Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DECLAN
The chaos at the table settled back into its normal rhythm like nothing had happened. Like Penelope’s world hadn’t been turned upside down by one offhand comment.
I was pretty sure I’d been the only one to notice just how much the mere mention of The House of Sovereign Sin had affected her. And her visceral response made me grateful as fuck I’d been interrupted earlier before I could tell her what had happened at the shop this afternoon.
Otherwise, I had no doubt she would’ve escaped before Mom had set the bowls on the table.
Now, Lincoln was loudly arguing with Rowan’s boys about something irrelevant. Chloe had launched into a tangent about lunar energy and everyone’s chakras needing to be realigned. Emma’s swear jar was already fuller than it had been ten minutes ago.
But Penelope’s shoulders were still tight, her entire body tense like she was bracing for something and couldn’t allow herself to relax.
By her reaction—the way her smile had faltered and something guarded had replaced the light that usually shone in her eyes—I knew that was the first time her dual lives had ever crossed.
And she was still reeling from it.
She lasted exactly four more minutes. Four minutes of nodding along and laughing on cue, all the while pretending she wasn’t already halfway out the door.
“Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner, Holly. But I think I’m going to head home.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “I’ve got a bit of a headache.”
Mom’s gaze shot to Penelope, concern etched on her features, before she shifted her attention to me. “You take her home.”
I was already on my feet before she’d even finished her sentence.
“Oh, no.” Penelope shook her head. “That’s not necessary. He can stay and hang out. I can drive myself.”
Mom waved her off. “That’s silly. Declan can walk over and grab his bike tomorrow. It’s ten minutes. And you look pale.”
“I’m okay, really. Probably just tired.”
“Then you definitely shouldn’t drive,” I said, daring her to argue.
She shot me a look, and I diligently ignored it.
Mom stood and headed toward the kitchen. “Declan, come grab some leftovers before you go.”
Penelope tried to protest again, but I’d already followed Mom out of the room.
Even though the kitchen was directly off the dining room, it still felt private with just the two of us in here. Mom moved around with easy efficiency, pulling containers from the cabinet like this was any other Sunday and she hadn’t invited my—Penelope—over.
“She fits in,” Mom said, not looking at me. Pretending this was a conversation we’d had a thousand times before, when it had actually happened exactly zero.
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.” She ladled stew into a container and snapped the lid into place. “I’m observing.”
“We’re just roommates.” The word tasted wrong in my mouth, but I forced myself to continue. “Temporarily.”
She paused at that. Not dramatically, but long enough to let the words hang in the air between us. Then she tipped her head toward the dining room, where Penelope smiled at something Laurel said, looking like she fit, even now when she was desperate to leave.
“You sure about that?” Mom asked quietly.
My jaw flexed, but I didn’t answer. Partially because this wasn’t the time or place to have this conversation. But mostly because I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
“You’ve never been the one who walks away just because something feels scary,” she said evenly. “Don’t start now.”
“We’re just roommates,” I repeated, though it sounded even thinner the second time.
Mom’s mouth curved slightly. “Then I guess you don’t have anything to be afraid of.”
She handed me the containers, and I walked away before she could say more.
The drive back to the apartment was quiet. Not tense. Not angry. Just…heavy.
Penelope stared out the window, fingers folded too tightly in her lap, her shoulders still tense. Like even here when it was just the two of us, she couldn’t allow herself to take a deep breath.
As soon as we stepped inside the apartment, she slipped off her shoes and headed into the kitchen. Made herself busy so the evening couldn’t catch up to her.
I shut the door behind us and set the leftovers in the fridge while she bustled around, moving from the sink to the stove to the fridge. Just doing little things like wiping the nonexistent water drops off the faucet and adjusting the towel that hung on the stove.
I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water before sliding it across the counter toward her. “Drink.”
She blinked at me like she’d forgotten I was even there. I tipped my head toward the glass, and she relented, taking a long sip before exhaling deeply.
That was a good start.
Leaning back against the counter, I folded my arms over my chest and kept my gaze locked on her. “You went quiet after dinner.”
“It was just the headache,” she said too quickly.
“No, it wasn’t.”
She pressed her mouth into a thin line and stared at her half-empty glass instead of at me.
“Was it the book?” I asked.
Tightening her fingers around the glass, she exhaled slowly. “It was just… It was a lot.”
I could understand that. It had to be jarring to have your work discussed in front of you when it had been a solitary secret for so long.
But even though she couldn’t share that it was hers, I’d still expected her to be quietly bursting with pride over what she’d accomplished, not trying to hide under the table at the mere mention of it.
“Because they were talking about it?”
She nodded once. “It’s never hit that close to home before. Like, not even remotely. I guess I just wasn’t ready for it.”
I pushed off the counter and stepped closer. “I knew Rowan was reading it before she said something at dinner.”
Penelope snapped her gaze to mine. “You did?”
“Yeah. She told me earlier today at the shop. Wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Penelope worried her bottom lip, uncertainty in her eyes as she stared up at me. “You didn’t tell her it was mine?”
“What?” I frowned. “No. I told you I wouldn’t.”
And I’d meant it. Her writing was hers. She got to decide when and if she let people know she and Eden were one and the same. And if she did tell someone and didn’t receive a positive response? I’d burn the whole goddamn place down before I let someone make her feel small about her accomplishments.
She searched my face, so much uncertainty swimming in her eyes.
“Hearing her talk about your book like that…I was proud as hell of you.” I cupped her nape, sliding a thumb under her chin to tip her head back. “And you should be too.”
“It just feels like it’s getting closer.
Too close. Like my lives are starting to overlap.
And I don’t—” She swallowed and shook her head.
“I don’t know how to exist in both worlds.
One where I lead story time for toddlers and preschoolers, and the other where I ask my roommate for sex lessons because I don’t know enough about the filthy things I’m writing. ”
“You don’t need to worry about it,” I said, reassuring her how I knew she needed right now. “We’re the only two people who know. No one else will find out unless you want them to.”
She nodded and let out a slow breath, her exhale sounding like it carried the weight of the world inside. But she was still wound tight, still lost in her thoughts.
I lowered my face to her neck, brushing my lips up the line of her throat. “You’re still in your head.”
She didn’t bother denying it. There was no use when we both knew it was true.
“I know how to distract you.” I cupped the side of her neck, ran my thumb along the edge of her jaw, and kissed her.
She made a soft, startled sound against my lips as I swept my tongue inside, tasting her slow and sweet. Like we had all the time in the world and planned to use every goddamn second of it with her mouth against mine.
The tension in her shoulders eased, and she gradually melted against me until the only thing keeping her upright was my arm banded around her waist. I angled her head to deepen the kiss, and she arched into me, soft and pliant and finally, finally not thinking about a single thing except my mouth on hers.
“There she is,” I murmured against her lips. “There’s my girl.”
She whimpered—a tiny, breathy sound that went straight to my cock—and I groaned in response, dragging my teeth over her bottom lip just to hear her do it again. She did, louder this time, as she slid her fingers up the back of my neck and into my hair. Gripping hard and holding me tight to her.
This was just supposed to be a kiss. Just something to get her mind off everything that happened tonight. But she was rolling her hips against me, practically trying to climb up my body, and I stopped attempting to hold myself back.
I bent low enough to scoop an arm under her ass and hauled her up, settling her hot little pussy directly against my aching cock. She moaned and wrapped her legs around my waist, rocking against me, and my control snapped.
With her ass cupped in my palms, I strode straight down the hallway and to my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us. I didn’t have it in me to worry about where Darcy was and didn’t want any interruptions.
Not when I was about to be inside her for the second time.