one of the least realistic expectations I'd ever had.

I drew in one more steadying breath before finally surrendering. "All right." I shifted farther back against the sofa cushions, clutching the phone a little tighter. "Promise you'll let me finish before saying anything." "I promise," Aunt Helena replied immediately, although the excitement bubbling beneath her voice suggested that promise might have a very short lifespan. "Good." I nodded to myself. "Because if you interrupt me every five seconds, I'll lose my nerve." "You have my word." I inhaled slowly, then closed my eyes. "Grayson..." I began carefully. "...invited me to go with him..." I paused just long enough to hear Aunt Helena's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "...to Scotland." Silence. Complete, absolute silence. Which, somehow, was even more alarming than if she'd started screaming.

For three long seconds, all I heard was silence. Not the comfortable kind. Not the thoughtful kind. This was the sort of silence that arrived just before a spectacular explosion. I slowly lowered the phone from my ear to make sure the call hadn't disconnected. The timer was still counting. She was still there. "...Aunt Helena?" I asked cautiously, lifting the phone back to my ear. Another second passed before a sound escaped her. It wasn't a word. It wasn't even a sentence. It was one long, delighted gasp that somehow managed to contain approximately fifteen years' worth of matchmaking enthusiasm. "Liela Brooks," she breathed dramatically, "do you have any idea what you've just told me?" I pinched the bridge of my nose. "...I'm beginning to regret it already." "Regret it?" she repeated in disbelief. "Darling, if you could see my face right now, you'd understand why I can't possibly speak in complete sentences." I groaned softly. "This is exactly why I asked you not to overreact." "I'm not overreacting," she declared with complete sincerity. "I'm reacting the appropriate amount."

She didn't even attempt to hide her excitement anymore. "Scotland?" she repeated, as though testing whether the word sounded just as wonderful the second time. "He invited you to Scotland?" "Yes." "Another country?" "Yes." "Just the two of you?" I hesitated. "...There'll be his publisher, manager, event organizers, booksellers, approximately a thousand readers, and what I imagine is a very hardworking security team." "That's not what I asked." "I know." I sighed dramatically. "But I preferred my version." Aunt Helena laughed so brightly that I instinctively held the phone a little farther away from my ear. "Liela, do you realize what this means?" "That I desperately need a passport check?" "No." "That international food is expensive?" "No." "That Elliot is going to lock me inside the office supply closet?" "Much more likely," she admitted with a chuckle, "but still no."

"I don't understand why you're so excited," I protested, curling my legs beneath me on the sofa. "It's only an invitation." "Only?" she echoed, sounding positively scandalized. "Darling, Grayson Hale is one of the busiest men I've ever met. His schedule is planned months in advance. Every hour of that promotional tour will have been carefully organized. Interviews. Signings. Meetings. Public appearances." She paused meaningfully. "And despite all of that..." Another pause. "...he looked at that impossibly full schedule and decided the one person he wanted beside him was you." My lips parted, but no words came out. "Think about it," Aunt Helena continued gently. "He could have invited another author. A colleague. Someone from his publicity team. Yet he invited the woman who edits his manuscripts." I looked down at the Scotland itinerary lying beside me on the sofa. Somehow, hearing someone else say it aloud made the invitation feel entirely different.

"But..." I began quietly, "...what if I'm reading too much into it?" Aunt Helena laughed softly. "Darling, you're the one trying to read less into it." I frowned. "What do you mean?" "You're searching desperately for ordinary explanations because extraordinary ones frighten you." I opened my mouth to object before realizing... she wasn't entirely wrong. She continued before I could interrupt. "Tell me something honestly." "Okay." "Did he pressure you?" "No." "Did he become angry when you said no?" "No." "Did he make you feel guilty?" "No." "Then what did he do?" I smiled despite myself, remembering the conversation. "...He told me to think about it properly. He said if I still didn't want to go after a few days... he'd respect my decision." Aunt Helena hummed with unmistakable approval. "Exactly."

I leaned back against the sofa, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the itinerary. "I'm still scared," I admitted quietly. "Of Scotland?" "Not really." "Flying?" "Not exactly." She waited patiently. "...Then what?" I stared at the ceiling for a long moment before whispering the answer I'd been avoiding all day. "...I'm scared of what happens if I go." The confession lingered between us. Aunt Helena didn't answer immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer than before. "You're not afraid of Scotland, sweetheart." I swallowed. "No." "You're afraid that saying yes means admitting this has become more than a professional relationship." My heart skipped a beat because she'd said exactly what I'd been too afraid to put into words.

"I think..." Aunt Helena said gently, "...you've already started falling for him. That's why this decision feels so enormous." I closed my eyes, letting out the slowest breath imaginable. Every instinct urged me to deny it, to laugh it off, to insist she was imagining things. But after everything that had happened—the manuscript, the birthday, the amusement park, the invitation, and the way Grayson had cared more about my comfort than getting the answer he wanted—I wasn't sure I could.

\[ Note from the Author
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