“Oh, wow. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “It was a long time ago.”
I had been twenty-five when my father died. It had been so hard on me—I couldn’t imagine losing him when I was still a teenager. I knew through my father’s stories how difficult it was on a child when a parent was lost, and the child was still young.
That brought me to another question.
“So, um…how old are you?” I asked.
“Twenty-seven,” Aiden replied. “You?”
“The same,” I said with a smile. “I’ll be twenty-eight in November.”
“What date?”
“November fourth.”
“Hmm.” Aiden raised his eyebrows and smiled wickedly. “An older woman. I have to wait until the twenty-seventh.”
“You make me sound dirty,” I said with a laugh.
“Well, I’ve never dated an older woman before,” Aiden said. “This is a whole new territory for me. I’m a little intimidated.”
“You?” I crossed my arms in front of me. “Intimidated?”
“Oh, yes,” he said with a serious nod. “Women are scary anyway, but an older one?”
“I’m sure I’m just terrifying.”
“You are.” He shuddered, and we both laughed.
I was glad his mood had lightened although I couldn’t help but wonder what the phone call had been about. Was it one of his drug dealer associates? Was there some big deal about to go down, and something wasn’t right about it?
Was I really thinking this way?
I never should have gotten on this plane, but I was stuck with it now, so I pressed my luck.
“Were you visiting those guys I saw you with at the bar?”
Aiden glanced over at me and then tore open his bag of Swedish Fish. He ate three of them before answering.
“Basically.”
“Who were they?” I pressed. “Friends?”
“Associates,” he said bluntly. “Do you want one of these?”
I took the offered sweet, as well as the hint, and stopped asking questions.
The rest of the plane ride went smoothly. I talked about losing my dad and how I felt about mom moving to the other side of the country shortly after. Aiden ate the remaining Swedish Fish with the exception of the yellow ones, and shoved the rest of the bag into his pocket. We talked about my job but not his. I did ask him more about his family.
“My dad was great,” Aiden said. “We didn’t have a whole lot, but he was one of those fathers who always made time for me. We did a lot of backyard sports stuff—throwing a football around, playing catch—all that shit. Then he died when I was fourteen. Mom pretty much lost it then, and I ended up raising myself at that point.”
“Oh, Aiden, I’m so sorry. That had to be rough on you.”
“I managed.”
“What about your mother?”