Love Me

He opens the fridge and looks inside. “You're prepared.”

“Yeah, I wasn't sure what you'd want to do, so I ordered in a bunch of food.”

He grabs an apple, takes a big bite out of it, and shuts the door. “Let's see everything else, then we’ll decide.”

“This was another big selling point,” I say, leading him out the door off the kitchen. “Outdoor space is hard to find, so this made up for the fact that it isn't on Park Avenue.”

“My sister told me about the hot tub. Love the outdoor space. Show me your room.”

My room.

My bed.

I lead him into the bedroom, where he lets go of my hand to check it out. First, he peeks in the bathroom. "So you've never taken a bath in here?"

“No, not yet.”

“We’ll add that to the list.”

“The list?”

“Yeah, of the things we’re going to do this weekend. This your closet?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts of him lying naked on my furry rug.

I nod as he opens the door. He steps in and then turns and grins at me. “This has to be your favorite room in the house.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It just feels different. Has a different vibe.”

“I had it decorated exactly like my closet at home.”

Aiden is listening but he's also poking through the closet. Looking at the shoes I bought last time I was here but didn’t take back to school. Some basics I ordered online just in case I ever have to leave everything at school and run. He glances at the book of Keats’ poetry that’s lying on the table next to my chaise, not knowing that the four-leaf clover he gave me is safely pressed inside.

“You don't have any pictures of your family,” he states.

“I haven't had the chance to add many personal touches yet.” I open a drawer and pull out a small silver frame. “This is me holding my little sister when she was born.”

He takes the frame out of my hand and studies it. “She's tiny and adorable. You look young.”

“It was three years ago. Thanks for encouraging me to go to her party. I’m so glad I didn’t miss it.”

He flashes me a beaming smile, hands me back the photo, then makes a beeline for the long burgundy dress I bought when we went shopping for Homecoming. “What's this for?”

“Oh, I don't know. I found it when we were shopping for court dresses. I'm saving it.”

“You do that, don't you?”

“Do what?”

“Buy clothes in the hopes that you'll have somewhere perfect to wear them. Like the dress you were saving for Paris.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“You're hopeful. Optimistic. I like that about you. What about these?” He points to a shoebox as he pops off the lid. “Why are these in their box and not displayed on the shelves with the others?”

He pulls out the shoes I was wearing when Vincent tried to kidnap me. A lump forms in my throat and I can't reply.

"Oh. This one’s broken,” he says. “What happened?”

 I’m trying to think up a lie when a note falls off the shoe.

Aiden picks it up and reads it aloud. “I thought you needed to be reunited with footwear that is the real you.  -G. Who's G?”

“Garrett. My um, uncle. You met him at Homecoming.”

“Why does he think a broken shoe is the real you?”

Seeing Aiden holding my shoe makes me long for the white knight. For the prince who kills the dark man. The prince who saves me.

“I was kinda nervous when I came to Eastbrooke. You know, wondering if I'd fit in.”

“So he sent you broken shoes?”

Fuck. Why does Aiden have to ask so many questions? Dawson never thought twice about the shoes or my closet.

“They are my favorite shoes ever,” I answer honestly, as I take the shoe out of his hand and put it back in the box. “I wore them at my 17th birthday party. But then I got, um, drunk and fell and broke the heel and I just . . .”

I can't do it. I can’t stand here and lie to Aiden’s face.

Lying to him hurts me.

Literally, physically hurts me.

“Anyway, you haven't seen the upstairs yet. Come on.” I tear out of my closet, praying he will follow me and forget about the shoes.

He does.

We climb the stairs. Since it’s dark, the stars are glowing. And they are everywhere. I think the designer went a little overboard, but they’re amazing. I love them.

Aiden pulls me onto the chaise with him. “Look at that,” he says, pointing. “There's a moon over there in the corner.”

“I never told them to put up a moon.”

“It probably came in the packet. One came in mine.”

“Why didn't you put it up?”

“I figured it'd get lost in all the stars.” He leans me back and kisses me.

Another perfect kiss.

I run my hands through the back of his hair and kiss the side of his face.

He stops kissing me and pulls me up off the couch. “You need to go change.”

“Like into something more comfortable?” Oh, yippee-freaking-yay!

“No, like into that dress you were saving.”

“Why?”

“It's a surprise. Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes.”

“Ten. If I'm go

He nods in agreement and heads down the stairs.

I run in my bedroom, touch up my makeup, throw my hair back into a messy bun, slide on the dress, add some strappy heels, and head back out to the kitchen just in time to watch Aiden popping a bottle of champagne.

He hands me a flute and clinks my glass. “Here’s to not waiting for a rainy day.”

“You look nice,” I say, knowing it’s an understatement as I take in his black suit and black shirt. I've never seen him wearing all black. It makes him look a little dangerous. Especially with the naughty gleam in his eyes.

He grabs my hand, leads me to the door, and says, “Our car’s here.”

We go outside and get into a big black limo.

“Where are we going?”

He pulls me into his arms. “You’ll see.”

Soon, the car pulls up to the Empire State Building. I smile. “Are we going to the top?”

“We are.”

He pushes me into the corner of the elevator and gives me a kiss. A kiss that I can feel all the way to the tips of my Louboutin-encased toes. A kiss that has way more tongue than is appropriate for a crowded elevator.

“That's because you look beautiful,” he whispers in my ear.

I slide my hands inside his jacket, feeling like I just stole a cookie.

Aiden holds my hand tightly as the elevator dings and we file out.

I love how small my hand feels in his. And the possessiveness and control I feel in his firm grip.

He leads me to an empty spot at the railing, where he stands directly behind me, whispering in my ear and pointing out lights I should look at.

But I’m focused on our hands.

It's hard to feel where my hand ends and his begins.

They are interlaced. Entwined.

My ruffled dress is blowing in the wind and I feel like I belong on a movie set.

Aiden squeezes my hand. “I think the guy next to us is getting ready to propose. I’m go

He grabs his phone out of his pocket and presses record. He holds me tight, keeps his mouth next to my ear, and gives me a play-by-play in his deep, sexy voice.

His breath tickles my ear. “He's so nervous. Look how he keeps smoothing out his jacket. I bet the ring’s in his pocket there. Oh. Look. He's grabbing both of her hands.”

“Shhh. I want to hear what he says.”

“Lisa, my butterfly,” the man says in a strong, confident voice. He may have been nervous before, but the strength in his voice tells me that whatever else he’s about to say, he means. Deeply. “You’ve made the world as I used to know it uninhabitable. I’m not the same man you met a year ago today. You've turned my life upside down and turned this cynic into a lovesick fool. With you, the sun shines brighter, food tastes better, and I'll never be able to go back to my old world. I need you to marry me. Save me. Have my babies. Grow old with me.”