Chapter 18: The Decision
The lavender and aftershave couldn’t quite mask it. Underneath the domestic scent of their master bedroom was the ghost of vanilla and sex, a scent that seemed to have woven itself into Suki’s skin and followed them home. Aidan showered, but Catriona swore she could still smell it on her own hands.
Aidan sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants. The golden lamplight cut across the tense line of his shoulders. His phone lay face-up on the duvet beside him, the screen dark for now. He was staring at the faint imprint Catriona’s body had left on the sheets, his hands clasped loosely between his knees.
Catriona wore a path in the carpet. Two steps toward the window, pivot, two steps back. Her bare feet were silent.
“A million dollars,” she said, her voice tight with a frenetic energy. “That’s not just ‘good money,’ Aidan. That’s fuck you money. That’s a house. That’s breathing room for a decade.”
“Three days,” Aidan said, not looking up. “With Sloane and Thea.”
“I know who they are. Everyone knows who they are. They’re the top 0.1% for a reason. This collab they’re proposing… it’s not just a video. It’s a branded series. ‘The Villa.’ It’s everywhere. The exposure alone—”
“Is me, locked in a house in Ibiza for seventy-two hours with two of the most notoriously intense creators on the platform,” he finished, finally lifting his head. His hazel eyes were calm, but the calm of deep water. “No outside contact. Filming everything. Everything, Cat. You read the same rider I did.”
“I read it.” She stopped pacing, facing him. “And I also read the metrics on the morning-after clip. It’s been twelve hours. It’s already tripled your highest-grossing day. Tripled. This isn’t a decline, Suki. This is a rocket ship. The ‘Villa’ offer is the direct result of that clip. They want the authenticity you just proved you can deliver.”
Suki leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over one of Aidan’s old band t-shirts she’d thrown on. She’d been quiet since they’d gotten back to their apartment, the silence stretching like a rubber band about to snap. Her jaw was set, her green eyes fixed on Aidan. The lavender in the air felt cloying. It smelled like a life that, for a few hours this morning, hadn’t entirely been hers.
“It’s performance,” Catriona pushed on, her words coming faster. “It’s a job. It’s the biggest job you’ll ever be offered. You go in, you do the work, you create the content. You come home. It’s logistics.”
“Logistics,” Suki echoed, the word flat.
Catriona glanced at her, hearing the edge. “Yes. Logistics and business. We knew this could lead to bigger things. This is the bigger thing.”
Aidan’s gaze shifted from his wife to Suki. He held it. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice quieter.
Suki uncrossed her arms, pushed off the doorframe. She took two steps into the room, the distance feeling vast. “I think you should do it.” The words sounded mechanical. “It’s your career. It’s an insane opportunity.”
“But?”
She stopped. Swallowed. The memory of his weight, the sun, the quiet, the unbearable intimacy of that morning—it was a fresh bruise, tender to the touch. “But if you do this,” she said, her voice dropping low, threading through the thick air, “I need to know you’re coming back to me. To us. This,” she gestured between the three of them, “isn’t a performance. What happened… that wasn’t for them. Not really.”
Catriona went very still. Her eyes darted to Aidan, waiting.
Aidan stood up. The movement was slow, deliberate. He closed the distance between himself and Suki, stopping just in front of her. He didn’t touch her. He just looked down, his expression open, stripped of any easygoing pretense. “Look at me,” he said, echoing his words from her sheets.
She did.
“This,” he said, with a firmness that brooked no argument, “is just business. A strange, fucked-up business transaction. You two are my home. You are where I come back to. That’s not a line. That’s the truth.”
Suki searched his face. She saw the friend who’d crashed on their couch after breakups, the man who made terrible coffee, the lover from this morning whose eyes never left hers. She saw the simple, unwavering honesty that had somehow become the axis their world spun on.
The tightness in her jaw released. A slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Catriona let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The sound broke the tension, leaving a different kind of quiet in its wake—softer, resolved. She walked over, her hand finding Suki’s, lacing their fingers together just as she had in the sunbeam. Her other hand reached for Aidan’s, pulling it toward them until their joined hands formed a loose, connected circle in the half-light.
The room was silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator down the hall. The offer was a chasm, a three-day void of unknown pressures and professional intimacy. But here, in the warmth of their tangled bedding and clasped hands, was a pact.
Aidan squeezed their hands once, then let go. He turned, picked up the phone from the bed. The screen lit up under his thumb, casting a blue glow on his face. He didn’t hesitate. He tapped the open email, hit reply, and typed a single, succinct sentence.
He hit send.
The screen went dark as he set the phone back down. He didn’t look at it again. He turned back to the women, to the room, to the life that was now irrevocably, thrillingly, terrifyingly different. “Okay,” he said, the word simple and final. “Now we wait.”