“I’m glad you like it. If I end up getting fired for taking this time off, maybe I have a future in cosmetology.”

Emma laughed. “I can’t quite see you doing hair for a living.”

“Me either.”

“You know, you washing my hair like this reminds me of Out of Africa when Robert Redford washes Meryl Streep’s hair,” Emma remarked.

“My mom loved that movie.”

“Really?”

Aidan laughed as he started rinsing her hair. “Yeah, she loved anything with Robert Redford. She used to say he reminded her of a blonde haired version of Pop.”

“Oh my God, now that I think of it, Patrick does look a little like Robert Redford!”

“I can’t believe he hasn’t already mentioned it to you. It used to give him a big head.”

“Hmm, an inflated ego? Sounds like a Fitzgerald family trait.”

“Ha, ha,” he replied. When Aidan’s fingers ran over the ridge of her scar, she tensed. “Em, what’s this?”

The sponge she had been bathing with fell from her hands and onto the tile floor. “It’s nothing. Just an old war wound.”

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.” Aidan’s hand left her head and came to rest on her shoulder. “Tell me.”

She hugged her arms around her chest. “It’s a reminder of a very painful time in my life when I did something very stupid.” When Aidan’s hand remained frozen on her shoulder, she sighed. “After my mother died, I was so alone. My grief for Travis was still very fresh. There was no husband, no father, no mother...I couldn’t see through the dark clouds that I still had Grammy and Granddaddy.”

A tremble ran through her body as she let the skeletons of her past dance precariously around her. “One night when I was in the mountains, I got up in the middle of the night and got into the car. I started flying over those curvy roads, hoping another car would come along, and I could end it all.”

“Oh God,” Aidan muttered, his hands squeezed her shoulders tight.

She glanced back at him. “I slammed into a tree instead. And even though it totaled the car and gave me that horrific scar, I walked away.”

“Was that the only time you tried to…” She could tell he couldn’t bear to say the words.

Emma gave a quick nod. “After that night, I knew it was meant for me to stay alive—to try to live a happy life for my parents and for Travis. I found a really good therapist, and she, along with my family and my faith, helped me through it.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on the crown of her wet head. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You really are.”

“What I did was really stupid and selfish and —”

Aidan shook his head. “I’m not going to judge you, Em. I’ve never had to go through the hell that you have. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

He turned off the water. Glancing back at her, he asked, “All clean?”

She laughed. “Yes, all clean.”

He opened the shower door and went over to get her a towel and her robe. She was glad to see he still had on his underwear. Although with it soaked through, she had a very fine view of the imprint of his ass.

Rolling her eyes at her out-of-control hormones, she turned her gaze back to the tile. When he handed her the towel, she started drying off her arms and legs. He pulled her hair up and wrapped another towel around her head.

“Are you getting hungry?”

“Umm, hmm,” she murmured as she slid into her robe.

“What sounds good?”

She arched her brows in surprise. “You’ll fix anything I want?”

“Yep. Or go out and pick it up.”

“How about some of your shrimp scampi?”

Aidan nodded. “While you’re drying your hair, I’ll fix it and bring it to you.”

“Are you going to bring it on a silver tray with a rose bud in a crystal vase?” she asked, with a grin.

“Always that mouth,” he muttered as he headed out of the bathroom.

Emma giggled as she got out her hair dryer. She eased down on the toilet seat before Aidan could order her to do it. Once her hair was dry, she slid into a pair of pajamas and got into the bed. Beau happily climbed up beside her.

She eyed a stack of books on the nightstand before reading through the titles. They were predominantly nonfiction, self-help books. She picked up one of her favorites, Tuesdays with Morrie, and began rereading.

Aidan appeared a little while later with a tray with two plates and two drinks but sans the crystal vase and rose. She sniffed appreciatively. “Oh God, that smells so good!”

“Thank you.”

She eased up in bed and took the tray. As Aidan grabbed his plate, she motioned to the nightstand. “What’s up with the reading material?” she asked.

Pink tinged his cheeks. “Oh, um, well, those were recommended by my therapist.”

Emma choked on the bite of scampi she had taken. Once she recovered, she asked, “You’re in therapy?”

He nodded, turning his head from her intense gaze as he sat down in the glider. “How long have you been seeing a therapist?”

Staring at his plate, he nudged a piece of shrimp around with his fork. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He snapped his gaze up to meet hers. “I made an appointment the morning after I epically screwed up my life and yours.”

“I see.”

“I really like Dr. Leighton. She’s really helping me work on a lot of things.”

“How often do you go?”

“Three times a week.”

Emma gulped. “That often.” Even when she was dealing with her immense grief, she only went twice a week.

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I asked for the most intense program because I wanted to fix myself as fast as I could…for you and for Noah.”

She couldn’t still the rapid beating of her heart. He wanted to be a better man for her—to right all the wrongs he had done, and most of all be everything she wanted and needed him to be. Part of her wanted to reach over and hug him tight—to tell him that her heart still belonged to him and always would. But she couldn’t. She was too gun-shy.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he suddenly asked. When she gave him a skeptical look, he grinned. “Your pick, I promise.”