Chapter 80
“Morning,” Declan says with a soft smile as I toss my bag into his trunk and settle into the passenger seat.
“Morning.” I smile back, placing my to-go coffee in the cup holder. Checking out his outfit, I tease, “Adam Black loves Shirts.” He’s wearing a white Shirts button-down with the sleeves rolled up.
“Do you know how hard it is to find dress shirts at my height?”
“Probably as hard as it is for me to find jeans at my height.”
He chuckles before saying, “You look nice.” My first thought is how this dress is tighter than I remember.
“No flirting,” I remind him, then awkwardly look at him as he starts driving toward the town of Lake Geneva.
“How are you feeling about yesterday?” he asks after a silent minute.
“It was a lot.”
“How do you feel about the wake now?”
“I’m happy I did it. Thank you. I would not have gone if I had known it would be at his house.”
“I wasn’t out of line?” he asks, and I hear the nervousness and unease in his tone.
“I’d love to hear what your therapist would have to say about it,” I joke.
“I could call him if you like,” Declan says.
“I’m kidding.” I laugh and take a sip of my coffee.
Declan’s face. It’s that matrix of emotions.
“What?” I ask with an edge.
“If you decided to go back to therapy?—”
“Nope.” I cut him off. “I’ll stop you right there.”
“Why not go?” He raises a brow.
“I’m happy.” I pause, staring into his blue eyes. “I’m successful.”
“So, there’s nothing you want to be better at?”
“There’s plenty I want to be better at.”
“Like?” He presses with a smirk.
“Like … I don’t want to lie as much.”
He nods, considering that. “Are you a reader?” he asks, and I take in how soft he is today. There isn’t any edge or frustration between us. Friends. I guess this is what being friends is like.
“Not really.”
“Could I suggest a few books to you?”
“You want to start a book club?” I raise my brow.
“We could discuss them, or we could not. But I think you might find a few of them interesting.”
“I’m guessing you’re not recommending a murder mystery.”
He chuckles before saying, “I’m more of a non-fiction guy.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe you’re addicted to self-improvement?”
He chuckles again and it’s kind of weird seeing him playful versus annoyed.
“I’ll take it over what I used to get up to.”
Declan’s driving the car with his left hand, and I stare at the tattoo on his left wrist. The way the roots of the tree wrap around it, I wonder if he was ever in a really dark place. It feels like a coverup.
“Can I ask you about the tree with the big roots tattoo?”
He brushes his hair before saying, “You’re very perceptive, you know.”
“So …” I pause, considering if now is an appropriate time for us to talk about my assumption. “You didn’t want to live at some point.”
Declan nods but doesn’t follow it up with anything.
“I’ve never felt that way,” I decide to share. “That’s why I don’t think I need therapy.”
He ruminates on that before saying, “You remind me of myself sometimes.”
“Why’s that?”
“So stubborn.”
“If I read these books, then what? You think I’ll decide I want to live like you?”
Was that flirty?
“I’m not suggesting this from a place of selfishness,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “I want you to read these books to better understand yourself and create the life you want to lead.”
“How culty are they?” I raise my brow.
“Why are you afraid of this stuff?”
“I just think I can do better things with my time.”
“Will you read one book?”
“My defiant tendencies are making me want to say no.” I stick my tongue out a little. “But I’ll read one book.” I smirk before saying, “At our book club meeting, I will come prepared to thoroughly dissect it and call out all of its bullshit.”
“As long as you read it.”
“What is this book you so badly want me to read?”
“If I tell you, you’re going to read the reviews and start a campaign about why you don’t need to read it.” He glances at me, breaking his gaze from the backroads. “I think it will be a better read if you go in blind.”
“Is that your kink?” I ask. I mean, he did have me go into yesterday blind.
“No flirting,” he firmly says, and we smile at each other. “I’ll ship it to you.”
“I can probably read it in a couple of weeks,” I state, getting the conversation back on track.
“Look at you being deadline driven.”
“I need deadlines; otherwise, it’s not going to happen.”
“Is this something you would like me to hold you accountable for?”
“It’s not needed. I’ll read the book within two weeks of getting it.”
“If you don’t, I’m going to call you out on it.”
“I’m really good at homework, so I’m not worried.”
“You might start reading and be like ‘fuck this.’ That’s why I’m thinking you need accountability.”
I look out the window, smirking. Book club with Declan. That was not on my bingo card for the year.
“The last thing I need is another thing for you to judge me about, so I’ll read the fucking book.”
“I’m never judging you, Dani,” Declan says. “I only want the best for you.”
“Sometimes you come across really fucking judgy.” I take a sip of my coffee, breaking our intense gaze. “Last night, I let Gideon know I will be at the funeral today. So, don’t be surprised if he shows up.”
“I would be surprised if he didn’t.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, wanting to know.
“If I was serious about someone, I would endlessly support them.”
He says it so easily, but the weight of his words hangs between us. For the first time, I avoid his gaze. I know how he feels, but I made my choice.
“Friends,” I say softly, mostly as a reminder to myself.
“Friends,” he echoes.
With a small nod, I take another sip of my coffee, curious if Gideon will be at the funeral.