Chapter Fourteen
Chapter 14
SIENNA
WE STEP INTO A SMALL boutique on the west side of the island. It’s a quaint little shop with some bohemian vibes, and the interior is a kaleidoscope of colors and textures. I’m half assaulted by the sheer volume of garments and accessories crammed onto shelves and racks, half hypnotized. My artist’s soul simply wants to explore everything, touch every woven beach hat and study the dyes on each dress. The scent of coconut and hibiscus draws me deeper into the madness.
I glance over my shoulder once I’m halfway into the shop. Declan lingers near the entrance, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he stares out the window like a soldier guarding the entrance. He’s wearing dress pants, because that seems to be all he ever wears, and the most “vacation-y” thing he might own: a black button down with black embroidered palm trees you can only see with a close inspection.
There’s a fragmentation in his posture, a distance in his gaze.
I glance away. Things definitely aren’t the same between us now, and that silent breakfast didn’t help.
Since I know he’ll refuse to leave unless I pick something to replace my sweater, I ignore my uneasiness and start sifting through racks. I select a few items—a pair of black bootcut leggings, a floral crop top, and a dusty rose romper—but as I head toward the two tiny changing rooms, Declan’s voice stops me.
“Is that all you’re getting?” His tone is rigid and my stomach flutters. The rigidness isn’t mean, it’s reminiscent of the way he commanded me in the bedroom.
I glance down at the bundle in my arms. “Um…yeah?”
Since Declan is still near the entrance and we’re talking loudly at each other from across the shop, the middle-aged woman near the cash register glances up and watches our exchange with interest. No one else is in the shop, so maybe it’s a slow day.
Declan sighs, uncrossing his arms. “Get enough outfits for the rest of the week.”
“I only have so much room in my luggage.”
“Then I’ll buy you a bigger luggage.”
My lips tighten. I want to argue because I don’t know why he’s hell-bent on buying me so much stuff. Art supplies, food, clothing, luggage. But the unyielding intensity in his eyes stops me from responding.
Stubborn man.
Reluctantly, I turn back to the racks, grabbing a few dresses, some linen pants, and a couple more tops.
In the changing room, I try on each item mechanically, and they all fit just fine. Some aren’t really my style, but it’s good to stretch outside my comfort zone. Try something different. As I spin and review the floral dress, I’d like to leave the store wearing, it almost feels like I’m watching a movie starring someone else.
It’s a film about a woman on vacation with her man, and neither of them has a care in the world. They have an easy, simple life together. He showers her with gifts; she basks in the attention, and they live out their days in euphoria. Perfection.
Fantasy.
Not my life at all.
I’m about to take the dress off, but I know Declan will say something if I try to leave the store wearing my sweater. I let the dress fabric fall around me with a sigh.
This isn’t some movie; I’m not Declan’s girl. I’m taking too much from him.
My stomach feels awful now, churning and eating itself.
Coming back was a mistake. Why the hell didn’t I leave?
Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and clutch my stomach. I can’t get a handle on any of this, and I can feel myself becoming obsessive; I’ve done it in the past. I became obsessed with being wanted, cared for. Obsessed with belonging and being with someone broken like me. I gave myself up to satisfy each one of my insecurities. And that obsession led me down a dark path, made me blind to the corrosive attention from my ex.
Is that what’s happening again?
What if I’m missing something important about Declan? Something that will cause me harm in the end?
I try to clear the lump in my throat. I need there to be something wrong with him. Every attempt I’ve made to put distance between us has failed. Both of us keep pushing things farther and farther.
Because the way he fucked me was too good; the safety I feel around him is too comforting.
All of it terrifies me.
My presence in his life only puts him in danger. A lot of danger. Because what if Anthony somehow followed me?
I sit on the tiny wall bench in the changing room, the flimsy wood groaning under my weight. Holding my stomach, I sob silently. I don’t want Declan to get hurt. Because the more I hope to find some fault in him, the more I see that he’s a good man.
I shouldn’t have come back; I shouldn’t have gotten him mixed up in my problems.
What I’m doing is reckless. I’m acting from pure lust and neediness.
So stupid and…
Tap. Tap.
I gasp, glancing at the turquoise-colored door.
“Miss? How is everything fitting?” It’s the woman who works here.
Rubbing my wet eyes furiously with the heels of my hands, I stand. Then I wipe my face with my sweater. I gather the clothing and my purse.
Finally, I open the door with a bright smile. “It’s all perfect. Thank you.”
She must notice my face is pink and splotchy because she stares at me for a moment. Then she smiles warmly, her brown skin crinkling around her eyes. She touches my arm. “I’ll be up front when you’re ready, dear, or if you need anything.”
I nod, and she walks away. With my purse and a heavy bundle of clothes in my arms, I pretend to look at hats and sunglasses, trying to give my skin enough time to change color, so it’s not so obvious I was crying. Before leaving the little corner of the store, I grab a pair of dark sunglasses and put them on, just to cover my red eyes. Then I meet Declan at the register.
As I wait while the woman rings everything up, a glint of opal catches my eye. There’s a pair of dangle earrings on a rack, the stones shimmering with iridescent hues. I reach out, my fingers grazing the smooth surface. They’re really cute.
Declan plucks the earrings off the spinning rack. He also grabs the matching necklace and adds them to the pile of clothes without a word.
I feel a flush creep up my neck.
I shouldn’t have touched them.
When the woman is finally done, she flashes Declan a bright smile. “That’ll be eleven-oh-five-ninety-eight.”
I almost have another panic attack. Over a thousand dollars for a few outfits??
“Oh, I should put some things back,” I say, reaching for a dress on the top of the neatly folded pile.
Declan grabs my wrist, his expression unreadable. “We’ll take all of it,” he tells the woman, handing her his black credit card.
I yank my hand away and stare at my feet.
Declan won’t let me carry any bags as we leave, so I follow him out. The floral dress I’m wearing feels foreign on my skin. It definitely doesn’t match my black combat boots. I mean, the dress is beautiful, but it’s not me. None of this is. The dress, the earrings, the lavish spending, it’s…
I hold my stomach again. What am I doing?
I should be busking on a street corner somewhere to earn enough money for a plane ticket out of this country. India might be a good pick since it’s densely populated. I can disappear into a small town where my ex will never think to look for me.
Instead, I’m here in Hawaii, wearing a dress that’s too pricey, hanging around Declan and being a coward.
“Thank you,” I murmur as we walk to the car, where Sean is waiting. “For the clothes.”
Declan pulls the earrings and necklace from a bag before handing the rest to Sean. As Sean pops the trunk, Declan turns to me, staring into my sunglasses.
“Worth it to see how beautiful you look,” he says. Then he points at my boots. “I like the contrast.”
I smirk through my blush. “I’m always ready for a fight.”
“I believe it.” He moves closer, slipping the earring hooks into my lobes. Then he moves behind me to fasten the necklace. His fingers graze my locket, adjusting where it lies beside its new opal companion. He lingers and I sense he wants to ask about it. Thankfully, he doesn’t. I have yet to open my locket since the day I dirtied it in art class.
Maybe I’ll never open it again, leaving my grandpa completely untarnished.
Declan’s attention shifts, and he traces a finger along the exposed skin of my shoulder and upper back. Then he smooths his fingers down my arms.
The feathery touches send a shiver up my spine, but it seems like he’s searching for something. He has been transfixed on my skin this morning. Does he think I got injured, and he’s looking for bruises?
He finally stops examining me and steps around to my front. Hooking a finger under my chin, he tips my head back so I have to look up at him. “Truly stunning.”
I try to lower my chin and look away, but he doesn’t let me.
“Do you hear me?”
My knees have gone weak, so I nod only so he’ll let me step away. I don’t feel beautiful; only like a fraud.
“Join me for a walk near the beach,” he says.
“Sure.”
Sean waits in the car as we start strolling. After walking a block in silence, we reach a wooden boardwalk along the edge of the sandy beach. The warm breeze envelopes us in a comfortable silence, and I take a deep breath, trying to stay in the moment and out of my head.
Declan’s voice shatters that attempt when he asks, “Why did you come back?”
“If only I knew that myself,” I want to tell him. Instead, I watch a seagull rip open the belly of a crab. His friend plucks out the watchful, blank eye of a dead fish.
I felt so sure of myself when I left the suite two nights ago. But when I reached the lobby, my feet just froze. My body refused to move out of the entrance into the night, my head feeling light and dizzy. I finally sat in a chair until I stopped feeling so faint.
As my head cleared, so did my resolve.
I know it’s bad to hang around Declan so much, but I thought…Anthony can’t really find me here, right?
I don’t have a phone. I didn’t buy a plane ticket or use my credit card. I’m untraceable. So…I have a little time.
Not a lot, but some.
Why not enjoy this paradise for a few more days? Why not allow myself this brief escape into a fantasy life before facing reality again?
Of course, when I returned to the suite, hoping to slip in unnoticed, Declan had been awake. Waiting. That completely threw off my confidence because I really didn’t want him knowing I had even thought of leaving without saying goodbye, especially after that mind-blowing sex.
Since then, I’ve been a mess of conflicted thoughts, going back and forth about whether or not I made the right decision in coming back.
Declan continues to wait patiently for my response as we stroll along the boardwalk. I know I owe him some kind of explanation, but I don’t even know where to begin. I certainly don’t want him knowing about my past, getting dragged deeper into it.
Instead of revealing the full truth, I give him half of it. “I thought we both needed more time to…to fuck each other out of our systems.”
He remains stone-faced, but nods. “I think you’re right. I’m craving more of your body. I haven’t yet been able to taste you.”
A sensation like warm honey drips through my torso and pools in my lower belly. I wasn’t really expecting that admission, but I should have—I know he’s a direct man.
Time for me to be direct, too, so we’re completely clear about what we’re doing and the boundaries. “Having a deadline will help,” I say. “You’re here seven more days, right? That’s plenty of time to just…do whatever we want with no pressure. When the days are up, we go back to our separate lives, keeping a fond memory of our time in Hawaii.”
Declan stops walking, turning to face me with a gaze that seems to peer through my dark sunglasses. “Seven days,” he repeats, his voice low. “Then we walk away. No strings, no regrets.”
I nod, my core clenching from just how much we can enjoy each other in a week.
He slips off my sunglasses with slow, purposeful movements, then hooks them on my dress collar. “Anything I want?”
“Everything.”
He cups the side of my neck, his thumb trailing the vulnerable center of my throat. “How could I possibly say no?” His lips press against mine in a kiss that’s both tender and electrifying.
I melt into him, my hands fisting his shirt and pulling him closer.
As I’m moaning into his open mouth while his tongue explores, a voice interrupts us.
“Hey,” the male voice says, getting closer.
Declan and I break apart to look at the man in a tropical Hawaiian shirt and swim shorts.
He lowers his sunglasses. “Hey, yeah, you’re…uh, Brass Knuckles, right? ‘Brass Knuckles’ Conte?” The guy stops a few feet away, grinning ear to ear, his pale skin nice and pink from the sun exposure. “Yeah, it’s you. Hey, man!” He tries to bro shake with Declan, but Declan remains unmoving, staring at the man with a tight frown.
The guy is undeterred, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Can I get a picture?”
“No,” Declan says sharply. “But I’ll do an autograph.”
The man is a little flustered by Declan’s sour attitude, but he pulls a napkin from his pocket and, miraculously, a pen.
As Declan tries to sign the thin paper without tearing it, the guy rattles on, “Man, I saw your fight against Martinez back in…fuck, wasn’t that like fifteen years ago? You were incredible! The way you took him down in the fourth round…legendary, man.”
Declan only grunts, finishing the sloppy, jagged autograph and handing it back.
The man grins at the napkin. Then his face suddenly drops, and he steps closer, lowering his voice. “Hey, listen, man, when I heard about your wife, I was just so—”
“If you’ll excuse us,” Declan cuts in, grabbing my elbow and pulling me away.
“Thanks, man!” the guy calls after us. “Miss seeing you in the ring!”
Declan continues to pull me away until there’s significant distance between us and the stranger.
My mind is racing, questions burning on my tongue as I stare up at his hardened profile. The chasm of what I don’t know about this man is so vast, so intimidating.
When he finally slows down and releases my elbow, I can’t hold back any longer. “You were a boxer?”
Declan nods, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “A long time ago.”
“Are…are you married?” Please don’t tell me I’m a fucking mistress. I’d be so pissed.
“A long time ago,” he echoes.
I want more details, to know about this part of his life, but I also don’t want to unlock that door. My past is hidden for a reason; his might be too. Besides, his vacant stare and the rigid set of his shoulders make it clear the subject is off-limits.
Suddenly, I glimpse it again: the similarity that connects us.
We’re two people with an open wound, and we desperately want it covered up.
He’s been doing so many kind, generous things for me without knowing anything about what I’m running from. Finally, there’s something I can do for him.
Entwining my fingers with his, I squeeze his hand and give him a big smile.
He looks startled, glancing down at our hands wrapped together. Then he gives me a questioning stare.
I only smile wider. “You know, it’s a beautiful day. The water here is the deepest turquoise-blue I’ve ever seen. The beach is one of my favorite places, so let’s keep walking and forget about that man. Let’s forget about everything except our little vacation.”
He glances at the sand, then the corner of his mouth turns up. He tightens his grip on my hand. “It’s one of my favorite places, too.”
With a temporary bandage for our wounds, we keep strolling along, hand in hand.