Alexia POV:
After that mortifying day of shopping, all I needed was food to erase the horrors of overpriced shoes, gowns, and—ugh—lingerie. Why was Aiden so obsessed with being controlling? The man had practically picked out my entire wardrobe. And when he wasn’t choosing, he was dragging around like so kind of designer-clad puppet.
As my stomach let out another dramatic growl, I turned to him, scowling. "I’m starving," I said, clutching my stomach for effect.
He gave one of those looks. You know the ones. The raised eyebrow, the slight smirk, the condescending ’are you serious?’ expression. "You had enough pancakes to supply a bakery this morning," he said.
"That was hours ago!" I snapped.
"Two hours," he corrected, his voice laced with irritation.
"It feels like a lifeti," I countered, throwing in a theatrical sigh. "Are you trying to starve ?"
He muttered sothing under his breath, which I didn’t catch but could guess wasn’t a complint. Finally, he huffed and made a sharp turn toward a small restaurant. Nothing fancy—just the kind of cozy, low-key place you’d go to for comfort food.
He parked the car and, as usual, scanned the area for paparazzi. Aiden always acted like the world was waiting to catch him in a compromising situation. To be fair, it probably was. Still, his paranoia was exhausting.
"Are we good?" I asked, leaning toward him with a teasing grin.
"Just get inside," he replied, his hand on the small of my back as he ushered toward the door.
The place was nice. Not too crowded, with warm lighting and the sll of sothing delicious wafting from the kitchen. We were seated near a window, and before I could even glance at the nu, Aiden leaned in, his tone sharp.
"No alcoholic drinks," he said, pointing at like I was a misbehaving child.
I blinked at him. "Excuse ?"
"You heard ," he replied, his voice low and firm. "If you even think about ordering anything stronger than sparkling water, I’m walking out and leaving you here."
"Oh, co on!" I protested, throwing my hands up. "That was one ti!"
"One ti too many," he shot back, narrowing his eyes. "I’m not reliving that nightmare."
I huffed, crossing my arms. "Fine. I’ll have... I don’t know. Lemonade."
"She’ll have water," Aiden interrupted before the server could even acknowledge my request.
My jaw dropped. "Excuse ? Since when do you order for ?"
"Since you can’t be trusted to make responsible choices," he said, smirking like he’d just won so imaginary battle.
I glared at him, but before I could launch into a tirade, the server appeared, looking slightly uncomfortable at the tension radiating from our table.
"Water," Aiden repeated firmly. "For her. And I’ll have a black coffee."
"Lemonade," I interjected, staring daggers at him.
The poor server hesitated, glancing between us like he wasn’t sure who to listen to. Aiden sighed dramatically. "Fine. Lemonade," he said, waving his hand like he was granting a favor.
"Thank you," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
When it ca ti to order food, I had one goal: eat enough to forget this entire day.
"What can I get for you?" the server asked, turning to .
I didn’t even look at the nu. "I’ll have the roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans," I said, pausing for effect. "Oh, and a side of garlic bread. And a Caesar salad. And..." I scanned the nu quickly. "The mushroom soup to start."
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "You planning to feed a football team?"
"Nope. Just ," I replied sweetly.
"Right..." he said, shaking his head as he placed his far less ambitious order—a steak and a side of vegetables. Predictable.
When the server left, Aiden leaned back in his chair, studying . "You do realize people are going to assu I don’t feed you, right? With the way you’re ordering, it’s like you haven’t eaten in weeks."
"I haven’t," I replied, clutching my chest dramatically. "You’ve been dragging all over town, starving while you shop for clothes I didn’t even ask for."
He rolled his eyes. "You’re impossible."
"And you’re infuriating," I shot back, taking a sip of my lemonade.
As we waited for the food, I couldn’t help but poke at him a little more. "So," I said, leaning forward with a grin. "What’s the deal with you and Victorian Secret, anyway? You seed very comfortable in there."
His jaw tightened, and I knew I’d struck a nerve. "It’s called being efficient," he replied coolly. "Soone had to make sure you weren’t walking around in—whatever it is you usually wear."
I smirked. "Admit it. You were enjoying yourself."
"Trust ," he said, leaning in closer, his voice low and dangerous. "The only thing I enjoyed was watching you squirm."
"Sure," I said, drawing out the word. "Whatever you say."
The food arrived before he could retort, and I imdiately dug in. The mushroom soup was heavenly, the garlic bread perfectly crisp. I ate with what I thought was a reasonable level of elegance, but Aiden stared at like I’d grown a second head.
"What?" I asked, pausing mid-bite.
"Do you even breathe between bites?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Don’t judge ," I said, pointing my fork at him. "You’re the one who didn’t let eat earlier. This is your fault."
By the ti I finished my soup, salad, and most of the main course, I was starting to feel full. But then dessert was ntioned, and I perked up imdiately.
"You’re not serious," Aiden said as I scanned the dessert nu.
"Oh, I’m very serious," I replied, flagging down the server. "I’ll have the chocolate lava cake. And the cheesecake. And..."
"Alexia," he interrupted, his tone warning.
"What?" I asked innocently. "You said no alcohol. You didn’t say anything about dessert."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this mont. "Fine. Order whatever you want. Just don’t bla when you can’t move afterward."
The chocolate lava cake was divine. The rich, molten center oozed decadence, and the cheesecake practically lted on my tongue. I was in dessert heaven, and nothing—not even Aiden’s incessant judgnt—was going to ruin it.
"You better pace yourself," Aiden warned, eyeing as I shoveled another forkful of lava cake into my mouth. "You’re going to regret eating all of that."
I rolled my eyes, licking a bit of chocolate off my lip just to annoy him. "What’s the point of dessert if you don’t enjoy it? Let live, Mr. Grumpy."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I’m serious, Alexia. Last ti you ate like this, it didn’t end well. Or have you forgotten the puke incident?"
I froze mid-bite, the mory of that night flashing in my mind. "That was one ti," I mumbled, but my confidence wavered as my stomach let out a low, ominous gurgle.
Aiden raised an eyebrow, his expression dripping with smugness. "Right. One ti. But considering your current speed, I’d say we’re heading for round two."
"I’m fine," I insisted, waving him off and taking another bite of cheesecake for good asure. I refused to let him win this battle of wills.
True to his prediction, by the ti I finished dessert, I was practically slumped in my chair. "I think I’m going to die," I moaned, clutching my stomach.
"I told you," he said, smirking as he sipped his coffee.
"But it was worth it," I said, leaning back with a content sigh.
By the ti I polished off the last crumbs of dessert, my stomach felt... uneasy. Okay, more than uneasy. It felt like I had a miniature tornado brewing in there, a mixture of chocolate, cheesecake, and regret. I dabbed my mouth with the napkin, trying to maintain my composure.
"See?" I said, forcing a smile. "No problem. I’m perfectly—"
My stomach let out a loud, almost cartoonish grumble.
Aiden tilted his head, his lips twitching in amusent. "Perfectly what?"
"Perfectly fine," I snapped, sitting up straighter as if good posture would magically fix my impending doom. "Let’s just go."
He chuckled, throwing so cash on the table for the bill before standing. "Suit yourself. But if you puke in my car again, I swear—"
"I won’t!" I shot back, standing abruptly. The movent was a mistake. A very big mistake.
As we left the restaurant, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. Despite the day’s chaos, I couldn’t help but smile. For all his faults—and there were many—Aiden had at least kept things interesting.
"Co on," he said, holding the car door open for . "Let’s get you ho before you start complaining again."
I climbed into the car, still grinning. "You’re lucky I like food more than I hate you."
"And you’re lucky I have patience," he shot back, rolling his eyes.
"Sure," I said, leaning back in the seat. "Whatever you say."
When I got in the car, I started to regret my life choices. The tight seatbelt pressing against my overstuffed stomach felt like a dieval torture device. Aiden glanced at out of the corner of his eye, clearly noticing my discomfort.
"Feeling okay there?" he asked, his tone laced with mock concern.
"I’m fine," I lied, clenching my fists to stop myself from doubling over. "Just drive."
He shrugged, starting the engine. The smooth motion of the car pulling onto the road made my stomach churn even more. I clenched my teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of being right.
But then he hit a speed bump.
"Ugh," I groaned, clutching my stomach as a wave of nausea washed over .
Aiden glanced at , his smirk fading. "You’re turning green. Don’t you dare—"
"I’m not—" I started, but the words were cut off as the contents of my overindulgence threatened to make a violent reappearance.
"Alexia!" he snapped, pulling over to the side of the road just as I leaned forward.
It was too late.
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