Chapter 38
DARREN
I should have picked her up.
Shit, did I already mess this up? My one chance, and I ruined it already by not fighting her on her decision to meet me at my place instead of being picked up properly. It’s not like it would have taken that long. I could have been there and back before the grill got to cooking temperature.
Instead, I’m pacing in my kitchen while the chicken breasts and salad chill in the fridge beside the three bottles of white wine that I couldn’t choose between at the store earlier. I haven’t seen the house cleaner that it is right now, and that’s a bit more embarrassing than it should be.
I reach up to squeeze the brim of my hat, but my hand swipes hair instead.
Fuck. My hat is still in my bedroom, abandoned.
Both Poppy and Bryce threatened me with no babysitting for the next three years if I wore it tonight.
Apparently, there’s a time and place for a baseball cap, and a first date with your high school sweetheart isn’t one of them.
Sliding open the patio door, I take a deep breath.
There won’t be many more nights where I’m up to cooking on the deck with the snow approaching.
I’m bitter about that, considering I’m a chef who sucks at everything that isn’t chucked on a hot grill.
If I get the chance to cook for Delaney again, I’ll have to try not to reveal my lack of skills in the kitchen.
I keep the door open but venture into the living room. The DVDs on the coffee table are old, with scratched disks and faded artwork, but for tonight, they’ll be perfect. Most of them are Delaney’s, anyway. After all these years, she needs the option to take them back.
The three knocks on the door are staggered awkwardly and light enough that I nearly don’t catch them. In a blink, I’m twisting the doorknob and staring at her through the fogged glass window.
Even the early look can’t prepare me for what I see when I open the door. My knees wobble as I tighten my hold on the door and let loose a whispered “fuck.”
With her platinum hair twisted and tied at her back, Delaney slowly lifts her eyes from my feet to my awed stare. The corners of her glossy pink lips curl slightly, giving a tease of a smile that only makes me want to try really fucking hard to see the real thing.
I break eye contact just long enough to do a sweep of her, top to bottom and back again.
Expectations didn’t exist tonight, but even so, she managed to destroy any that I could have ever had.
The black tights, burnt-orange dress with the sleeves flowing down to her wrists, and knee-high, heeled boots shouldn’t look this good on anyone.
Yet, Delaney has a way of making everything she wears look custom-made.
The boots make her legs look a million miles long, and the dress is loose yet still clings to the pinch of her waist and curves of her chest. It’s the perfect look for her, and fuck me, I’m so screwed tonight.
Swallowing the excess liquid in my mouth, I tighten my grip on the doorknob and find her eyes again, trying my best to make sure she can see just how blown away I am with her before I open my mouth to tell her.
“You look phenomenal. You’re gorgeous,” I rasp.
Her blush is pink enough to show beneath her makeup. “ Ditto. You look very handsome. And you’re not wearing your hat.”
I run a hand over my hair. “Yeah, I figured I should prove to you that I haven’t balded in the last ten years.”
The jump of her brows is followed by a rough, coughed laugh. I join in, too far gone to be embarrassed.
“Thanks. I appreciate that,” she says between coughs.
“Anytime. Though maybe I’ll save some of these moments for when I’m not trying to impress you. I’m not interested in losing more points tonight.”
“What other points have you lost?”
I watch as she bends down and starts unzipping her boots.
The sight of calves hasn’t really turned me on before, but maybe that’s because they weren’t hers, and when they were, I wasn’t paying this much attention to them.
When Delaney was mine, all of her was. Now .
. . I’m growing more fascinated by all of the parts of her that I never gave the proper attention to before.
“Not insisting on picking you up, for one. I’ve always picked you up.”
“I’m not sixteen anymore.”
“Oh, I’m aware of that,” I mutter.
She looks up from her second boot. “What does that mean?”
“Slow, Elle. We’re going slow, right?” I ask, pressing a hand to her back to stabilize her when she tugs off her boot and loses her balance.
“Delaney,” she corrects me briskly. “And what? Your answer wouldn’t follow my rules?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Okay.”
She stands, and I keep my hand on her back while guiding us through the entry and into the living room.
The gold chain around her neck and cupping the base of her throat makes the one I’m wearing itch.
I wait for her to say something about the house, but she stays quiet, her attention floating around the room .
“It’s pretty small. The house,” I say, needing to fill the silence with something.
“I never meant to stay here forever. There aren’t enough rooms, especially now that Abbie’s started using the guest one for her jewellery making.
I’d like a real dining room too. Especially now that my sister’s moving closer and we’re going to need somewhere in town for holidays.
Our parents’ house is too small, and Poppy mentioned wanting kids soon?—”
“It’s beautiful, Darren. This is the house you used to draw in your sketchbook all the time, right?”
I furrow my brows, letting my hand fall when she moves further into the space. “It is. With a few changes. The one I used to draw wasn’t exactly affordable for me at the time. I barely got the mortgage for this place.”
She wanders to the wall of built-ins and examines the lack of books on the shelves. There are photos of Abbie on nearly every single one instead.
“I’ll get more books for them eventually,” I say.
Her teasing smile makes my stomach flip. “Maybe a few fake plants instead?”
“That’s probably a better idea.”
“I never took you for a magazine guy.”
The stacks she’s talking about are the ones Poppy forced me to keep.
Each copy has an article featuring a piece of architecture that I was involved in creating.
From this place to Brody and Anna’s house on Steele Ranch and a few other apartment buildings in Calgary that I built with the company I work for.
I’ve had a successful career, but it’s never meant anything to me more than that.
Not when I’ve been celebrating my accomplishments alone.
“I’m not usually. But you know how my sister is. She buys five copies of every edition with my name in it and makes sure everyone has a copy,” I say.
Delaney chuckles softly, nodding. “Yeah, I know. She sent me clippings of every article in the mail once we started speaking more. ”
“You’ve read them?”
“No,” she admits, turning back to the stack of magazines. The tips of her fingers run along the bottom edge of the first one. “I couldn’t get myself to.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Can I read them now?”
I pause, frozen in place. “You don’t have to. They’re pretty useless.”
“They’re not useless, Darren. Your talent has been noticed in a very public way. That says a lot about how great you are at what you do.”
“Alright. Read them,” I murmur, letting it go. “I’m going to get the food dished up.”
She’ll piece together why I didn’t want her to read them here the second she opens the first magazine.
“What did you make?” she asks before I get too far.
“Worried I made something you’ll hate?”
“No. I’m more worried I’ll eat too much and wind up too bloated to sleep tonight.”
Pride rushes through me. “Chicken with Greek salad.”
“Did Abbie tell on me today?”
“About chicken and salad?” I ask, playing dumb.
Delaney glances away and picks up the magazine before a low, soft laugh escapes her. “Go away now.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Five minutes later, I’m slicing the last half of my chicken into chunks when the air shifts.
Her tight-covered feet help muffle the sound of her footsteps as she joins me at the counter, examining the food I’ve made.
I keep silent, finishing with my plate and pulling hers closer before picking them both up.
“Table or living room?”
Her reply is lagged and wispy. “Living room.”
I carry our food out of the kitchen and set both plates on the coffee table. Delaney sits on the couch while I grab the first movie on the stack and get to work. The DVD player sucks in the disk before I switch the TV onto the proper settings and join her.
“Those are all my movies,” she states, sitting with her knees touching and hands folded above them.
“You can take them home with you tonight. I’ve held on to them long enough.”
“What if I don’t want to take them home?”
It’s impossible for me not to read too far into that question. My mind immediately fills with a list of the million reasons as to what she means and the reason behind the question before I blurt out, “Why not?”
She moves. Suddenly, her knees are tucked beneath her, and she’s facing me, expression half-broken and half-disbelieving.
The clash of emotions is strong, rocking through her to me, even with the distance between us.
She sets her arm on the couch back and tips forward enough for her knees to hit the outside of my thigh.
“You had ten years, Darren. Ten years to build me a house that you dreamed of with all of my favourite quirks and additions. Where you’d make me my favourite food, spend a night watching all of my favourite movies on a couch just like this, but beside me.
You had every chance in the world to get me back, but you didn’t.
You waited, and waited, until I became so secluded from my old life that I feared so much as hearing your name in public.
“All this time apart, and you were giving interviews for magazine articles mentioning me and us and a past that used to keep me up at night with tears in my eyes and an ache in my chest. Now, I’m left with knowing that I could have been here sooner.
You married someone else, and I thought and hoped that you were happy doing that.
At least, enough to stay in that marriage for years longer than you should have.
I never said anything to you, or anyone, about it because I assumed you knew what you were doing.
But you didn’t, did you? Because all this time, you’ve been wanting me just as badly as I’ve been wanting you, and I don’t know what to do with that! ”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond before dropping herself in my lap and taking my shirt in her fists. I swallow, my body coming to life in a way that leaves me breathless, unable to fill my lungs.
“I’ve been in love with you for half my life, and you didn’t fight for me.
You told me to go and didn’t chase after me.
I’ve been waiting for you to do that for eight years.
At every street corner, knock on my door, and my grandma’s funeral, I hoped you’d show up, needing me as badly as I needed you.
I needed you at the funeral, Darren, and you weren’t there. ”
I slide my hand behind her head and lean forward, bringing our faces an inch apart. Her eyes fall shut as an exhale drifts across my lips.
“I was there,” I whisper, blades sinking into every corner of my stomach.
Her lashes flutter as she stares at me. “Where?”
“The funeral. I was there, but I stayed back beside the Steeles. You were grieving, Elle. I didn’t think it was the right time to show up beside you. It wouldn’t have been fair after everything that happened.”
She presses her forehead to mine and shoves me into the couch.
“Kiss me, Darren.”