Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Declan
Her eyes flare and I realize what it sounds like.
But we’re close enough I can’t make myself say anything. I let it hang there, just a moment. She isn’t instantly repulsed by the idea. Just surprised. Which isn’t terrible.
I want to press my hand to her waist. Her hip. I want to drop my face to the curve of her neck and breathe her in.
I want to trail my lips over her clavicle and down between her breasts. I want to—
Stop.
Having her here, being this close, has shaken yet another screw loose.
That hug wasn’t enough.
But maybe it was too much.
Her lashes flutter, and the movement cracks the vision enough to prompt me. “If you want. I can sleep downstairs. Or we can get a bed for Charlie’s room if you’d prefer to share with him.”
A rough laugh tumbles out of her. “Right. Sure. Yes. Of course. Perfect. Thanks.”
The spell is broken. And I don’t know when I’ll get to be this close again. The next time she’s here, Charlie will be with her. That’s not bad news. In fact, I can’t wait to have him here. But I want just her, too.
I point out the linen closet like spare towels and sheets are a real thrill, and we return downstairs.
Our time is winding down, all the sand in our hourglass for tonight slipping away too soon, so I drag out the tour to show her the laundry room, the mud room that leads to the garage, and the stairs to the unfinished basement where the water heater and furnace are.
I stop short of leading her down there because it’s not a place she’ll need to go.
While we walk, we hash out a few details. She’ll keep her apartment because she owns it. She’ll want Charlie’s furniture moved over, and some of her clothes, but she’s not planning on bringing much else.
“Your home is so pretty and most of my stuff is a mishmash. If I end up renting it out, it can be furnished.”
There’s a flash where I could swear I can read her mind. She’s about to say something about how long we’ll be doing this—how long we’ll be married. I both want and deeply do not want her to ask.
So far, we haven’t identified an end date, but there will be one. There must be. Someday, she’ll want a husband she’s chosen, someone who owns her heart and isn’t with her for any reason other than to love her.
I haven’t convinced myself to bring this up. It would satisfy the part of me that yearns for clarity, but it might threaten the sliver of hope I’m not fully looking at or acknowledging. It’s best to leave it alone. Keep it simple.
And instead of voicing any of her thoughts, she smiles softly. It’s one of many expressions that effectively kills me.
“I should probably get back to Charlie.”
Her gaze is on mine. We’re standing by the door. My pulse is tachycardic for no good reason except standing near her and the dreadful reality that soon, she’ll be gone.
A hundred things flash through my mind for us to discuss. When does she want to start staying here? What should we tell my family if they ask about a honeymoon? What does she like to eat for breakfast? What can I do to make this easier on her?
“Thanks for coming over.”
It was so good having you here.
I love having you here.
I can’t wait for you to be here all the time.
We’ve promised each other honesty, but I don’t think that necessarily means dumping all the messy thoughts at her feet. Thank God.
“Thanks for having me.”
I am so grateful we aren’t sharing all our thoughts yet again because the ravenous little dog in my head is screaming, I’d love to have you. I’d have every bit of you.
And that’s not me.
Well, clearly it is, but it’s not the version of me I’m going to show her. She doesn’t need some pathetic man panting over her while she faces another huge transition in her life.
It’s this reminder that sobers me. It snaps me out of the droopy-eyed haze and straightens my spine.
“See you soon. Give my love to Charlie.”
And then, she’s gone.
I shut the door and lean against it, running a hand through my hair. “Idiot.” There’s no one to hear me, but maybe I need to hear me.
I’m going to need to put a screw-top lid on these feelings.
It’d be easier if she were any less… everything.
But damn if she isn’t even better than I already thought she was before I started learning more and more about her.
It’s inescapable, and having her living in my home, getting an up-close view of her day in and day out? It might just kill me.
A knock on the door makes me jump, and I’m smiling when I wrench it open. “Did you forget some—”
“Were you expecting someone else?” Finn stands at the door and just behind him is Grant.
“Evie just left.”
Finn’s face bursts into a gigantic grin. “Oh, well, we are a huge letdown, aren’t we?”
Grant would roll his eyes if that were something he does, but he maintains a neutral mask.
“Should we leave you alone with your thoughts? Come back later? Did you want to run after her dramatically?”
Grant shoots me a look, then shoves Finn out of the way.
“Yeah, we’re here to go through the schedule for Saturday, then we’ll leave you in peace.”
I step back so they can come through the door. A few minutes later, we’re out on the patio, and I realize Evie and I never finished our ice cream.
“Uh-oh, looks like things got interrupted. Did you two have a little rendezvous à la mode for dessert?” Finn flashes his brows.
I’m annoyed when my heart kicks in approval at the idea.
“No. We were discussing moving details, and I wanted to show her the paint color I used for Charlie’s room.”
I ignore Grant’s piercing gaze. I’ve avoided him effectively enough that I haven’t outright admitted this is all for the custody hearing.
I’d rather not say it out loud, but if he gets me alone, it’s unlikely I’ll be able to avoid it.
He’s been swamped at work, and he must be appeased by whatever Sam has told him after her time with Evie.
In the end, he’ll pin me down, I have no doubt.
Finn produces a folded piece of paper and makes a show of spreading it out to straighten the creases on the table. He talks through each time slot as though I’m too slow to read it myself, never mind the fact that my mother sent this same schedule to everyone in the family with clear instructions.
He finally ends his chatter, and I walk them back to the door. Finn exits, but Grant pulls the door shut, folds his arms, and gives me one of his signature looks. It’s his “I’m the oldest and you need to tell me everything” look, and he’s not getting what he wants.
From the other side of the door, we can hear a muffled Finn. “What the hell?”
“He’ll be fine. Your turn.” Grant brought his boss mode with him.
“All good. Ready for Saturday. No questions.” Keep it simple. Give him nothing to grab on to. That’s the only way out of this.
He hasn’t outright asked me if this is all for the sake of the custody issue, but Evie’s closest friend here is Sam, so there’s no way he doesn’t know from her even if he hadn’t figured it out on his own. And I’m certain he already had.
“Mm. And what if I have questions?”
I don’t respond. It is a skill I mastered in elementary school and has served to drive him and all of my siblings save Mac crazy. He’s the only one who also has the ability, and he might’ve nailed it earlier than I did.
“I need to know you’re okay.”
That’s always his motivation. Some might mistake his pushy way for needing control, but at his root, he is desperate to take care of people.
It’s this knowledge that moves me to respond. “I am okay. I promise you.”
He studies me in silence. I don’t want to withhold from him, but I also don’t want to have to say it’s all a sham. Because it’s not. We may not be doing this the traditional way, I believe it can be functional. No, we won’t have the romantic elements, of course, but it can be good. It will be.
“You like her.”
“Yes.” No point in denying it. He’s seen it for months.
“And she knows that? She feels the same?” His concern is vivid in the way his forehead wrinkles and his mouth turns down.
He’s not a naturally smiling person, not like our da or Finn, but he’s been so much less severe since Sam came into his life. Seeing him like this again makes guilt coil in my gut.
“We’re not involving feelings. But we’re on the same page. I’m not concerned.” It’s not the first time I’ve lied to him, but it’s perhaps the most egregious lie I’ve told him.
The truth is, we haven’t discussed feelings. We haven’t even talked about how long we think this will go on, or what we’re even aiming for.
The truth is, I have no doubt I can be a good partner to Evie and Charlie. But as far as my heart? Where I’m heading?
I am absolutely concerned.