Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Evie
Mary Ryan is a miracle worker and a genius, and a sneak. It’s a baffling, wonderful combo.
The wedding has been a dream, and here at the end of the night as I slide into a limo she’s hired for us, she gives me one long hug.
“Welcome to the family.”
But it’s this that had me thanking Declan. I wanted to say so many things, but that came out. I saw him blink almost like I’d slapped him, though I can’t say why. He’s said he doesn’t want my gratitude and I get it. But how can I not tell him?
This was amazing. I want to kiss you again. I’ve wanted you for so long and this is all so surreal.
I’d like to get to the body worshipping part now.
So many thoughts shot through my head, but the resounding note was gratitude and love for this person who was giving up so much for me and Charlie.
My tears were happy, yes, but they were also a heart-crushing ache as I thought about how happy everyone was for Declan.
Yes, of course, for me, but his family was elated.
Their smiles spread so wide their faces were in danger of splitting open.
I couldn’t pretend this isn’t a sacrifice when I witnessed them. They were all so connected and supportive of each other, and he was allowing me to fold into that.
There’s no escaping it, and I’m glad I had the reminder. I can’t get carried away in the fairytale Mary has created. I need to keep my feet on the ground and remember what I owe him. That he’s done this out of kindness.
Yes, our kiss was fire, and even the one during the ceremony sent a shiver of anticipation through me, but that’s just chemistry. And maybe my crush.
By the time the limo drives away and the road behind us is littered with sunflower petals from everyone tossing them as we rushed out to the car, my heart has resumed the slow, steady ache.
It’s not unfamiliar. If anything, it has intensified lately.
It’s not until the limo is trundling down the long road away from the Ryan farmhouse that nerves hit me. The driver rolls up the privacy screen, and Declan and I are alone, truly alone, for the first time since our dinner at his house.
Soon to be our house.
Declan is completely silent, but I can’t sit here with my thoughts and feelings brimming and keep them from spilling over.
“I can’t believe they did all that.” The Ryans had pulled together a truly impressive party. Most of the details fell to Mary, May, and Sam, but I also discovered Connor and Finn had quite a bit to do with it.
Gorgeous flowers, amazing food, a string quartet for the ceremony and a DJ for the reception… I would’ve thought it’d been planned months ago.
“One thing you’ll learn is they’ll do anything for family.” He speaks without looking at me.
Is he okay?
Has this all been too much for him? He’s absolutely an introvert, and in the same way I feel that squeeze of my heart when I think of his family rejoicing so thoroughly over him getting married, maybe he feels it, too.
I don’t want to be the person who constantly asks, but I have to do that now. “Declan, are you okay?”
He turns toward me.
“Yes.”
His smile is a bit forced, but I can’t tell if it’s due to being exhausted, or something else.
“I’m really grateful you—”
“No, please.” He looks away, back out the window so all I can see is the line of his jaw and his thick neck straining away from me.
“Sorry.”
He turns back. “You don’t need to apologize, Evie, and you don’t need to be grateful. Please.” His eyes fall shut for a moment and he almost looks like he’s in pain. “I can’t take it.”
My heart sinks and my mouth falls open, but I have no idea what to say. Certainly not I’m sorry, apparently. I’m downright stumped here.
And hurt. I don’t know why this is hurting so much, but it is.
I want to hug him. I want to turn his face to me and make him talk, explain himself, use words to tell me what’s wrong and how I can fix it. I want to kiss him. I want to go home to the house we’ll share and make love like a newlywed couple who chose this.
I’ve never felt he was withholding, but right now, it’s like he’s locked himself on the other side of a glass door. I can see him, but I can’t reach him.
I hate where my head goes, but it barrels right back to a familiar fear. What if I don’t really know him? What if this is all just a show and any moment now, he’ll stop being so lovely and reveal how much he regrets this? How beneath him I am?
We’re quiet, the sun setting in the west and painting the sky that brilliant orange and pink and casting the world in an unearthly glow as we drive.
Then the car stops and I realize we’re parked outside of my apartment.
Declan exits, then arrives at my side right as the driver opens my door.
He holds out a hand and I take it, our gazes snagging.
Holding for a beat before he blinks away.
Why does my chest feel like it’s caving in?
Why did I let that kiss, those vows, this whole day fool me?
We walk to the entrance, and he holds the door for me. We ascend the stairs, then knock quietly on the door. Clementine answers with a grin.
“He just woke up and had a snack. Congratulations, you two.”
If she thinks it’s weird we didn’t arrange an overnight sitter for Charlie on our wedding day, she doesn’t show it.
If she thinks it’s odd the limo is idling outside even though we’re here, I’m betting we’ll never know.
She waves goodbye to Charlie, who’s sitting in the middle of the carpet in the living room playing with blocks, then grabs her things and slips out.
Declan comes farther inside once she’s gone, eyes searching and assessing every bit of the apartment.
I love this space, and even though it’s small, it’s perfect for us.
I’m reminding myself of that after letting my mind wander over all the space in his house lately.
It’s good to remember that whenever we end up back here, this is all we need.
And we will end up back here. Even if we haven’t put a specific date on this marriage, who knows how long it’ll last. I’m less sure than ever, and it’s whiplash after the day’s events.
Charlie stands and toddles over. I pick him up and accept his hug. I savor it, needing it more than ever tonight.
“Dec! Hi, Dec! Mama!”
He’s so chipper and sweet, everything in me aches. It’s the theme of the day.
He lunges for Declan, and my new husband catches him without reservation. He smiles at Charlie and touches his forehead to my son’s.
“Hi, Charlie. Did you have fun today?”
“Yeah!”
“Good. I’m glad.” Declan’s blue gaze finds mine for a second before he adds, “I’m going to have to give you back to your mama so I can get home.”
This was always the plan, I remind myself. We were never going to spend the night together. That’s not what this is. It’s not even that I’m desperate for the physical parts. It just feels so awful to say goodbye right now, and I can’t even identify why.
Except I’m not a stupid woman, so of course I know why.
After such a beautiful day, I wish with everything I am that this was real.
That we had a future. And his clipped response in the limo paired with him leaving now, before we can talk about anything…
all of it confirms it is precisely what we agreed it is.
It’s human to feel this gnawing sadness. It’s understandable. I only wish there were some way I could stop it—but whether I mean the feeling or the reality that this is simply an arrangement, I’m not sure.
Maybe worse, it has shoved me firmly back into the self-doubt I’ve tried to master. It’s less about doubting Declan, even, and more about suspecting that I have, yet again, been taken in by a mirage. But this time, it’s one of my own making.
When Declan reaches the door, he opens it but pauses. Charlie is gnawing on a teether toy, then squirms to get down, so I set his feet on the hardwood, and he lumbers back toward the rug and his other toys.
“Thank you for today.” His voice is low and gruff.
“You can thank me, but I can’t thank you?” There’s an obvious edge to my response.
“Yes.”
I scowl.
“I’m sorry.”
Oh no, he didn’t. “You can apologize, and I can’t?”
He shrugs the smallest bit.
Our gazes are stitched together, and the moment tightens around us. Something shifts, I can’t tell what. His eyes turn hungry and heated. His focus drops to my mouth, then pops back up.
“You are a breathtaking bride, Evie. You’re an even more beautiful person. I’m honored to be your husband, and I promise you I’ll do whatever I can to be a good one.”
It’s hard to swallow past the lump in my throat, but I manage it. I can’t speak, though, so I just stand there.
It feels like there’s more he’s going to say.
He lingers, eyes shifting between mine. My pathetic little heart is waiting, waiting for a little something more.
Waiting for a sign that all of this affected him like it did me, and that maybe there’s more here than just doing this for the optics.
That maybe I haven’t done the wrong thing, or fooled myself yet again.
But he doesn’t say anything else except, “Goodnight, wife,” and then he leaves.
Heroically, I keep it together another two and a half hours before I put Charlie to bed.
Then I cry myself to sleep on my wedding night.