Defining Love: Volume 2 (Defining Love #2) Read online

  “Your sister . . .” He paused for a moment as if to think about his next words. “You and her couldn’t have been too far apart in age, so I’m assuming she was young. Forgive me for asking, but I’m curious. How did she die? Was she sick?”

  My mouth fell open just slightly as I took in the unexpected question. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d prefer not to. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No,” I said, trying to smile reassuringly. “It’s been a few years. I’m okay talking about it now.” He stared at me but said nothing, so I continued, “It was a drug overdose. I didn’t even know she was doing drugs. She’d moved out on her own, and as close as we’d always been growing up, we’d actually begun to drift apart.” I glanced down at the small piece of paper I hadn’t even realized I’d been tearing into little pieces. “She lived with her boyfriend, and I assume he got her into it.” I tried not to sound as bitter as I’d been about it for so long. Then it suddenly dawned on me and I looked up at him, my eyes widening. “She was my age when she died. Nineteen.”

  Aaron said nothing, almost as if he knew I needed a moment to ponder that. I’d always felt as if my sister were so much older than me—so much more mature. I relied so heavily on her for years to comfort me because I saw her as the adult and me the child. She was so young. I couldn’t even imagine having the responsibility of such a needy younger sibling like me to deal with all alone. “You okay?” he asked, taking the seat next to me.

  I blinked, feeling the warmth of the tears that had begun to flood my eyes. “Yeah.” I nodded and glanced away, unable to look him in the eyes as the shame inundated me.

  I’d been so consumed at the time, feeling sorry for myself for having been abandoned by my sister, I never once stopped to think of what she must’ve been going through when she, too, was so young. At nineteen, I didn’t feel nearly strong enough to take on the weight of the world on my own as she’d done at an even younger age when our mother first left us.

  What I remembered most now about my last few conversations I had with her over the phone was her genuine enthusiasm about hearing things were going well for me and how well I’d begun to adjust. It was suddenly clear. That enthusiasm must’ve been equal amounts of relief. She finally didn’t have to feel so guilty about not being there one hundred percent for me. Gemma must’ve felt as godsent for her as she was for me. All that time I’d been so overwhelmed with hurt that she’d leave me, and it never once occurred to me that, for years, she’d been a child too: a child dealing with abandonment issues as I was but also with the added burden of having to be strong for the both of us.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Aaron’s touch to my arm made me recoil. “I’m sorry,” he said, jerking his hand away. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, no.” I shook my head, feeling mortified but at the same time barely able to breathe over the sudden revelation I’d just had. “I uh . . . I’m just . . .” I stood up quickly, not sure where I’d go, but I needed to get out of there. Just breathing was beginning to feel like a struggle. Aaron stood with me, the concern on his face more than apparent. “I need air,” I was finally able to gasp, and I rushed toward the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard.

  As soon as the chill of being outside hit my face, I felt a slight relief, but my chest still heaved as I gasped for air.

  “Relax,” Aaron said, his deep voice low and soothing. “Take long, deep, but slow breaths.”

  I did as he told me, and already I was feeling a tiny bit better, but I was also feeling unbelievably embarrassed. The last time I felt that close to losing it was days after Celia’s burial services when the numbness began to wear off and the reality that she was gone finally hit me. Gemma had been so close to calling 911.

  I must’ve looked ready to lose it again because Aaron stood before me and appeared ready to catch me if he had to.

  “Does this happen often?” he asked, searching my eyes but sounding very professional, and I could almost picture him in his firefighter uniform assisting and collecting information from a patient.

  “No.” I shook my head, glad that what I was sure the beginning of an anxiety attack seemed to be passing. “Not since my sister died. It’s been more than three years now. I’m so sorry—”

  “For what?” he asked, his brows coming together. “Don’t be sorry, Henrietta. This is normal. Just because it’s been a few years doesn’t mean you’re over something so traumatic. In my line of work, I see a lot of tragic loss and the calamity for the families left behind. It takes a long time for loved ones to be able to recover from such a sudden loss. Some never fully do. They just learn to deal with it, and the pain lessens over time, but don’t expect to ever get over it completely.” He reached over and touched me cautiously on the shoulder. “Obviously, you’re not there yet and that’s okay. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  I smiled, and for moment, I was tempted to tell him that it wasn’t the loss of my sister that had nearly sent me over the edge today but the realization that had suddenly hit me. But it felt too personal. I also didn’t need to mention that in my haste and nerves this morning I’d skipped breakfast and was already feeling the dizzying effects of it. Already, I’d freaked out on this man I hardly knew—my new boss—for what felt like the second time. I wouldn’t let him in on just how weak both mentally and physically the employee he’d just brought on board was. Something about those compassionate eyes made me want to share a little.

  “It’s just that . . .” I took a deep breath, incredibly relieved that I was at least feeling much calmer now. “You know how when you’re younger you think anyone a few years older is so much older than you?” He nodded with a gentle smile. “I thought my sister was so much older, and it just hit me how young she really was when she died.” Finally able to smile somewhat genuinely, I took in another deep breath. “I should get back to work. I’m better now.”

  “Don’t worry about getting back to work, Henrietta. Please. Take all the time you need.”

  I took another even deeper breath and shook my head. “No. I’m okay now,” I assured him, turning back toward the sliding door. “I promise.”

  “Hey,” he said, still holding on to my shoulder but very lightly. “I know we haven’t known each other very long and all, and this is probably something extremely personal for you, but if you ever need to talk, I want you to know that just like for Bea and Eileen, my door is always open. Okay?”

  I nodded, knowing full well that wouldn’t be happening. I was already embarrassed by my outburst. I didn’t need to further add to one of the first pitiful impressions he’d probably forever have of me.

  “Thank you,” I said and headed back into the house.

  Bea was back at her desk and peered at us curiously as we walked back in together, silently. Aaron’s cell phone rang as we headed back to my desk, and he pulled it out of his holster. His expression was a strange one when he glanced at the screen. “I have to take this,” he said a bit regretfully.

  I nodded and he hurried back to his office.

  “What were you doing outside?” Bea asked as I sat down.

  Not wanting to get into it about my sister again, I logged back onto my computer without looking at her and grabbed a granola bar out of my purse. “I just needed a little air.” I glanced up at her casually, but she said nothing.

  That night Bea took me home, even though I was supposed to stay later than she did and work a full shift. Aaron would’ve taken me home, but, apparently, that last call he had to take was from Mia, and he was forced to leave early. He didn’t seem too thrilled about it either. We all closed up shop early and headed out. On the way home, Bea once again brought up the subject of Aaron and Mia.

  “She’s mad at him,” she said simply then clarified who she meant and added in that same annoyed way she’d sounded earlier at his place, “Mia texted me just as I left for my walk to the corner and asked if I could talk, so I called her while I was out there. She be
gged me not to tell him, but she was crying.”

  This surprised me. I knew I hardly knew the guy, but I couldn’t imagine what he’d do to make her cry. He seemed so sweet and caring. Though I had been witness today, even if it was for only a fleeting moment, to his hardened side.

  “Why?” I asked, feeling a little nosey, but she’d brought it up, not me.

  “I’m telling you he’s totally neglected her lately. She said he’s blown her off twice in the past week, and she feels like ever since he proposed to her he’s using that ring on her finger as a get-out-of-jail-free card. She said she almost wishes he’d never proposed because things have only gotten worse since he did.” Beatriz glanced at me as we came to a red light. “She thinks maybe he’s found someone else. I know how busy he is, so I assured her there’s no one else. This business comes before everything to him right now. He’s up until the wee hours sometimes working, but I really hope he pulls his head out of his ass soon because she’s getting tired of it, and I don’t blame her at all.”

  I felt bad for Mia, but at least Aaron did the right thing and dropped everything when she called him. Granted, he didn’t look happy about having to do so, but that could’ve just been him being troubled that he’d upset her.

  Bea spoke a little more before we reached my apartment about how she was going to have a heart-to-heart with her brother and tell him maybe he should start wooing Mia again: send her flowers and what not to make up for what an asshole he’d been to her lately.

  “You must think I’m a busybody getting all up in my brother’s business,” Bea said as I opened the door to get out when we reached my place.

  I laughed, glancing back at her as she reached for her pack of cigarettes. “No, I don’t. It’s normal to worry about your brother.” With a lift of a brow, I gave her a scolding but playful look. “Just as he worries about his little sister smoking.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me with a smirk, and I thanked her for the ride. Edi had sloppy joes ready when I got home, which I devoured two of as I told her all about my first day at my new job. I left out my little outburst, and for some reason, I felt the need to leave out the stuff Bea had told me about Mia and Aaron. It felt too gossipy, and I didn’t want her to think I saw Aaron in any other way than a professional one. In the midst of him explaining his business, he’d also touched on the fact that, eventually, though he was hoping it was sooner than later, he wanted me to join him at one of his trade shows so I could learn the ropes. His hope was to train me and a few others to take over doing the shows for him.

  He said the shows were usually a whole weekend thing and often out of town. Just the thought of spending that much time alone with the man and even traveling with him made me feel things I knew I shouldn’t be feeling. Edi knew me too well, and I feared she might pick up on something, so I kept it to myself. I figured I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. For now, I could at least be honest about one thing. After just one day, I was extremely grateful I didn’t have to go back to my old job. Already I knew, unless I absolutely had to, there was no way I was going back to that godforsaken housekeeping job.

  Chapter 7

  Aaron

  I managed to calm Mia’s insecurities, which was new for me. Mia had never been an insecure girlfriend. I’d never known her to be an insecure person, period. In fact, it was one of the first things I remembered admiring about her most.

  Seeing her the night I left work early because she’d called me in tears was eye-opening. She’d been drinking and crying, two things I hadn’t seen her do often. And I’d never known her to drink alone, yet she confessed it was something she’d started doing lately.

  I hated that I knew I had a lot to do with that. While my conscience was clear in that her suspicions that I might be seeing someone else were way off, I knew her insecurities weren’t entirely imagined. She did throw it in my face that the ring I’d given her felt like a ploy—my way of getting her off my back.

  The guilt that she’d hit it right on the nose only worsened when she pointed out that, since the weekend I proposed over a month ago, I’d blown off seeing her so much we’d only made love once. Something I hadn’t even realized. I knew I’d been busy, and I could admit to myself that I’d been avoiding any talk of setting a date for the wedding, but I hadn’t intended for the extent of my avoiding that conversation to lead to this.

  I reasoned that my ability to go so long without sex without even noticing had been because of my distraction with my busier-than-usual life lately. The idea that my anticipation of seeing Henrietta again had anything to do with it was one I wouldn’t entertain. She hadn’t immediately agreed to working for me, so it’d been a few weeks of going back and forth with me asking Eileen or Bea as casually as I could if they’d heard back from her yet. Needing the extra help was all it was, and I was still trying to avoid hiring total strangers. The orders were still backed up, and knowing there was someone who was hoping to put in more hours than Bea and Eileen ever did was why I’d been anxious. That was it. She was someone whom both Eileen and Bea said was completely trustworthy and that—nothing else—had been behind my growing anticipation to bring her on board.

  I’d barely spoken to the girl and knew little about her. My interest in her was purely business related. Not that anyone was arguing this with me, but it was something I repeatedly reminded myself whenever I’d decided to ask Eileen or Bea if they’d heard anything more from her.

  Shaking away the bothersome thoughts, I focused on assuring Mia I was just extremely busy and that my marriage proposal was in no way a ploy. What started off as something that might’ve ended up in an nasty fight, ended with Mia and me in bed, and I spent the night at her place, something I hadn’t done in months. For the time being, I snuffed the flare of suspicion and my feelings of guilt, but it was fleeting. The guilt that is. Our night of makeup sex seemed to have helped Mia acquiesce to my explanation, at least for now, but I couldn’t help feeling I’d bought myself some more time. But time for what?

  The following two days I had to report to the station. So it was that long before I could get back home. By then, Henrietta had already been fully trained since she’d come in with Eileen and Bea both days and put in some hours.

  I was completely impressed by what an efficient worker she was. Within days, she’d burned through more than half the orders in the queues. She hadn’t been kidding when she said her previous job would make any job she got from then on feel glamorous and was extremely grateful now that she’d taken this one. So she said it’d been a breeze to blow through the orders.

  After only a couple of days working with her, it was becoming increasingly hard to not go out and visit with her every chance I got, especially after Eileen or Bea left for the day and on the days Henrietta worked alone. I kept my reasons for needing to go out and talk to her on a professional level. Each time I walked out of my office to check on her, I made sure there was a real reason and not just the alarmingly irrepressible temptation to talk to her—be near her.

  With every trip I made out of my office to chat with her, I knew full well that my reason for not being able to stay put was absolute bullshit. But I convinced myself fairly easily that it was normal to feel this way. As much effort as I put into keeping the conversation strictly business, somehow the conversations inevitably veered into our personal lives, and I was both fascinated and inspired by her fortitude despite all she’d gone through.

  On the other hand, the more she learned about the EPG and what else I was doing to further improve it, she seemed equally impressed. She hung on my every word when I went into detail about it. Details that once upon a time impressed Mia now seemed to annoy her, so I’d long ago stopped sharing them with her. Naturally, I’d feel drawn to talk to someone so interested in hearing about my passion. And Henrietta’s history, as personal as it seemed, was something she said, after years of going through the foster care system, she was used to talking about openly. I also convinced myself that what I was feeling f
or her after only a few days of working with her was nothing more than harmless admiration.

  I’d only driven her home twice, and tonight was the third time. I found myself driving slower than normal. I asked her about her major, which had her immediately scrunching her face.

  “What’s that about?” I asked with a chuckle, knowing full well I was smiling too damn big. The words you’re fucking adorable caught at the tip of my tongue.

  “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “I was so sure for so long that social work was what I wanted to do. I started my first semester all gung ho about it, and now I think I’m changing my mind. I’m really liking my psychology class, but at the same time, I know most people loathe having to do oral presentations. I actually enjoy doing them. One of my professors last semester was so impressed she actually asked if I’d ever considered teaching or even politics, something that requires a lot of public speaking, because I seem to have a gift for it.”

  “Are you serious? You like it?”

  “Yeah.” She laughed softly. “I know . . .weird . . . but if I’m sure I know what I’m talking about and I prepare very well when I do presentations, then I’m absolutely comfortable doing them. My roommate thinks I’m nuts because she hates to do them. She literally feels sick whenever she has to and avoids them at all costs. I have a friend who actually would rather take a zero even though she’s brilliant. But she says the very thought of getting up and speaking in public paralyzes her.”

  “Wow,” I said, still unable to believe my luck. “Do you know that’s the biggest issue I thought I might have in getting someone to eventually take over doing the trade shows or pitching the product to potential clients? Because you’re right. Most people hate that kind of stuff. I wonder . . .” I thought about it for a moment until I realized the red light we’d been sitting at had turned green, then started moving again.