I try hard not to think about it. Unsuccessfully.

I can’t help but worry about the conversation that Aiden and Melanie are currently having downstairs. I hope it’s going okay. Making things right with the people he’s hurt is seriously important to Aiden, and I know that he’ll be doing his best to explain himself, but. Still.

To distract myself, I snap pictures of what’s going on upstairs. Shots of Ripley painting the wall, his already paint-speckled t-shirt gaining new colors. A photo of Noah yelling assembly directions at Raj, then one of an apologetic Noah hugging an exasperated Raj when the directions turned out to be misguided.

We manage to get the crib together, and Noah crams himself into it, socked feet kicking in the air, to test it out. I take a photo of that, too.

It turns out that Ripley was painting a big, stylized sun on the wall of the baby’s room. It’s in the bottom left corner, and everywhere else, Ripley has scattered planets and stars, all in the same cute, cartoony style. He even put a little spaceship in the corner. It’s extremely adorable.

When he’s done, he has us put the crib on top of the tarp, and he adds a few stars and sparkles to its legs, matching it to the wall.

We all stand back to take in the finished product.

“Ripples!” Raj says, beaming happily. I snap a photo of the look on his face, then text it to the group chat, with the caption: the Ripley effect.

Then I realize that all members of the group chat are currently in this room with me, except for Aiden. My thoughts go right back to him.

Ripley’s mom comes to pick him up, and he shows himself out. About twenty minutes later, Noah yawns, rubs his eyes, and heads off to his bedroom. Raj and I are left alone in the baby’s room.

“Do you think,” he says, “We should - go down and check on them, or?”

“I really don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t hear any shouting, that feels like a good sign, right?”

Raj frowns. “If Aiden shouts at my girl even a little bit, I’m going to be very unhappy.”

“Oh, no, he won’t do that! I guess I meant more - loud arguing?”

“Oh.” We’re sitting with our backs against the wall, across from Ripley’s painted galaxy. Raj’s eyes are roaming slowly over the planets as we talk. “Is that what they were like in high school? A lot of loud arguing?” When I don’t answer right away, he pins on: “M doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Um...” I hesitate, trying to think of how to put it. “No, it wasn’t really like that. I only saw it from afar, but from what I can tell… Melanie would get upset with Aiden for putting no effort into their relationship, and she’d break up with him. Then he’d apologize, they’d get back together. She’d behave like he was the perfect boyfriend again, and he’d go back to behaving like he didn’t care at all. It was this nonstop cycle. Then Aiden left town, and-”

“She told me about that part.” Raj winces. “She said that he stole something important from her, then left town without her, when she thought she was going with him.”

“Yes.” I fidget with the sleeve of my flannel. “But - he-”

Raj lifts an eyebrow. “He what?”

“I was going to say that he was a teenager, and that he already had a bad drinking problem by that point, that he had a reason, and all that stuff, but - I don’t actually think that Aiden would want me making excuses for him. He doesn’t make any for himself.”

Raj falls silent, tapping his fingers on the ground, thinking over everything I said.

I can’t sit still anymore, so I get to my feet and start gathering up all the cardboard and bubble wrap. Raj gets up, too, opens a trash bag, helps me get everything together. We roll up the tarp that Ripley put down, peel away the painter’s tape lining the baseboard.

When I look up again, Melanie is standing in the doorway, watching us. Aiden is right behind her, leaning one hand on the doorframe.

“Oh-” Raj straightens up, a hopeful expression on his face. “Hey, boo.”

“Hey.” Melanie reaches for him; Raj drops the trash bag and crosses to her. She leans her head on his shoulder. “Mmm. I’m exhausted.”

“We’ll get out of your hair,” I say immediately. “Aiden, you want to-?”

“Yeah.”

There are mumbled goodbyes. It all happens very quickly. I don’t get a good look at Aiden’s face, or Melanie’s, so it’s hard to tell what’s going on.

Aiden doesn’t say a word the whole ride home, but he doesn’t seem upset, only contemplative. I stay quiet, letting him work through his thoughts.

I take us back to his place. He sits down at the table on his tiny porch, and I go inside, pulling off my jacket. It’s too late for coffee - even by my standards - so I make us two cups of tea.

I tear open the paper around the teabags, releasing a whiff of chamomile, and find myself struck with a memory. Aunt Sarah, making me a cup of tea when I showed up in a panic at her house.

I assumed that Aiden likes tea for the taste, but maybe it also reminds him of home. I picture him in one of the faraway places he’s traveled to, stopping for a cup of chamomile, thinking about what he left behind.

“Do you like tea or coffee better?” I ask, taking the chair next to his.

Aiden rouses from his thoughts, blinking, and accepts the mug from me.

“Why are people always asking my bi self to choose one thing or another? Both. I like both.”

This makes me laugh, and Aiden smiles, but we both quickly grow serious again.

It’s dark and quiet out here, starting to get late. The moonlight spills onto the glass table and reflects off of Aiden’s eyes, his glossy hair.

His hand is resting on the tabletop. I reach over and take it in mine.

“Aiden. Are you okay?”

“I…” Aiden is one of the very few people I know who really thinks about the answer to that question before he’ll respond. “Yeah. I am. I think that Mellie and I understand each other a little better, now. Or at least understand where we were both coming from back then.” He pauses. “I didn’t tell her everything. Obviously there’s some stuff I can’t tell her, and - I decided that she doesn’t need to know that my feelings for you go back to high school. It wouldn’t help with anything. You know I never acted on it, never intended to. Poem incident aside, it had nothing to do with the way I treated her. It would just be salt in the wound, and… I would rather let the wound heal.”

I take a sip of my tea, thinking that over. It’s cold out here, and the heat of the cup feels nice against my palms.

“Was that wrong?” Aiden suddenly asks. “Do you think - should I have told her?”

“Oh, I don’t - I’m not exactly a relationship expert, dude.”

“But you’re better at this stuff than me.”

I give him a skeptical look. “Am I?”

“Yes.” He says it in that firm way, that voice that’s impossible to argue with.

“Okay, well…” I bring the mug closer to my chest, steal a little warmth from it. “If it really had nothing to do with the way you treated her, or your relationship with her…”

“It didn’t.”

“Then - no, yeah. I think you’re probably right. It wouldn’t help with anything.”

He nods slowly.

“I don’t expect her to be my friend, or anything even close to that. I just want us to be okay, you know? One of..." Aiden fades off, and has to start again. "One of the hardest parts of getting sober was thinking about the way everyone back home saw me. Before, when I started thinking about all the shit I did, I would just get too fucked up to think about anything, because thinking about that stuff makes me feel terrible. It became like a reflex, eventually. Think about that shit, instantly need a drink.” He gestures at the mug before him on the table. “Matter of fact, I really wish this wasn’t tea, right now.” He sees the look on my face, and takes my fingers again. “It’s fine, Jamie, I’m not going to raid Kent’s liquor cabinet after you leave. It’s just - a relevant example.”

My heart twists painfully. “Is it - easier, now? Like, at all?”

Aiden takes a moment to consider his answer.

“I feel more like I’m standing on solid ground, these days. When I first quit, I felt like a fucking human hockey puck, sliding around all over the place, no way of controlling my emotions, no way to keep the volume down on all the noise…” He runs a hand over his face. “It wasn’t until I was sober for a while that I realized I didn’t have control over any of that before I quit, either. Like, feeling guilty or sad or - whatever, and then getting trashed to make it go away, that’s not control, it’s the opposite.”

I still have Aiden's fingers in mine, and I give them a little squeeze. He lifts my hand and presses a kiss onto my knuckles.

“Sorry. I didn’t answer your question. I don’t really know how to put it. I’d say - easier probably isn’t the word. There are good days, and there are days that are really fucking hard. But it always helps to have some support.” He’s speaking against my fingers; the gentle warmth of his breath on my skin makes my toes curl, even when we’re talking about such serious things. “And if I say that I’m having a hard day with it, you don’t have to necessarily worry that I’m going to run off and find the nearest dive bar. That’s not - not really what I mean. Just be there, and I’ll be okay. Okay?”

I look at him, absorbing everything he said.

“Okay, but - will you please tell me, if you’re having one of the really fucking hard days? You don’t have to hide it from me. We can go camping again, sacrifice ourselves to the bears, we’ll do whatever you need, but - will you tell me?”

Aiden smiles, and puts one more kiss onto my knuckles. “Yes. I will.”

There’s a silence. He turns my hand over in his, smooths his thumb along my palm.

“You’re cold,” he says.

“I’m okay.”

“We can go inside.”

True, but I know that fresh air helps Aiden, when he’s going through a lot. “Really, I’m fine.”

He drops my hand, shrugs out of his jacket, and pulls off his sweater. Holds it out to me.

“Oh - Aiden, seriously-”

“Go on, take it.” He smiles again. “I like how it looks on you, anyways.”

My cheeks turn hot, even in the cold air, and whatever argument I had lined up vanishes from my mind. He adjusts his t-shirt, watching as I pull the sweater on over my flannel.

It’s deliciously warm, and it smells like vetiver.

“Aren’t you cold now, though?”

“Nah, I’m alright.”

“Why are you always running such a high temperature?” I shoot him a suspicious look. “Is this a magic thing? I guessed you were a vampire, but vampires are supposed to be cold, so - what’s the opposite of a vampire?”

He shrugs. “A werewolf?”

I freeze, halfway through reaching for my mug.

“Aiden.” My eyes widen. “You-?”

“Oh my god, Jamie, no! I was just answering your question.”

It feels good to hear him laugh, after everything that happened today. I take another sip of my tea, watching the way his laughter crinkles the corners of his eyes. I think he might be self-conscious about the little lines there. Sometimes he covers his eyes when he laughs, hiding them.

Honestly, I love them. Maybe they’re formed from stress, but now they usually mean he’s happy enough to laugh, or smile.

Aiden catches me looking at him, and cocks his head to the side.

“What about you, are you okay? That whole thing must have been weird for you.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I insist, and then, when Aiden’s eyebrow arches, “I mean, yes. It’s just a weird situation. But honestly, if it made you feel better, talking it out with her…” I realize I haven’t asked. “Did it make you feel better?”

“It - doesn’t make me feel good, to think about all that stuff, but. I think it’ll make me feel better in the long run. Either way, that wasn’t the purpose, for me to feel better. I just wanted Mellie to know that I’m sorry, and that none of that shit was because of anything she did or said or was. That’s all.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I sit back in my chair, smiling. “What a productive night all around, huh? Worth the tears.”

“What? Mellie didn’t cry. I didn’t, either.”

“No, I was talking about Raj, when he realized that we screwed the front of the crib on backwards.”

Aiden blinks, then lets out a huffing laugh. He reaches over and plucks the mug out of my hands.

“Wait, I wasn’t done with that,” I complain, as he sets it down on the table. “It’s warm, and-”

I break off as Aiden leans forward and takes me by the waist.

He proceeds to quite literally lift me out of my chair and onto his lap.

“This warm enough for you?” he asks, speaking directly into my neck. A wave of goosebumps spreads over me, and I automatically close my arms around him.

“Oh. Yeah, now that you mention it, this is better.” I wind my fingers through his hair; he closes his eyes, enjoying it. “Now we both have access to the sweater-warmth. Unless you want to take my flannel? Do a trade?”

A low chuckle. I feel it vibrate through him, feel the huff of it against my throat.

“Yeah, I bet I could squeeze into your flannel. Just let me pop my shoulder out of its socket real quick.”

“Stop it,” I laugh, and Aiden traces the tip of his nose up my larynx. It’s a little movement, barely even a brush. It shouldn’t send such a big shiver through me, and yet.

I consider dragging him inside, but I need to stay focused. There’s one more thing I want to ask him, while he’s in the mood to share.

“Aiden… why, though? Why be with Melanie, if that wasn’t really what you wanted? Why didn’t you even try to be with me?”

“It - there was-” He breaks off, his chest rising in a heavy sigh. “Shit. There’s just no way to talk about it without me sounding like a selfish idiot, because I was being a selfish idiot.”

“Mmkay, well, the good news is, I already know that you were a selfish idiot back then.” I kiss the top of his head, take a deep breath of the shampoo scent clinging to his hair. It’s all soft and messy, cool from the breezy night. “I know you’re not a selfish idiot anymore. I mean. You’re not selfish, anyways.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, leaning back to press a finger over my lips. “Look - we can talk about this, but I’ve done a lot of talking today already. Is it cool if we just…?”

I roll the soft navy cotton of his t-shirt between my fingers, then smooth my palm over the fabric. The shirt is loose, but it pulls tighter around his considerable chest and arms, and his warmth comes right through.

“Fine, you don’t have to answer that question right now. Here’s an easier one: is there actually a reason why you’re this warm all the time? Is it something to do with magic?”

“No,” Aiden rumbles. “I guess that’s just - me?” He watches my face, then tips his head to the side. “What?”

“I - you - nothing.”

I’ve once again been ambushed by the depth of my feelings for him. Maybe he can see it in my expression, because he smiles, deepening those delicate lines at the outer corners of his blue eyes.

I bend and gently press my lips to them. One kiss, on either side. He stills, his oversized hands spread out on my back. I draw away, but only far enough that I can nuzzle my nose into his, our breaths mingling together.

“Stay here tonight,” he murmurs.

I answer by getting up from his lap and pulling him inside.

Hiding my face the whole time, so he can’t see me for the hopeless, heart-eyed idiot I am.