19.1 Scarlett's Art Of Being One With Him

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He nods at last, causing my shoulders to relax and my heart to stop thumping so loud.

"Can you wait while I grab my stuff?" he asks. "Would you ... would you like to come in?"

Aiden's hesitancy is apparent not only from his tone but also from his expression, and I shake my head to relieve him of the pressure of inviting me in. Just because I was bold -- and somewhat dumb -- enough to show up at his house without intimation, he shouldn't have to worry about breing a good host.

His posture doesn't relax, though, and I can almost tell how many things are on his mind. Exhaling a heavy breath, he digs into his jeans pocket and pulls out a key holder with multiple keys.

"Wait in the car?" he suggests.

I nod again, taking the keys from him.

Shifting on his feet again, Aiden turns around and walks back into the house, leaving me to look around and pick up my bag which I had left at my feet.

"So, you're the reason Aiden lives in Boston?"

The question catches me off guard, and I look up to see a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway where Aiden had been just moments ago. Her brown hair tied back from her face, her light brown eyes narrowed at me, she stands there, watching me closely.

Even though I've never seen her before and Aiden doesn't resemble her much, I have a hunch the woman is Aiden's mother. Her manner of addressing me and her comfort in standing at her place, though, tells me she isn't particularly impressed by my appearance at her doorstep.

"No, ma'am," I say politely. "But Aiden is the reason I'll be living in Boston."

Her lips part in surprise, either at my words or the bluntness with which I have uttered them. Either way, I've already dealt with one disapproving mother today and do not have the time and patience for another.

"Why can't you just let him stay here?" the lady asks, sounding not angry but simply defeated. Her eyes are sad, her lips curled down. "We're his family and we --"

"Star." Aiden appears beside his mother, glancing at her before looking at me again. He's wearing a jacket and shoes, carrying a bottle of water and his wallet in one hand. He holds out a hand to take the keys back from me, looking at his mother.

"Can't you stay the night?" she asks him. "Your friend can stay at a motel tonight."

Aiden doesn't look particularly happy with the idea, stepping forward and grabbing the bag I'm holding.

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