Chapter 13
Warner
The cab next to ours lays on its horn. It’s the first sound in six blocks, and I’m coming out of my skin.
It isn’t like Delaney to sit quietly. At least not the version of her I know so far.
But it doesn’t take a genius to know when she’s quiet that she’s either devising her next step to torture me more or something else has briefly stolen her attention.
Maybe I’m finally getting to her, closer to cracking her chaotic outer shell or throwing in the towel and ending this ridiculousness she’s caught us in.
I’m surprised the silent treatment is working.
I’ve never fallen for it before. Never been worried enough to entertain such a petulant act.
Refusing to indulge her anymore, I ask, “What’s on your mind? ”
Do I think she’ll tell me the truth? She might. I don’t think every word out of her mouth is a lie. I just don’t know how to decipher between her lies and the truth. Yet. She’s harder to read than most, which I suppose is on purpose since, so far, I’ve not seen the real Delaney.
With a great outer package, a clever mind, and whip-smart mouth, I’m curious if there’s a side of her that isn’t on all the time. She replies, “You really want to know, Warner?”
“I really want to know, Delaney.” I crack a grin and dare to slide my hand over and loop my little finger over hers.
She glances down at the connection but doesn’t move away. “A lot happened today.” I want to fill the void when she pauses, but I don’t because I want to know what she thinks about, what upsets her, and makes her happy.
Shit, I care?
My chest tightens, so I reach up before remembering my arm is broken. I use my exposed fingers to massage the knot that’s forming inside me, hoping to make it disappear.
Caring is an impossibility. It’s only been two days.
That would be illogical. I always keep my feelings in check.
That’s not going to change just because her bottom lip shines, drawing my gaze every time I look at her, or the way she wears a pair of jeans.
I like how the denim hugs her hips. I can admire her appearance without letting my feelings loose to roam.
That’s how caring happens. Did I just mentally travel a loop to end up where I started? Damn, she’s rubbing off on me.
She says, “You saved me and then. . .” Her gaze moves through the windshield and distances.
“You were.” A shake of her head casts her eyes down to her lap.
“It was a lot today. My emotions are sort of tattered at the moment. I’ll be fine, but slowing down has given my mind too much time to process what happened. ”
“Seems we’re even.”
I catch the start of a smile despite a lackluster effort to restrain it. When she looks over at me in the back of the cab, she laughs. It’s light but feels freeing, the sound even working on me. “Seems we are.” Pointing at me, she adds, “Just this one time, though.”
“I agree. I can’t wait to have you owing me.”
Laughter trickles off as her eyebrow arches. “What would I possibly owe you for?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure I can find something to hold over your head. I mean . . . it wouldn’t be hard. You’re not much bigger than a kitten.”
“Wow, not even a full-grown cat, huh?”
My lips tighten while shaking my head. “I’m afraid not, but that’s for you to take up with your parents.” New ammunition is locked and loaded, ready to fire. And go! “How are they by the way? It’s been too long since we’ve met them for dinner.”
Horror steals the lightheartedness of the conversation as she briefly looks away from me. When she turns back, the way her bottom lip quivers causes my stomach to drop. “That’s not funny. Don’t joke about my dead dad. He’s off-limits.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Delaney. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Fuck me.
Her forehead is furrowed, but she says, “We’ll blame it on the concussion since you have a touch of amnesia. Though I’d say more than a touch, considering you gave the eulogy.”
What do I say to that? I’m lying out my ass, but this is taking it too far. “Hey,” I say, my voice lower to match the somberness overtaking the car. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. I really am.”
“You should be.” She bursts out laughing. Reaching over, her hand lands on my leg, and she pats me, “My dad is alive and well. You really do have amnesia. I wasn’t sure, but dang, you fell right into that trap.”
Now I’m really left speechless. She’s no amateur. I need to up my game.
“I haven’t forgotten everything.”
If sweating bullets were a real thing, she’d be a prime example. “Have you started to remember?”
“Yes.” Inserting a pregnant pause gives me time to study her reaction.
If I didn’t know she was fucking around with me, I would consider this a major asshole move.
She wipes across her forehead with the back of her hand.
Fine. I’ll put her out of her misery. “Only flashes here or there. For some reason, your friend popped into my head. The blonde.” Or I’ll drag this out a little longer. “What’s her name again?”
“Juniper?” A gulp practically swallows the end of the name. She tucks her hair behind her ear and glances past me through the window as if tracking her place in the city for her escape.
I have no fucking idea what her friend’s name is, but I snap my fingers.
“That’s it.” It’s the look we exchange in the lowlight of the back seat that puts us on a level playing field.
This is the first time she’s been backed into a corner.
Hope she recognizes the sound of triumph.
Because it’s coming. “Anyway, I didn’t get much else. ”
“That’s too bad. Oh look,” she says just as the car pulls to the curb, “we’re home.” I glance out the window, giving her the distraction she desperately needs.
“Time flew by.”
“Yep. Here we are.” I pop the door open and step out.
She slips her hand in mine when I hold it out for her.
The relief on her face has me grinning. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in a long time.
Even if it is with malicious intent, it feels like winning, and that's my favorite thing to do. That and closing deals. When she’s steady on the sidewalk, we’re face to well, my chest, but I tilt my head to the side to get a good look into those pretty eyes of hers.
The building tension inside the taxi has disappeared.
“Here we are, home again,” she says with a spark of light shining in her eyes like she got away with something.
It’s quite the accomplishment to gain the upper hand after we were tied just minutes before.
I’ll take the credit and do a victory lap, mentally patting myself on the back.
A doorman rushes from the other side to open the door for us. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” I reply. “Was a package delivered for the penthouse? Landers.”
Grinning like he’s happy to have company, he says, “Yes, sir. Not five minutes ago.” He jogs around the counter and sets a small cooler on it.
Delaney shoots me a look, though her widened eyes give away that she might be impressed. “Having a party, Landers?”
“Party for two.” I tap her on the nose, leaving her speechless, and turn back to the doorman. “We haven’t met. I’m Warner Landers.” I hold out my hand, which he shakes with vigor.
Grinning ear to ear, he replies, “Robert, but you can call me Rob.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Angling to my side, I add, “This is my wife, Delaney.” I grin as soon as she starts choking on her saliva. Rubbing her back, I lean in and whisper, “Are you okay, honey?”
Her breathing is as rapid as her blinks.
“Fine.” She clears her throat. “All good.” Redirecting her eyes to Robert, she says, “It’s nice to meet you.
” She’s not much louder than a mouse, but her smile could knock any man on his ass.
Fortunately, she’s not dealing with any guy.
She’s dealing with me, and since she came to play, I’ll play.
“You, too.” Rob says, “Let me know if you ever need anything.”
“We will,” I say, taking the cooler by the small handle. It’s disconcerting how easy it is to fall into the pattern of marriage with Delaney. At least to the outside world. Holding out my broken arm, she latches onto it, and we walk onto a waiting elevator.
As soon as the door closes, she flies across the small space, gripping the railing behind her as if she’s holding on for dear life. Releasing one hand, she gestures to my face with two fingers aimed like darting her eyes on the targets of mine. “What are you doing, Warner?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, tossing gullibility into my tone for kicks since that’s what she considers me. I’m surprised the elevator can hold such an epic eye roll. I don’t bother to contain my laughter.
Annoyance narrows her eyes before she glances up at the floor indicator. “This is my wife,” she mocks, her voice transformed into a silly version of her own. “I’m Mr. CEO who can have anything I want at any hour.”
“Not anything,” I correct.
“What can’t you have? Name one thing that you can’t afford to have delivered to your door at any hour.”
“You.” There’s no teasing in my tone and no smugness in my expression. I start to question if I just answered honestly.
She parts her lips, and her chest rises in response. Glancing down at her shoes, she twists her ankles to the side and then stands upright again. There’s a softness to the outer corners of her eyes, easing the tension she was gripping in her shoulders. “You had me.”
“And lost you.” My breathing deepens without permission, the lie digging into my chest and wrapping around that knot again. “You’re here. You’ve been with me since the hospital, barely leaving my side. Are you staying?”
The elevator dings, alerting us to our floor and breaking the spell I was falling under. Method acting is intense. When the doors slide open, she gets off quietly. Our bubble has been invaded by the outside world. We walk, but neither of us breaks the silence.