Two weeks. Two weeks passed, and Aiden never returned those three words. When I realised the weight they carried and the way Aiden looked at me when I'd said them, all the air was sucked out of the room, even the breath sitting at the bottom of my lungs. And two weeks later, I was on the phone with my mother.
"Merry Christmas, Emma," my mother's voice rattled in my ear.
"Merry Christmas, mom." I returned, comforted by the sound of her voice emitting from my phone.
"I know we aren't on the best terms right now, but I want you to have fun at dinner with your father. None of this is his fault." I inhaled sharply at the use of words.
Our relationship was fragile, but hearing her take the blame for everything as if my father had no part in it, sent a wave of something disturbing through me.
She went on, "Please, don't let my decisions ruin what relationship you have built with him. It's Christmas, don't worry about anything right now. We can talk after the holidays."
I sighed and agreed. No later did she end the call with her usually sweet goodbye. I scrolled through my phone, tapping on Barbara's name and watching as the screen darkened to the phone's ringtone. It was on the third ring that she picked up her phone.
"Emma?" her tone was low, like she had woken from a nap.
"I'm sorry. I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No, no. Is everything okay?" A ruffling echoed in the background.
"Yes, everything is fine," I told her. "I was just wondering if your invitation for Christmas dinner is still open?"
"Oh! Yes! Of course." She boomed into the microphone. "I'll add an extra plate at the table for you."
I bit my bottom lip, worrying the skin. "Actually, can you make it two extra plates?"
There was thin silence. "Is someone coming with you?" Her voice lowered in a curious yet endearing tone.
"I was hoping to take my...." What was I supposed to call Aiden? A friend? My boyfriend? "A boy." Oh, dear god.
"A boy?" She made a strange sound that resembled something of a gasp or a cough. "Is this boy a friend or... more?"
"Yes," I answered briskly. I did not want to have this conversation, let alone over the phone, while I waited outside the coffee shop.
She chuckled softly and then cleared her throat. "Of course, I can add an extra plate for him." A short pause. "What's his name?"
"Aiden," I picked at a loose string of my jumper. "His name is Aiden."
"Aiden," She repeated, testing out the name for herself. "Is he handsome?"
"What time should I be there?" I changed the subject quickly with the clearing of my throat. She did not press for my answer.
"Eight p.m.," she said lightly. "I look forward to seeing you two tonight."
I shifted from one foot to another. "Should I bring something?"
"Oh, there's no need, honey. I'll see you in a few hours."
Like my mother, she said her goodbye and ended the phone call.
"Everything okay?" Aiden appeared beside me, carrying two cups of coffee each hand.
I nodded and managed a smile.
The truth? No, everything was not okay. Ever since I pronounced those three words, a tightness sat in my chest, unmoving. It settled there like one settles into a new home. In return, Aiden had only kissed me with tenderness, keeping me on his lap for a while longer. We talked about different things happening in our lives, but not once did he reciprocate the words.
I tried not to focus on that memory. After all, actions speak louder than words, and Aiden's efforts hadn't changed. They were still as affectionate as ever, though I found myself wishing – on more than one occasion – that I hadn't said anything at all. I had been swept by the moment of being so close to him, of his sweet confessions.
Those damn three words.
"I just called Barbara." I took a cup from his hand. "She said we're both welcome at dinner tonight." I quickly added, "It's at eight. Is that okay? Are you sure you still want to come? You'll be meeting a part of my family... I don't if you-"
"Tonight. At eight," He repeated. "I'll be there to pick you up." He placed a hand at the small of my back as we began walking, sipping his drink. "Do I need to wear a suit?"
"I don't think there's a dress code," I shrugged. "You could come in sweatpants if you really wanted to."
"I'm not going to meet your family in sweatpants, Emma." The top corner of his lips twitched into a smile.
I bit back a smile of my own. "I'm just saying you can go in whatever you like."
He glanced at me from the black lid of his coffee cup. His smile turned into a smirk.
"What?"
"Nothing." He chuckled under his breath.
His hand on my back slid to my waist until it dropped to his side. His touch was gone.
***
The house was just as big and winsome as I remembered it. Its dark oak door was polished and shiny. Aiden I walked up the driveway together, hands brushing together as he held small baked goods from the bakery we stopped by.
I held the newly acquired book and a monster truck encased in festive wrapping paper in my spare hand. It didn't feel right to show up empty-handed on Christmas, especially since this was our first Christmas together and, hopefully, not our last.
"You really didn't have to wear a suit." I tried not to ogle him the whole drive over. But with Aiden in a tight dress shirt, defining each arm muscle, and the way his slacks were snug on his waist, it was an impossible task.
"By the way you're looking at me, I'm very glad I did." His dimples pinned his smug smile.
We climbed the slabs of stones leading up to the two front doors. Two wreaths were hung on either one. Christmas lights were strung between the white pillars.
Introducing Aiden to the father I was only just beginning to build a relationship with made me more nervous than I thought it would. I ran my hands down the length of my thin dress, flattening the non-existent wrinkles.
As if he knew, Aiden stepped closer to my side and kissed my temple. "You look beautiful, sweetheart."
A sweetened heat blossomed in my chest. Somehow, he still managed to be my comfort, giving me the courage to press the doorbell.
He pulled back and looked at the large plants and the fountain in the centre of the driveway.
"Big house," Aiden noted.
"It's a little intimidating," I admitted. "I'm still not used to it myself."
Aiden turned his head to meet mine. "Emma, about the other day... when you said-"
Whatever he was about to say, he was interrupted by the large door sweeping open. Barbara stood there with a giant grin pointed at me. She pulled me into a quick hug. Her eyes practically sparkled at the sight of Aiden.
"You must be Aiden." Her eyes ran down the length of him in a suit. When her eyes returned to me, she gave a subtle smile with raised brows.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs Adams." He stated cleanly. Whatever nerves swarmed inside him did not show. Instead, he lifted the box of baked goods gracefully, confidently. "We weren't sure if you would like these, but they're supposed to be great."
Her expression turned curious before settling back to its usual tenderness. "That is very sweet of you both, thank you." She took the box in her hands. "And please, call me Barbara." She waved her hand to gesture us inside.
Aiden waited for me to walk in first before following suit. Barbara shut the door and walked us through the foyer into the kitchen. Gabriel was hunched over in a chair at the end of the spaced hallway, scribbling something on a page.
"Gabriel," Barbara called. "Look who's here."
Gabriel's head lifted reluctantly from the page. His mop of hair swayed as his head spun quickly. The scowl he had immediately turned into a boyish grin with widened eyes. "Emmy?"
"Hi, Gabe." I matched his grin as he hopped off his tall chair. He almost fell running to me on slippery socks. He smacked into my legs, tiny arms wrapping around my waist. I bent down and lifted him up in my arms. He was a little larger than I'd last seen him, but I welcomed him anyway.
"I missed you," He mumbled into my neck.
I chuckled at the sound. "I missed you too." I adjusted my grip. "I brought you something."
His head pulled back quickly, eyeing at what was in my hands. I put him back on the ground and bent down to his height. I held out the two gifts in front of us.
"For me?" His voice was small.
"Merry Christmas, Gabriel," I said as he took the gifts.
His small hands quickly unwrapped the first gift. "You got me monster truck?"
My heart picked up its pace. "Do you like it?"
"I love it!" He squealed. Once more, his hands draped around my neck, almost tipping me off balance. "What's the other?"
"Open it."
His shaky hands latched onto the tape used to hold the paper together. He carefully pulled back the tape, making sure not to tear the paper just like I did.
"He's just like you." Aiden voiced my thoughts.
I smiled up at him, but when I returned to look at Gabriel, he looked upset. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know you," Gabriel glared at Aiden. I had never seen the expression on him before.
"Gabriel, this is Aiden." I introduced them. "Aiden, this is Gabriel."
"Are you Emmy's boyfriend?"
I choked on a breath of air.
Aiden was frozen in place, staring as if he didn't know what to do.
"Do you like monster trucks?" He arched a defensive brow.
Aiden looked at me for help, but I was occupied muffling a series of chuckles.
"I... guess?" Aiden replied.
"Which one is your favourite?" Gabriel inquired him intensely, and I snorted at the look of hopelessness plastered on Aiden's face. He was being interviewed by my eight-year-old brother.
"That one." Aiden pointed to the truck in Gabriel's hands.
Gabriel followed his line of sight and scowled further with disappointment. "You have bad taste."
I covered my mouth with my hands to stop my laughter, but cackles escaped me. No one ever dared to insult Aiden in any way, yet Gabriel made it seem so effortless.
Aiden stared at me as I stood up straight, recovering from my fit of laughter. "Gabriel, what were you doing just now?"
Gabriel spun his head back to his page on the kitchen island. "I was writing. My teacher gave us homework."
Aiden's brows knotted together. "Who gives out homework during Christmas?"
Gabriel squinted his eyes at Aiden. "My teacher. I just said so." Gabriel turned to face me. "Does he have hearing problems?"
I snickered and looked away from Aiden. I couldn't bear to see what expression he wore.
"Emma," Barbara called from the heavily decorated kitchen. "Sam is in the dining room if you'd like to talk with him. I'm sure he'd love to meet your... Aiden." She corrected herself.
I nodded and ruffled Gabriel's hair. "Open the other present and get back to me. If you don't like it, we can swap it out for another."
He took his seat once more as I showed Aiden the way to the dining room.
"I don't think your brother doesn't like me very much," Aiden stated.
"I don't think he's a fan of strangers." I glanced over at him. "I'm sure he'll warm up to you when he gets to know you. It might speed things up if you bribe him with books and monster truck merchandise."
He cracked a smile. "I'll keep that in mind next time."
Next time. There was going to be a next time. I smiled to myself.
When we reached the room, the table was decorated with red napkins, lights, two vases and decorative plates.
My father was seated at the head of the table. He looked up from his computer and immediately rose to his feet, hands flat on the surface. His hair was neatly styled back, and the wrinkles on his forehead eased.
"Hi, Sam." I smiled softly as he made his way around the wooden furniture to stand a few feet away from Aiden and me.
His smile was genuine, though he looked tired. "Aiden, am I right?"
"Yes, it's nice to meet you." Aiden nodded in the same polite tone he used with Barbara.
"Likewise." My father extended his hand out to formally greet him. Aiden stiffened beside me. He carefully eyed the hand, then hesitantly wrapped his hand around his with a firm shake. It was awkward and short. When Aiden took his hand back, he shoved it deep in his pocket, but I was the only one that seemed to notice.
They both cleared their throats at the same time.
"Emma, I have something for you." My father opened his jacket and reached into the pocket. "Merry Christmas."
I accepted the thin white envelope. "What is it?"
"It's a letter. Read it in your spare time." He gave me another smile. "I have to finish up a few work details, but you can both take your seats if you like." He added, "It was nice to meet you, Aiden. We'll talk more soon."
Aiden inclined his head to nod.
We rounded the table to get to our seats. Aiden pulled out my chair before his own, sitting down once I had done so first.
My father hacked away at his computer, fingers rushing over the keyboard. When Gabriel strolled in, the book I gifted him in hand, he chose the seat in front of me. He briefly looked at Aiden. Then, he spoke to me about the book, asking the questions of a curious student.
"Gabe, put the book down." Barbara entered the room, hands crowded with plates of food. "Emma, there are a few more plates in the kitchen. Do you mind helping me?"
I nodded and stood up, brushing my hand with Aiden's shoulder. Heat instantly rushed to my chest when his grey eyes locked with mine.
"Let me know if you need anything," he said.
I followed Barbara out to the kitchen. There were five food-covered plates lined up on the counter. Everything looked delicious.
This was nothing like Christmas with my mother. We never had this much food in our house during the year, let alone for a single dinner. I didn't focus on the thought for very long.
"Aiden seems like quite the gentleman." Barbara peeked at me over her shoulder as she cut a loaf of bread.
"He is." I smiled. "Are these plates ready?"
"Yes." She twisted around to wipe her hands on a cloth. "Are you happy, Emma?"
I tilted my head to the side. I hadn't thought about that question much. I never had time to think about it in a very long time. Between taking care of my mother, school, and now a job, I didn't have to focus on my happiness. But as I thought about Barbara's question, all I could think about was Aiden. No one made me laugh like he did. No one listened to me like he did.
"He makes me happy," I confessed.
"Good." She smiled knowingly. "That's the only thing that matters."
I piled the two plates into my hands and carried them over to the dinner table. Every part of the house had some sort of Christmas flavour, whether it was the green wreaths on the door or the small snowman figurines placed on the hallway table.
When I entered the room, my father was no longer on his computer. Gabriel had placed his book face down, and Aiden was relaxed against his chair, though his shoulders remained stiff.
Barbara joined us all, carrying the last of the food.
"Everything looks amazing, sweetheart." My father grinned at Barbara, pulling out her chair before she sat down next to him. Aiden observed their interaction like he was dissecting it, second by second.
"Do we have to say grace?" Aiden whispered into my ear.
I shook my head. "Not that I know of."
He hummed. "Good, because I don't know how to say grace."
I bit the inside of my cheek with a smile. Everyone started piling food on their plates. Barbara's cooking outdid itself every time I had dinner here – despite only coming here twice.
Gabriel filled his crystal glass with apple juice. Aiden did the same, copying Gabriel's movement. I could see the way my brother took note that they both liked apple juice.
With our glasses filled, my father raised his. "Merry Christmas, everyone."
"Merry Christmas," we all repeated in unison.
I watched Aiden take his first bite of food. Then the second and then the third. Every time he swallowed, his throat bobbed.
"What?" He stopped chewing, and I laughed.
"Nothing."
He glimpsed at my plate, frowning. "You haven't touched your food."
"Watching you eat is far too fascinating." I grinned.
He shook his head. "You haven't eaten anything since breakfast." He lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "Please eat something."
"So, Aiden," My father began as Aiden watched me take my first bite of food. Whatever tension he had in his shoulder left him. "What are your intentions with Emma?"
Oh, God.
Just as fast, the tension in his shoulders returned. He lowered his utensils on the plate and swallowed his mouthful of food. "My intentions?"
"Yes." My father's voice took on a more serious tone. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"
Suddenly, this became an interrogation.
"Sam-" I started to interject when Aiden spoke up.
"I want to make her happy."
I stilled in my chair, my gaze falling on his profile.
"What is it you're studying, Aiden?" Barbara cut in.
"A bit of everything," he said.
"You don't have a major?" My father asked, taking a bite of chicken.
"No, I don't have a major yet. I'm still going through my options before I decide anything."
Barbara perked up. "I think that's a great idea. Better to play the field."
I took a sip of apple juice at the same time as Gabriel.
"What about family? Are they upset you aren't spending Christmas with them?" My father inquired once again. It was meant as a general, light conversation, but Aiden was completely tense. Finally, his hands fell to his lap, free from everyone's view except mine.
Aiden's jaw twitched. "No."
"Are you close with your parents?" Barbara stole a loaf of bread from the centre of the table.
Aiden reached for his glass of apple juice, but when the liquid began to rattle in his grip, almost spilling over the table, he placed it back down and returned his hands back to his lap. "Not particularly."
"Does your mother hang up decorations during the holidays?"
All of these were generic questions, but Aiden was not generic.
The next time I glanced over, his hands were trembling wildly against his thighs. Fingers dug into his slacks until knuckles turned white. Aiden's breathing turned shallow while his mouth clenched shut, and I knew he was on the brink of a panic attack.
My stomach rolled over at the thought of him suffering like that again.
"I was thinking of taking up an art class," I announced. I wasn't really, but I hoped it would be enough to distract them from Aiden so he could recover.
"Really? What kind of art?" Gabriel spoke for the first time since we all sat down.
I thought of something on the spot. "Drawing and art."
As I hoped, everyone veered into the conversation of art, talking about what kind they preferred, whether portraits or landscapes, abstract or realism.
Warmth crept into my palm as I smiled along with Barbara's conversation. The touch was soft, shaky, and effortlessly glided through my fingers. When I looked down, Aiden's fingers were locked around mine. They trembled a little less.
My gaze sank into Aiden's profile. His eyes were shut, but his breathing was slowly returning to normal. I stared at where our hands joined for the longest time, refusing to believe he was holding my hand.
Would it be too much if I gave it a gentle squeeze? Would he take it back if I placed my other hand on top? Would we ever hold hands again?
"Emma?" My father's voice drew me back to the conversation at hand. "What do you think?"
I scanned the room nervously. "Think about what?"
Barbara chuckled. "Painting. For or against?"
I opened my mouth to answer when a tightness caged the hand around Aiden's. His eyes were on me, soft and tender at the corners. I didn't want to look away. I didn't want to pull my hand out of his ever again. I was savouring something as small as holding hands. But it wasn't small. To me, it was everything.
***
The drive back to the frat house was silent. The streets were almost empty from the cold weather and festivities. The radio was switched off, and the soft engine barely made a sound as we neared the driveway.
Our hands were still joined on over the gearbox.
They hadn't parted since they first intertwined. And I wished it to last forever. I never wanted to let go because I was afraid it would never happen again. I wanted to hold onto his touch. I wanted to hold onto him for as long as he let me. But as the engine died, so did the warmth between us.
He pulled his hand from mine, and even though I knew it would happen eventually, I wasn't ready for when it did. The loss felt far too heavy in my chest. Perhaps it wasn't the act of holding hands itself. Perhaps it was what it represented. He had chosen to give me his hand when he felt like he was losing control. And I thought that I could deal with that. I thought a lack of touch wouldn't be so significant, but humans are built to live off it. Without it, we wither. And now that he had let go, I knew it wouldn't happen again no matter how much I wished it.
The first time we hugged was for him. The first time we held hands was for him. But none of it was for me. I couldn't wrap my arms around his neck from joy or seek comfort in his arms when I cried because he would remind me every time that it was one of his conditions.
I felt guilty for wanting more. We both agreed on the terms. We both started this relationship knowing what we couldn't do. He had upheld my condition, but the more I wanted to be with him - the more I began to love him - I realised I couldn't uphold his terms.
I knew it wasn't fair. I knew I should be patient, and I wanted to. Because for him, I would do almost anything. But the moment he let his hand slip from mine, it felt like I had lost something I never had. Like I got to feel something so incredible for only a moment before it was torn from my grasp.
I didn't know what hurt more. I knew I was in love with him for a while, but I couldn't bring myself to admit it. And when I did, when I finally said the words out loud, they were met with silence. An invisible brick wall like the countless others Aiden placed between us.
After all this time together, I started to trust Aiden. I began to trust my feelings around him. But there was always a 'what if' circling the back of my head. What if I held his hand? What if I hugged him? What if he could love me back?
But there was a short answer to those questions: Aiden would always pull away.
I wasn't fully aware we'd made it into Aiden's room until the door shut behind me.
"Emma?" His voice sounded distant in my head.
I stared at the palm he had touched, running the tips of my fingers over the cold skin, then looked up to meet his eyes. "Why did you hold my hand?"
I wasn't sure what I was expecting to hear from him. The idea that he held my hand for comfort was both bitter and sweet. And it was likely the most probable option. I should have been happy that he even touched my hand in the first place, but instead, I found myself feeling the opposite.
Maybe if he hadn't held my hand, I wouldn't be questioning our relationship. I wouldn't be questioning us. Instead, I would kiss him and fall asleep like any other night.
His brows had furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing, I'm fine." I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he didn't believe it.
"I told you not to do that." He stepped toward me, lifting his hand to my face, but I cowered away.
"Please, don't..." I barely whispered. The frown that formed on his face and the flash of hurt lacing in his eyes was like a knife to the heart. I was putting distance between us. I was pushing him away because I needed to think.
"Emma," My name came out quietly from his lips, full of desperation. "What is going on?"
A thickness formed in my throat, covering all the words I wanted to say.
He stood there, defeated as he waited for my reply. His shoulders slumped; his head hung low. "Is this about the other day? I thought we were fine... I thought-"
"Yes, well, you thought wrong." My voice wavered.
"I don't understand. What happened between dinner and now that changed? Why are you pulling away from me like you can't stand the sight of me?"
I shook my head, trying to get my feelings and thoughts in order. "Aiden, I don't- I can't...."
"You can't what?" His eyes searched mine, and something shifted into place inside me.
"I can't do this with you anymore." The words tumbled out of me like they'd been wedged there for a long time. "I thought I could, I thought that I could be in this relationship with you and... and be okay with not holding your hand or being able to hug you. I thought those things didn't matter because I had you. But I don't. I don't have you. There is nothing I can do anymore because you don't tell me why your family causes you so much pain. Because every time we touch, it is for your needs, not mine. I am there every damn time you need me. I am there because I love you, and I don't want to pretend like I never said those words to you. You made me love you and trust you, Aiden. But you can't even say those three words back. And I thought I could be fine with that, but I'm not." A fierce sting pricked at my eyes. "It just hurts. It constantly hurts to act like your rejection didn't make me feel pathetic because it did. You say you have those conditions because you don't want to hurt me, but I don't even know what that means!" I sigh frustratedly. "I don't know how else to prove that you can trust me. I have shown you everything I have, and it's still not enough. I can't give you more because there is nothing else for me to give. I'm sorry if I'm not enough. I'm sorry if I can't be what you need. And I'm sorry if you can't love me. But I love you. And until tonight, I thought that was enough."
By the time I finished talking, my throat hurt, my tears had stained my cheeks and blurred my vision, and every piece of my heart shattered on the floor.
And he just looked at me.