No Kissing Allowed (No Kissing Allowed #1)(42)

She pulled me into a hug and began to sob. “Mom. Please. It’s okay.”

Finally, Eric came in and took Mom out of my arms and told me where to find his keys. I wanted to get showered up, but Mom was already so upset. I didn’t want to cause another meltdown by taking too long, and I had no idea how long the cobbler would take to cook. So instead, I darted upstairs and changed my pajama pants for jeans and tossed my hair into a ponytail, then raced back down to find Aidan standing beside the front door, freshly showered and wearing dark jeans and an ivory pullover that set off the golden tones in his skin so perfectly he looked like an angel sent down to guide me through the crazy. Or at least drive me to the store.

“We have an emergency.”

“I heard,” he said, brushing flour from the tip of my nose. “Where do you need me?” he asked, now for the second time, making my heart warm.

I reached for his hand. “Right with me.”

Parking outside the closest grocery store, I bolted inside with Aidan without thinking to check my reflection in the mirror. But it was Thanksgiving Day, and the store was only open until noon. No one would be out. Hopefully. Else Pastor Wilkins might call my parents and claim I needed an intervention. We rushed inside and separated, Aidan saying he wanted to grab some Advil while I found the flour. I began reading the aisle headers in search of it when I heard my name called from behind.

Crap.

I spun around, prepared to give a quick hello-I’m-in-a-hurry sort of greeting, when my gaze locked on the one person I’d prayed I wouldn’t see. Blaine.

My mouth gaped as my brain searched for a reply. He looked exactly like I remembered. Wavy brown hair, deep green eyes, the sort of smile of orthodontists’ dreams. I glanced down at my wrinkled jeans and Rolling Stones T-shirt. Dear God, this wasn’t happening.

“Hey,” I managed to say, because the only other option was to run from the store, but then I wouldn’t have the damn flour, and this horror would all be for nothing.

He smiled, his gaze drifting down my clothes before returning to my face. “I’m guessing you’re at home for Thanksgiving?”

“Guilty.” I tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a strangled cough. Just then a brunette walked up to him, her eyes drifting from me to Blaine in question.

“Oh, sorry. Kristin, this is Cameron.”

Ah, Kristin. The fiancée. We were only broken up for six months before I was replaced. Three months later they were engaged. It was like something out of a cheesy romantic comedy. Or a horror film.

She looked at me, and then realization hit her and her smile turned tight. “Right. It’s nice to meet you.” She took in my outfit as Blaine had and I could tell it took effort for her to keep from grimacing. Well, there went the last bit of my dignity.

“Got it!”

I spun as Aidan came out of the aisle, flour in one hand, Advil in the other. “Hey! Aidan! This is Blaine and Kristin!” Why was I speaking in shrill? There should be rules against this kind of encounter. Like check-ins at the entrance. No ex-boyfriends allowed.

Aidan looked quizzically at me, then reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

We stood in awkward silence for a beat, rocking on our heels, no one sure of what to say next, when finally I tapped the flour. “Um, we have a flour situation back at the house, so we better…” I motioned toward the register, and Blaine nodded.

“Right. Of course. Well…it was nice seeing you.”

I took him in once more. “You, too.”

“Ex?” Aidan asked as we slipped back into the car and started back to my house.

I nodded. “The ex. Four years together.”

Aidan went quiet.

“He broke it off senior year, then nine months later he and Kristin were together and engaged.”

“So they were together before?”

Shrugging, I went on. “Maybe. He’s a good guy, though. I don’t think he would have cheated. Who knows. I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Do you still love him?”

The question caught me off guard. Aidan and I never talked about our romantic pasts. I had no idea if he’d ever had a serious girlfriend, though with his issues with his father I doubted it.

“I’m not sure I ever did, which was maybe part of the problem. We didn’t love each other. Not like you should to make a relationship work. Certainly not enough for marriage.”

“What about before him?”

I swallowed, thinking back to high school. “Kyle Black. We were together a year. He played football and I cheered. It was very high school.”

We stopped at a traffic light and he looked over, his expression unreadable. “You’ve only ever had serious relationships?”

I shrugged again. “I like the idea of forever.” At this I met his gaze, unwilling to be ashamed of what I wanted in life. Whatever we were didn’t change my hopes for my future. But I had to ask. “You’ve never had one?”

The light turned green. “I’ve never wanted one.”

“Right.”

A part of me wanted to ask more, see if he’d ever met someone who tested his resolve. Tell him he was nothing like his father, surely he was his mother made over, but how could I say any of those things? I knew I walked a dangerous line here, my mind and my heart arguing over how to handle this relationship, and I knew somewhere deep in the shadows of my heart I thought I could change his mind. This, us, could change his mind.