He closes the door and we follow Andrew into the house just as Annalisa and Julian walk out of their room. They look at the mayor standing in our living room with the two other men, then back at Aiden. Last night, Aiden told everyone (who was home and minus his brothers) who the mayor really was, so they look torn on how to react to the sight.
Julian eyes the two other men, who clearly look like bodyguards and still haven’t said a word. “Is everything okay here?”
“It’s fine.” Aiden waves him off with a straight face. “Let’s go talk on the back porch.”
He leads the mayor and his two friends to the back, and I stay beside Annalisa and Julian as we watch them head outside.
It’s driving me crazy not knowing how Aiden is feeling with all of this. This is the first time he’s talking to his father since the man deserted him and his family, and now here he is, strolling into Aiden’s life like he’s a longtime golf buddy. I wish I could read Aiden’s face like I can other people’s.
Once Andrew and his friends are outside, Aiden turns to me. “Are you coming?”
Those three words catch me so off guard that I just stare at him dumbly. He wants me there with him, sitting in on his family drama?
“Amelia?” he asks again, waiting for me.
Shaking off my awestruck expression, I follow him outside and sit in the chair directly across from Andrew, separated only by a small, outdoor coffee table. His “friends” remain standing behind him until Andrew waves them off. They head down the porch steps and walk out of hearing distance but remain close enough to run back and intervene if something happens.
Why does a small-town mayor even need bodyguards?
Aiden closes the door to the house and sits beside me, and we all stare at each other in an intimidating silence.
I can’t help but feel like a child who was called into the principal’s office, about to be scolded. From what I can tell so far, Andrew Kessler is a very well-spoken, well–put together man who gives off an air of superiority and a large sense of entitlement. He has slightly long, slicked back, dirty-blond hair, bright-blue eyes, and well-maintained stubble that defines his already straight jawline. It almost pains me to admit that he’s a handsome man, wearing an expensive-looking suit and with an even more costly watch adorning his wrist. A silver wedding band glints on his ring finger, and I know it’s not the one from his marriage to Aiden’s mom. His cheekbone has the slightest hint of a bruise, and I feel a twisted sense of pride in Aiden. Even so, it’s evident that Andrew Kessler is one of those people who knows how to control a room, whose presence demands attention—which might be where Aiden gets it from.
“Listen, son, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Aiden to get even tenser, but he does at hearing the word son.
“I’m not here to press charges,” Andrew continues, “even though both my
wife and campaign manager certainly think I should. But once I told them I would never do that to my son, they dropped it. We’re family.” He sends Aiden a pointed look, clearly wanting to punctuate some point he’s trying to make.
Aiden’s hand clenches into a fist, and I pry it open to hold it in my own. The last thing we need is for him to punch the mayor again. I doubt Andrew will take kindly to two black eyes during his campaign.
Aiden says nothing but Andrew doesn’t seem to mind, completely content with steering the conversation.
“Speaking of family, where are my other sons?”
Aiden’s hand tightens in mine almost painfully before he realizes it and lets go.
“Sons?” Aiden’s voice is low. “You don’t have any sons. At least not in this house.”
Andrew tilts his head. “Last time I checked, I had three boys. You, and a set of twins.”
The muscle in Aiden’s jaw ticks. “Not if you had your way. They wouldn’t be here if Mom listened to you.”
As if instinctively knowing they were being talked about, Jason and Jackson appear behind the sliding glass door, looking out at us with worried faces. Andrew follows our gazes, and the twins, being spotted, scurry farther back into the house.
“Well, they are here.” The corner of Andrew’s lips turn up. “And they have my eyes, I see. Why don’t you bring them out so I can meet them properly?”
Nothing about Andrew’s tone or body language is threatening, but by the way Aiden’s body reacts to his words, you’d think he was holding a gun to Aiden’s head. I can tell it’s taking everything Aiden has to stay calm and not punch Andrew in the face again. I can feel the aggravated energy radiating off of him.
“Do you even know their names?” Aiden snaps.
“Aiden, listen—”
“No, you listen,” Aiden interrupts, eyes blazing. “You show up on our doorstep after wanting nothing to do with them, with us, and have the balls to play the we’re family card? Unbe-fuckinglievable.” Aiden stands. “Please see yourself out.”
Andrew makes no move to leave. In fact, he looks entertained.