Sultry Oblivion by Alexa Padgett
Nash
In the end, Aya spent part of the night in my arms, just not the way I wanted.
Holding her brought comfort, but also insane sexual tension. Still, I didn’t push her because she was right. We weren’t ready. I’d lost my head after I came in her mouth yesterday. If I hadn’t issued my ultimatum…
But I had because I was feeling uneasy. According to Jordan, I was emotionally fragile, just as afraid of losing Aya as she was of losing me. We’d once been each other’s calm through such momentous storms… Jordan said it made sense that she’d turned to me during her current one, even if it didn’t feel entirely safe to do so.
I resolved to make myself safer for her, to trust our ability to find our way back to each other, rather than forcing it. And over the next few weeks, I told her all this. We talked for hours—and not always about the past. We began to share the lives we were living in the present.
Aya started classes in June, nearly two months after her return to Austin, and I delighted in taking pictures of her with the backpack I’d bought her. She smiled for each one, humoring me.
Aya hadn’t heard from Alistair Seymour since I’d threatened him that day on the phone, but her father’s solicitor continued to bedevil her through June and into July, attempting to freeze her accounts. Each time he contacted her or sent a letter, her worry spiked, though her lawyers—both in England and here—insisted Aya’s grandfather and mother’s wills were airtight…if a bit unorthodox.
We’d talked through this again at her local attorney’s office this afternoon. I tried not to ask questions during the meeting, but as we left the low-slung yellow brick building in Barton Creek’s business district, I couldn’t resist.
“What does unorthodox mean?” I asked.
Aya shrugged. “I’ve never read their wills. I didn’t need to read Jeddi’s, and with my mum’s… I just… It hurt too much. I’d already lost her. I didn’t want it to be more real.” She glanced over. “Maybe that’s why you’ve not read your mother’s or grandfather’s.”
I heard the hint of defensiveness in her voice, so I picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “Probably.”
“I’m glad your hand is all healed,” she said.
“Good as new,” I said with a smile.
We entered the cool interior of the Tesla and both sighed.
“What do you have planned this afternoon?” I asked as Brandon pulled away from the curb.
Her eyes gleamed, bright and lively. “Ike and I are making a rocket.”
I shook my head. “I’m guessing not from a kit.”
She scoffed. “What’s the fun in that?”
“Right.” I squeezed her hand, feeling a flash of sexual frustration for approximately the 10,000th time since she’d returned. “Your big brain turns me on.”
She tilted her head back to look at me. “Good.”
“What?” I asked a few moments later, realizing she was staring up at me, waiting. I must have zoned out.
She bit her lip. “I asked if you wanted kids.”
I could feel the wall flying up around me. “No way.” My response was vehement.
Her face fell. She shifted her body, creating space where there hadn’t been any before. I missed her soft curves.
“That’s why I got cats,” I offered, trying to smile, to soften what had clearly been a blow.
She looked out the window. “Sure.”
“Aya—”
We eased to a stop, and I realized we were in front of Mama Grace’s stately white house. Aya hopped out without so much as a goodbye.
Brandon caught my gaze in the rearview mirror. “You weren’t listening to her. Before.”
“How’d you know?”
“Because she was talking about her kids. How much she wanted them.”
I dropped my head into my hands. “Ah, fuck.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay to talk to her about it because I had a band meeting I was already going to be late for.