|Home > Samantha Young > On Dublin Street Series > Moonlight on Nightingale Way (Page 47)|
|Moonlight on Nightingale Way(On Dublin Street #6)(47) by Samantha Young|
His answer was to haul me into his arms, cuddling me close. “Grace, I know that. I knew it then too. But it all worked out. I met Juno and my feelings for you changed. I love you, but I’m not in love with you anymore. And the point is… you’ll meet someone, too, and you’ll get over Logan.”
I nodded, getting his point, but I was still reeling from his revelation. “Do Chloe and Juno know how you used to feel about me?”
Juno knew? I would never have guessed. She didn’t treat me with jealousy or anger or any feeling that would be completely understandable. I huffed in disbelief. “Juno is a very special woman.”
Aidan chuckled. “Don’t I know it.” He gave me a squeeze. “Someone will come along who loves you back, Grace, the way you love them, and it will change everything. You just have to be open to loving someone new.”
I pulled back from him to stare up into his face. “How very wise you are, Dr. Aidan,” I teased. “And thanks for dropping that bombshell on top of the destruction Logan caused.”
He grinned. “I was trying to help, believe it or not.”
I sighed and nodded, feeling a little kernel of something familiar start to bloom inside of me.
“I know. And believe it or not, I think you helped.” I slumped against the sofa and felt the ache still throbbing in my chest. “But if you don’t mind, I’m not done with the whole broken-heart bit yet.”
“Finally,” I snapped as Chloe picked up her phone. “I have tried calling you all day.”
“I know,” Chloe huffed down the line. “Jeez. I was at work. Give me a moment, will you?”
“Aidan was in love with me and you didn’t tell me.”
There was silence.
“How did you find out?” she asked incredulously.
“He told me!” It took everything within me not to throw my phone at my kitchen wall. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because he asked me not to.”
“You should have told me.”
“And what would the point have been in that? You didn’t feel that way about him.”
“No, I didn’t, but… Chloe, I slept with him years ago.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I was there to pick up the pieces.”
“Oh God.” I sank onto a stool. “It’s awful of me, but I wish he hadn’t told me. I don’t think my emotions can handle it today.”
“Why did he tell you?”
I sighed, letting the ache fill me up as I started to blubber down the phone to her about Logan.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Chloe sighed. “I’m so sorry. And as for Aidan, he was just trying to help. I mean, look at him. Seven years ago he was a mess over you, and now he’s mad about Juno.”
“True.” I sniffled. “It does make me hopeful.”
“I get exactly where he was coming from telling you. However, I’m going to come at it from a different point of view, so don’t kill me.”
“All right,” I said in trepidation.
“Back then you had no clue Aidan was in love with you because your low self-esteem and insecurities make you absolutely oblivious when it comes to the opposite sex.”
“Thank you for that dismal analysis.”
“You’re welcome. Anyhoo, what I’m saying is… if you didn’t know how Aidan really felt about you, who is to say you know how Logan feels about you? You’re clueless.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying I wouldn’t give up all hope on Logan yet. A man doesn’t have sex with you against a kitchen wall because you happen to be the nearest woman in the vicinity. Well… not a man who looks like him anyway.”
“He has admitted to being attracted to me, but attraction and love are two very different things.”
“You’re right. But when they come together, they can be explosive… say… like hot, possessive sex against a kitchen wall.”
I dropped my head, banging my forehead against my kitchen counter.
“What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” I groaned. “Aidan was more help with his ‘I used to be in love with you’ story. I do not need hope where it pertains to Logan MacLeod.”
“Ugh. Being in love makes you a grumpy cow.”
I glowered even though she couldn’t see me. “You owe me for keeping Aidan’s feelings a secret. I’ll let you know when I think of something for you to do to make it up to me, but right now I’m getting off the phone before I kill you.”
“And how, might I ask, would you kill me down a phone line?”
“The power of wishful thinking.” I hung up on her and threw my phone on my counter. “I need to get more pessimistic friends,” I muttered.
The following Saturday evening I let Maia into my flat. She grinned at me and then turned to smile at her father, who was hovering in my front doorway rather awkwardly.
“Thanks again for doing this,” he said, referring to the fact that Maia was staying with me for the night because he had to work at the club for some big deejay event.
We stared at each other – me trying to think of something to say next and him probably trying to think of a polite way to get out of having to say anything else.
“I hope you have a great event.”