Текст книги "Dirty Lies"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Aidan

The tears are falling from her eyes thick and fast, pouring past my thumbs and curving down her jaw to her neck. She doesn’t reply to me; I don’t even think she can. I think all the energy she has is going into the tears she’s crying.

Fuck though.

No way.

No fucking way am I letting her walk away from me right now.

Not now that I know this is as real to her as it is to me.

I tilt her face back and gently press my mouth to hers. The salty tears that have fallen there create a barrier between us, but I kiss that away until there’s nothing left except the sweet taste of her—of my Jessie.

I can almost hear her warring with herself, torn between staying or leaving. As much as it hurts, it is her choice. But one of them will be wrong. One of them will fucking kill me, of that I’m sure. If she chooses to walk away from me right now, I know I’ll never be the same again.

If anyone has ever had the power to break my heart, it’s her. And that heart is hanging in the balance right now.

She opens her eyes. The tears have made them shinier than I’ve ever seen them, but her hesitation has dulled their usual sparkle. Her wariness and fear has made them a shadow of their usual color. “How do I know this isn’t another lie?”

“Because hearts don’t lie.”

She drops her gaze to the ground. Hearts don’t lie, but mine sure as hell just fucking sunk to the pit of my stomach. Every part of me wants her to stay, even if it means I have to fight to convince her everything I just said is true. I can’t fight if she isn’t here.

“You’re my favorite lie, too, and my worst choice,” she whispers, followed by a deep exhale. “But I don’t know if I can do it, Aidan. I don’t know if I can keep taking the crap I have been. Are you really willing to let me do it? Because next time, it might not be my car. I think some of those girls really, really want to kill me.”

“If you try and go, I’ll save them the job,” I murmur, smiling.

The edges of her lips curve up just a little. “Try it and I’ll put your drumstick up your butt,” she replies.

“Kinky.” I wipe the last tear from beneath her eye and wrap my arms around her shoulders. She drops her bag and towel and willingly steps into me, holding my waist. I bury my face in her wet hair and kiss the side of her head. “They’ll stop when they realize this is for real. We have security for a reason. But that doesn’t really matter—what matters is us. If I promise to piss you off every day and always leave a drumstick within your reach, will you agree to be with me for real?”

“You’re serious about the drumstick?”

“I never joke when it comes to my tools.”

She tut-tuts, but I feel her smile against my skin. “Is the drumstick for you or your fan club?”

“For whatever purpose it’s needed. My brothers are bastards. I’m not gonna restrict you to just shoving it up my ass, you know.”

She laughs and tilts her head back. “How do you do it? Ten minutes ago I was sure I wanted to be as far away from you as possible, and now I’m laughing while silently thinking of all the ways I can hurt you with your drumsticks.”

“Hurt me? Whoa now. I thought they’d be our new sex toy. Hurting brothers, not me!”

“Sex toys?” Tate asks, walking around the far corner with his arm around Ella. “Who’s usin’ sex toys?”

Ella slaps his bare stomach, and Jessie pushes me off her. “We found your vibrating vagina,” she tells him, lifting her towel and wiping her face.

“Aw, shit. Ella didn’t know about that!”

Ella laughs. “So you think.”

He stops, looking at her. “I don’t have a vibrating vagina.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You’ve had several. They just all came with legs and the ability to sell their story to the media. You probably should have gone for the plastic one.”

He looks at me, defeated. “I really fuckin’ hate it when she kicks my ass like that, you know?”

“You’re tellin’ me,” I reply, picking up Jessie’s bag. She smirks at me.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Tate asks her, looking between the bag and her as we walk back to the lounge area.

“She tried to,” Kye answers helpfully, unscrewing the cap on a water bottle. “She ran, Aidan chased her like he had a jumbo jet up his ass, she cried, he begged, groveled, pleaded, whined, begged some more, and she finally gave in after one of those movie-type kisses.”

“Thanks, man. That doesn’t make me sound like a loser at all,” I drawl, dumping the bag back on her lounge chair.

“You’re welcome, bro. Thanks for the front-row seat.” He tips his water bottle at me, but his grin and wink are directed at Jessie.

“You tried to leave and you chased her? Again?” Tate snorts. “Y’all need your own fuckin’ reality show. Duggars and Kardashians got nothin’ on you.”

I wish I could fucking argue that, but I can’t.

“And Jessie has a better ass than Kim,” Kye adds.

Can’t argue that either.

“Go find your own ass to look at, because you’re outnumbered,” Ella pipes up, prodding Kye in the shoulder.

Kye snorts, screwing the cap back on the water bottle and dropping it on his lounge chair. “My own ass? Fuck no. It’s bad enough dealing with all y’all, never mind another.”

Jessie rolls her eyes, unbraiding her hair and reaching into her bag at the same time. “We have to deal with four of y’all,” she argues, rightly, too. “It’s only fair.”

“We, huh?” Conner asks, grinning. “So you’re his real girlfriend now? Aw, look at you two. All grown up!”

“You know, I’d have a great shot at your balls from here.” She brandishes her hairbrush, and he steps back out of her reach. “Besides, he’ll just keep chasin’ me.”

“Like a dog with a ball,” Kye continues. He taps his thighs and whistles at me. “Here, boy.”

Jessie claps her hand over her mouth, and I grab the nearest object, which happens to be the brush from Jessie’s hand. I throw it at Kye, and he only just ducks in time for it to fly past his head.

“Bastard,” he laughs, shoving his finger up at me.

“Payback,” I shrug. “I shared a womb with you for nine months. You used to kick the shit out of me.”

“Really? You’re playin’ that card?”

“Hey,” Tate interrupts. “You used that all the time when we were kids. You told Mom that Ads beat you when she was pregnant and you were just getting your own back.”

“I remember that,” Sofie agrees. “You used it when you were eighteen, too.”

“He still uses it,” Conner snorts.

“So does Aidan,” Jessie laughs, redoing her hair. She ties it off with a snap. “Can I have my brush back now, Kye?”

Predictably, Kye picks it up and throws it back at me. Jessie reaches up and catches it with one hand before I can so much as move out of the way.

“Jesus,” she mutters. “Y’all look like I just gave birth to Yoda or somethin’. I was on the softball team in high school, remember?”

“You were?” I ask. “I think I mostly just stared at your ass in high school.”

“What’s changed?”

“Point made.” I grin, taking her hands and helping her up.

“Daddy!” Mila yells. “Mama, side!”

Sofie drops her head back.

“Comin’,” Conner calls back grinning, then grabs Sofie. “Come on, princess. You wanted to bring her with us, now you’re payin’ the price.”

“If I didn’t think it would boost your ego, I’d say I should listen to you more,” she groans.

“It’s the toddler slides or the big one.”

“Hey, Mila, you want a Popsicle?” Sofie asks.

“Yeah! Yeah! Wed!”

“Come on then.” Sofie grins, holding her hand out for her. Mila goes toddling over, but Jessie gets up and intercepts Mila, throwing her over her shoulder before Sofie can get her.

“I owe her one!” Jessie explains as Mila giggles like hell. “Looks like you’re goin’ on the big slide!”

“This isn’t fair!” Sofie complains as Conner grabs her, smiling.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t been on it,” I remind her, watching as Jessie takes Mila to the only open stand in the waterpark, set up for our convenience, since we are the only people here.

“Yeah,” Tate agrees, a smile spreading across his face. “And it took Ella’s bikini top off.”

“Aw, fuck,” Kye grumbles. “I miss all the good stuff.”

“Get your own girlfriend, then you won’t miss anything,” Ella teases him.

“I’ll move out if y’all are gonna start with that.”

“Can I have your room?” I laugh.

“Fuck off.”

“Dollar.” Mila stomps over, Popsicle in one hand, the other stretched out.

“Slide,” Kye bargains.

She tilts her head to the side. “Otay. Let’s go!” She hands Tate her Popsicle then tugs at Kye’s shorts, pointing at the slide.

“Have fun,” Jessie grins, coming over to stand by me. Kye disappears with Mila, and Tate wipes Mila’s Popsicle down Ella’s back. She screams, and he runs away, her hot on his heels.

I laugh and wrap my arm around Jessie’s shoulders. She leans into me, and I kiss the top of her head, squeezing her shoulders.

I feel apprehensive about this, because I always did promise that I’d never put anyone through what Sofie and Ella have dealt with quietly and Jessie already has. Just as we, as brothers and a band, settle down one by one, our fans are bound to get crazier.

And as worried as I am for whoever Kye’s future girlfriend might be, I’m really fucking glad he’s the last single one. I’m taken.

A magazine hits me in the head.

“Hey!” I look up, hand flying to the spot on my forehead where it just hit me.

“Look at the cover!” Tate yells, storming into the kitchen and clenching his fists. “First he rips you a new asshole for doing what you want, then he instructs the media to run bullshit stories!”

I frown and bend down to pick up the magazine. I slap it on the table, and the words jump out at me:

IS AIDAN BURKE CHEATING ON HIS TATTED LADY LOVE?

Beneath the big-lettered caption is a picture of, apparently, me, entering a bar with my arm around a blonde. I squint and pull it closer to my face. “That’s Kye,” I say, dropping it down.

“I know,” Tate growls. “When you called Marc after we left Florida yesterday, he probably thought you were going to tell him you were breaking up with Jessie. When you told him you weren’t, he got pissed and planted this story.”

“He counted on the breakup for publicity.” I stand up. “Does Jessie know?”

“Does Jessie know what?” Ella asks, opening the front door and stepping to the side.

Jessie’s lips thin. “Do I know that you apparently spent last night with Chelsey in a bar by the beach? No. I didn’t get hounded this morning after work or have three different journalists try to buy coffee before my boss called the cops.”

I wince. Fuck. “Sorry.”

“What for?” she asks, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the table. “You weren’t with my best friend. Your brother was. They could have at least Photoshopped your tattoos onto him—and checked your actual whereabouts before they ran this stuff.”

I read the caption under the image. The image was apparently taken at 10:30, which is when I just so happened to be naked and underneath Jessie. “I’d have some mad skill to be with you and her at the same time.”

Tate snorts. “Are you secretly the Flash?”

“Batman,” I reply. “What do we do?”

“We need to think about that.” He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “But when our manager, the guy who’s supposed to have our best interests at heart, goes and fucks with us this way, then I’m not fucking happy with him.”

“So fire him,” Jessie says simply, shrugging.

Tate and I glance at each other.

“What?” she says, looking around at us. “You didn’t like his original idea, although you went along with it.” She shoots me a glance. “But at least that kind of made sense. This is just bullshit. Anyone can see this isn’t you.” She jabs at the magazine cover. “Look. Like I said. Tattoos. This is your left arm, and on your left arm you have trees. Kye doesn’t have anything on his lower left arm.”

“And your fans know it,” Ella adds. “We already checked Twitter. They’re going nuts over the fact the media screwed up.”

I pull out my phone and open the app. Just like she said, Twitter is blowing up, and our surname is trending again. “Well, his plan worked, either way,” I admit.

“But it’s a piece-of-shit plan,” Tate argues, still angry. “We need to get together tonight—all four of us—and make a choice.”

“Fire him.” I shrug.

“What will you do with no manager, though? My sister is obsessed with stalking y’all’s page for news on the new album you’re gonna record.” Jessie bites her thumb.

“Lawyers,” Tate answers. “The album will get recorded. We have the studio time already, and a whole other team aside from Marc. We knew what kind of guy he was when we signed his contracts three years ago, but we thought we needed a ruthless asshole to get us somewhere.”

“It wasn’t the best choice we made, but this industry changes so often, and he has the track record,” I continue, resting my hand on Jessie’s thigh. “It won’t be hard for us to find a new manager. We made more than any other ‘boy band’ in America last year.”

Jessie looks down at me, a smirk on her face. “Yet y’all still live at home with your mom and dad.”

I pause. “Shut up.”

She laughs.

“We’ve gotta move out,” I mutter, and Tate echoes his agreement.

“And now,” he finishes.

“Anyway,” Jessie says, jumping up. “We’re going shopping. We just wanted to stop by and tell you that I saw and laughed.”

“You gonna be okay?” I ask. “We can call Ajax and have him send someone to go with you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t need a bodyguard, rocker boy. Ella has mace in her purse, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“You don’t need mace,” Tate tells her, grabbing an apple from the bowl. “You just have to open your mouth and shoot them down. You’re fuckin’ scary.”

Jessie smiles sweetly. “I know.” She bends down and kisses my cheek before she and Ella walk outside.

I share a glance with Tate, and we follow them to the door. The reporters camped outside yell questions at Jessie: Does she know where I was last night? How does she feel about me cheating on her? Does she know who the girl is?

I can just imagine her rolling her eyes as she leans out her window. She puts her fingers to her mouth and whistles.

“Shit,” Tate winces.

“Mhmm,” I mutter.

“Can we ask you a question?” someone yells.

“Just did,” Jessie responds. “Can y’all move? You’re blockin’ the road, and my right foot is a little heavy.”

“We have a question for you!”

“Yes I know where Aidan was last night. I’m pretty okay about him cheating, but only because he’s really fucking bad at poker, and yeah, I know who the girl is, but since you got Kye’s name wrong, you probably don’t need to add another name to your pretty little confused heads. Now can y’all please move?”

I snort, fighting my laughter.

They yell at her again, and her head disappears from view, followed by the rev of the engine. They still don’t move, so she makes good on her threat. Her car rolls forward slowly, but in typical media fashion, they still don’t move.

“Oh shit,” Tate chuckles.

She speeds up until it becomes clear she really isn’t gonna stop, and pure amusement and a sick kind of pleasure flood through me as the media scrambles out of the way.

“Assholes!” Jessie yells just before she turns off the driveway.

“I like her,” Tate says, nodding. “She’s fun.”

I just laugh in response, because fuck yeah, she’s fun.

“Aidan!”

“Aw, fuck,” I groan as questions are suddenly directed to me. “Now we’re gonna have to call Ajax and get these fuckers away from us.”

“Do you have anything to say about the allegations?” a man yells, holding out a voice recorder like it’ll catch anything I say from fifteen feet away.

“Allegations?” Tate looks at me. “What’d you do, murder someone?”

I shrug and look back. “Nah, not really,” I call to the guy.

“So you don’t care that you cheated on your girlfriend?”

“Poker is a pretty hard game, I guess. But hey—you win some, you lose some.”

“Nailed it.” Tate nudges me, pulling out his phone. “Y’all need to get off our property now. If you have any questions, you already have our representative on speed dial, I’m sure.”

“So you don’t have anything to say?”

I pause before I turn away, and grin. “Yeah, y’all should watch out, ’cause the Burke boys don’t date damsels in distress.”

Jessie

Good freakin’ Lord.

“I thought you hated rock stars.”

“I do,” Chelsey snaps.

“So why’d you sleep with one?”

“I was drunk!”

I purse my lips. “So was I. And now I’m dating one.”

“Well, my apologies.” She covers her face with her hands and drops back on her sofa. “Ugh! Why did I do that?”

“Because he’s hot?”

“Girl. You’re dating his brother.”

“And? They’re identical. It’s not like I’m insulting Aidan by saying that, is it?” I roll my eyes. “Come on, Chels. The media has no idea who they are and they think Kye is Aidan. They’re idiots. Just avoid him from now on and it’ll all blow over.”

“Avoid him?” she snaps again, looking at me. “Like you tried to with Aidan, you mean?”

“Take a vacation,” I suggest. “Just get away for a bit.”

“Can’t you ask him to do that?”

“Uh, no.” I grab my phone from her table and get up, looking at her. MTV is on, news focusing solely on that story.

So she hates rock stars, because her dad is one and happens to be a cheating dick, but she’s maybe a little too obsessed, considering no one has recognized her from the back.

“Look,” I say, stopping by her door. “Pull your big-girl panties up, Chelsey. You fucked a guy that happens to be famous. So what? You’re young and single and had fun. Unless you promised each other a lifetime of orgasms, it’s no big deal.”

“Unless the media finds out who I am, who my father is, and take my life story and hang it out to dry.”

“I can’t help but think she’s focusing on the wrong part of this,” Ads says, scrunching up the chip bag and throwing it in the trash. “Why isn’t she thinking about the sex?”

I sigh. “Not everything is about sex. After you cornered me into sleeping with you, all I wanted to do was never see you again ever for the rest of my life.”

“Shit—was it that bad?”

“I cried in my pillow for an hour after you left the hotel.”

He laughs, grabbing my hands and pulling me up. “Now I’d apologize and promise to rectify it right now, but I have a surprise.”

“You. Have a surprise?” I ask skeptically. “Is it another great idea? I don’t have to pretend to be pregnant, do I?”

“If I didn’t like you, that would annoy me,” he muses teasingly. “But no. No more great ideas. We fired Marc yesterday after we got together.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me last night?”

He pauses. “I was busy last night.”

“With me.”

“With you, on top of you, under you . . . There’s a difference?”

“Hey—my mouth is up here. My vagina needs a rest from you.”

“You’re not used to so much awesome sex. That’s all. I need to break you in.”

“I’m not a horse.”

“Damn fun to ride though.”

I slap his arm as he hands me a helmet.

“Wait,” he says, stopping me before I put it on. “Are you wearing your Spanx?”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to be wearing Spanx.”

“I’m pretty sure that is the first time a guy has said that to a girl. Ever.” I’m kind of worried. “No. I’m not wearing Spanx. They’re counterproductive when your new boyfriend is a sex maniac who’s trying to break in your vagina.”

“You need to go and put your Spanx on.”

“I’m wearing my fat-day panties. They’re close enough,” I inform him, putting the helmet on. “Although the Spanx are so evil they’d probably save my life the day this death machine eventually tries to kill me.”

“Oh, get on the bike, you fuckin’ girl.”

“Watch it, I punch like a girl.”

“Baby, you do a lot of things like a girl, and I like it that way.” He grins over his shoulder before kick-starting the bike. Reluctantly, I wrap my arms around his waist and press my front against his back.

I’m never going to like this fucking bike.

And if I ever do, my hymen will have grown back and the US government will be exposed as Klingons or something.

Or I’ll get my Hogwarts letter.

No—wait. I want the letter. Scratch that.

It feels like I’ve been holding on to him forever when the bike finally stops and I can open my eyes. We’re surrounded by a thick forest of trees whose branches stretch out so far that we’re basically under a canopy of shade. I pull off the helmet and inhale the woody forest air slowly. “Where are we?”

“In a forest,” Aidan replies dryly.

“Well, aren’t you the fucking comedian?” I get off the bike and put my helmet on the seat, his laughter ringing out as I do.

“In Shelton Bay? Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m still laughing,” I say, my voice flat.

Again, he laughs, and grabs my hand, pulling it to his mouth. “Oh, come on,” he says with his lips against my knuckles. “You laugh every day around me. I’m just naturally hilarious.”

“As a car crash.”

“Don’t make me add another spank to your list.”

“Oh, be quiet, you. And if this is gonna be a thing, we need to set clear boundaries of what is spank-worthy, because accidentally bringing you a latte instead of an Americano is not on the list.”

“Americano,” he pshhes. “I’m not a fucking coffee connoisseur, sunshine. I just want a regular, basic coffee with two sugars and cream. It’s you women that drink the fancy shit.”

“Tate asked me if I could make him an Irish one the other day.”

“What’s that?”

“Alcoholic,” I laugh. “And it was six thirty in the morning.”

“Ah!” Aidan grins. “He owed Sofie babysitting, and Mila was playing the guitar at four a.m.”

Note to self: when Aidan has a babysitting favor to pay, stay far, far away.

“Okay,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

“Close your eyes while in the middle of a forest God only knows where. That’s reassuring. Are you gonna chop me up and murder me?”

“Not tonight. But I can’t promise that in the future.”

Note to self: don’t enter a dark forest with Aidan Burke ever again.

“Jessica! Eyes!”

“My name is Jessie, you rotten bastard!”

“I know.” He grins. “But it’s still so fucking fun to call you Jessica.”

“I swear, one of these days—”

He cuts me off by kissing me, pulling me into him and wrapping his arm around me. I step back, startled by the force of his embrace, and he steadies me. “Oh, shut up,” he mutters. “Now close your goddamn eyes.”

“Ugh!” I slap my hand over my eyes, leaving them open.

He peels one finger back and raises his eyebrows.

I snap my eyes shut. “Killjoy.”

With my eyes closed and only his fingers linked through mine, I allow him to guide me through the rest of the forest. Hopefully. You know, because dismemberment is still a possibility.

Branches crunch under my feet, and we’ve walked for a good two minutes in silence.

He pulls me to him and then releases me quickly to stand by my side and cover my eyes.

We stop.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

“For our real first date.”

What the—holy shit.

His hands have barely dropped from my eyes when I freeze at the sight before me. His truck is parked with the bed facing the sea at the edge of the forest, the tailgate down, and much like they were on our fake first date, cushions and blankets laid out in the back. A bottle of wine and two glasses are sitting in the middle, alongside a takeout pizza.

“I had a little help with that,” he admits, gesturing to the pizza. “It was dropped here five minutes ago.”

My lips curve up when I look up at him, because, damn.

Now I know why he wanted me to wear Spanx.

“Damn,” I say quietly. “You’re one big surprise, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, grinning. “I wanted to give you a real first date where it wasn’t followed by cameras. Where you can wear your Spanx and run around barefoot. Although, you did pass on the Spanx.”

“Just as well.” My eyes find the pizza. “Well played, rocker boy. Well played.”

“Not done,” he says, amusement in his eyes. “But later. Not yet.”

“If it’s more sex . . .”

His laughter warms me. “No. Well,” he pauses, not laughing anymore. “Maybe no.”

I let him lead me to the truck bed and sit me on the edge of the tailgate. “You did good,” I say quietly, tucking my legs up and scooting back.

“There’s still time to dismember you, for what that’s worth.”

“Such an idiot.” I laugh, clambering back onto the cushions.

“Yeah,” Aidan agrees, moving back too. He opens the pizza box before looking at me. And his eyes—there’s something, something warmer and softer and full of more emotion than I’ve ever seen before. “But for what this is worth, I’m totally your idiot now.”

“It could be worse,” I reason, grabbing a piece of pizza. “I mean, I could be yours.”

He smirks. “It’s cute that you think you aren’t.”

“Maybe I’m in denial.”

“Baby, you’re in so much denial you could swim in it.”

“Or maybe I’m teasing.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“Hey! That’s my line!” I throw a piece of pepperoni at him. “But yes. I guess, for all intents and purposes, I could be called yours.”

He snatches the pizza out of my hand and throws it into the box.

“I was gonna eat that!”

He pounces on me, shoving the box out of the way and scattering a cushion or two. I scream as he tugs me toward him and pushes me back simultaneously. He’s right on top of me, his arms tensed and biceps bulging, completely powerful and dominating. I take a deep breath when I look into his eyes, focused completely on me.

“Could be called mine?” he asks, one eyebrow quirking. “Yeah, sure. Could be—if by ‘could be’ you mean abso-fucking-lutely mine. As in mine now, tomorrow, quite possibly always. As in the only fucking girl I’ve ever run after and begged not to leave. As in the one person who’s ever wormed her way so fucking far under my skin that the mere thought of her smile not being the one I see every day makes me feel sick, then, sure, baby. Sure, you could be mine.”

“I guess when you put it like that . . .”

“Jessie,” he growls.

“Am,” I say, cupping his cheek with my palm. “Am yours,” I tell him.

He kisses me.

“Remember when you said you wanted to break me—just to know you could?” I breathe, and he stills. “You did. But maybe not in the way you think.”

“Breaking someone ain’t ever good, sunshine.”

“Unless you break someone and put them back together the way they should be,” I argue, scooting out from under him and sitting up. “In the waterpark, when you made me cry, that’s when you broke me. I don’t cry. I watched Marley & Me and felt mildly sad. And when Dobby died in Harry Potter? Or Snape? Yeah . . . My heart is kinda black. But you made me cry.”

“Not feeling reassured here.”

I laugh. “You made me feel, Ads. You made me feel so much I couldn’t stand to be around you, but you made me be. You chased me and never gave up. You were so determined to make me listen.”

“And that broke you?”

“Maybe break is the wrong word.” I run my teeth over my bottom lip. “You . . . rearranged . . . me. You took all my ideas about you and you totally obliterated them, but while you did that, you slotted in all your quirks and the things that make you, you. Kinda like Tetris.”

“Tetris?” his lips tug up.

“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “You turned everythin’ around until it just . . . fit.”

Falling in love is exactly like Tetris. Each piece that drops to the bottom of the screen is a quirk or idiosyncrasy or imperfection of each person, color coded, shaped awkwardly. Sometimes they fit and sometimes they don’t. That’s the beauty of the game.

In the end, though, each piece is designed to fit perfectly. And when they fit—they fit.

And you know what? True love should have some holes where the pieces don’t quite fit, because sometimes, you need a damn good argument—because then you get to make your pieces fit with makeup sex.

Aidan gets up and jumps over the side of the truck, landing with a thud on the ground. His profile is illuminated by the sun hovering midway to the horizon, painting the sky with light yellow streaks that are destined to bathe the beach with vibrant orange in no more than a few minutes.

“This,” Aidan says quietly. “This is your last surprise.”

“What is it?”

He emerges around the end of the truck, something hidden behind his back.

“Show me!”

“Come here.”

I crawl down the bed until I’m right in front of him, and kneeling, I meet his eyes. “Please.”

Slowly, he pulls that something from behind his back.

And that something is the most stunning bunch of flowers I’ve ever seen.

And every one—Every. Single. Fucking. One—means something to me.

I take a deep breath as I stare at the physical versions of the flowers permanently etched onto my arm. “Whoa,” I breathe.

He holds up his finger. “Lily,” he points to it, “Purity. Because deep down, that’s exactly what you are.” He moves to the daisy. “Before our night together, you held so much innocence about the crap we put up with every day. The daisy is for that—the innocence I took away from you.” His finger brushes the sunflower. “Dedication, right? It’s the physical, floral embodiment of mine to you. To make what was once a lie the realest thing you’ll ever have.”

I swallow back tears. Fuck, this man. He’s a walking tearjerker.

“Snapdragon. Like the one on your elbow that you open and close when no one is looking.” He half-smiles. “Strength . . . so you can deal with my life. The traveling, the constant attention, the crazy online keyboard warriors out to get you.”

I can’t help but smile, but I feel a little sick as he touches the red rose, bigger and brighter than the others, right in the middle.

“And a red rose . . .” he trails off, finger drifting right around the rose. “Love. Because somewhere along the way, I got lost in our lie. I got so far into the maze we created that I lost track of what was real and what wasn’t. Then, when I found the way out, I realized you were real all along. And the crazy red-haired, tattooed, take-no-shit, attitude-filled chick who refused to put up with my shit was making me fall in love with her. I’m pretty sure I passed through every level of hell on the way down, but I fell.” He pauses. “So the red rose is the way I love you. Vibrantly, brightly, but covered with more thorns than you deserve.”

I slide forward and cover his hands with mine so we’re both holding the flowers. Holy shit.

“There’s a song there somewhere,” I whisper, meeting his eyes over the flowers.

“Probably,” he agrees hoarsely.

I take the flowers from him and set them down gently next to me, then replace the emptiness between his fingers with my own. “I like your thorns,” I say quietly, seeing the orange hue of the sunset fall across the trees behind him. “If you look closely, there are thorns under my rose, because you can’t have a rose without thorns. You can’t have love without imperfections. So if I’m a rose and you’re my thorn, then I’m your thorn, too, because I’m certain I love you the very same way you love me. Vibrantly, brightly, and covered with more thorns than you deserve.”