15. Thea #2
"So, Declan." Lorraine set down her menu. Her eyes were bright. "How did you two meet?"
"She came to my office to ask for money." He smiled at me. "I took one look at her and decided to give her whatever she wanted."
My mother gushed. "Oh, that's romantic."
"He's exaggerating," I said.
He picked up his wine glass and took a sip without breaking eye contact with me. "I’m not. I spent the entire meeting trying to get her to look at me."
Lorraine laughed. She turned to Ray. "Did you hear that? He had to work for it." She squeezed Ray's arm. "Ray was the same way. Remember, baby? I played hard to get."
"You did," Ray confirmed. He was smiling.
"And how long have you two been together?" Lorraine asked.
"Not long enough," Declan answered.
I looked at him. He looked at me. The candlelight caught his eyes. He was saying things that sounded like lines and felt like truths, and I didn't know which one to believe.
"Well." Lorraine lifted her glass. "Ray just got promoted at work. Did I mention that? He's now the regional director of — "
"Mom, that's great."
"And he surprised me with a weekend in the Hamptons. He rented this cottage right on the beach, and in the morning, he brought me coffee in bed, and — "
"Thea tells me you've been together a few years," Declan said. He leaned forward. "What's your secret, Lorraine?"
She lit up. "Oh, it's all about love. Ray is so attentive. He remembers everything. Just last week he — "
"That's wonderful." Declan turned to me. His hand found mine on the table. He laced his fingers through mine. "I'm still learning, but I've got a good teacher."
My mother frowned slightly. She squeezed Ray's arm tighter.
"Ray bought me the most beautiful necklace for our anniversary.
Show them, baby." Ray pulled at the collar of his shirt, revealing a modest gold chain around his neck.
"Oh, not that one. The one he got me." Lorraine touched her throat.
A delicate pendant. "Isn't it gorgeous?"
"Beautiful," I said.
"Declan, do you believe in grand gestures? Ray is so romantic. He once — "
Declan leaned over and kissed me.
My eyes flew open. His hand on my jaw, his mouth warm against mine, right there in the middle of the restaurant. He kissed me as if I were something that mattered. When he pulled back, his thumb traced my jaw before his hand dropped. He turned back to the table like nothing happened.
"I'm sorry, Lorraine. You were saying?"
My mother's mouth was open. Ray was studying his menu with sudden intensity. I picked up my wine glass and took a long sip. My lips were tingling. My pulse was doing something inadvisable.
Lorraine recovered. "I was saying… Ray is very romantic."
"He sounds it." Declan picked up his fork. "Thea, try the soufflé. It's extraordinary."
Dinner lasted two hours. Lorraine talked about Ray. She talked about Ray's job, Ray's apartment, and Ray's mother, who apparently adored her. She asked Declan questions that were not protective but comparative. She wanted to know if my man was better than hers, and she wanted the answer to be no.
When dinner finally ended, I was relieved.
Lorraine hugged me at the curb. "He's wonderful, baby. I'm so happy for you." She pulled back and held my face. "Call me more, okay? I worry about you."
"I will, Mom."
Ray shook Declan's hand. "Good man." They got into their car and pulled away.
Declan and I stood on the sidewalk. Thomas was at the curb. Declan waved him off. Thomas nodded and pulled away.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"We're walking. It's not far."
We walked. My heels clicked on the sidewalk. His stride was long, and I matched it without asking him to slow down.
"So…your mother is interesting."
I groaned. "Don’t remind me. What about your parents?" I asked. "Are they like that?"
The grin started. I could see it in the streetlight — the muscles in his face pulling toward the redirect, the joke, the smooth pivot.
I gave him a look.
The grin stopped. He pushed his hair back with his whole hand and took a breath.
"My parents are…different." He put his hands in his pockets. "I'll tell you about it, but not tonight."
"Okay," I said.
The building appeared. The doorman held the glass door. We crossed the marble lobby. The elevator required the keycard. He swiped it. We stepped in.
The doors closed.
It was just us. The elevator hummed. The numbers began to climb. I watched them — seven, eight, nine — and I was aware of him beside me, the warmth, the proximity, and the cologne.
He turned to me.
His hand came up and found my chin. "I believe you owe me."
He kissed me. His mouth pressed against mine, warm and certain. My back found the elevator wall. His hand slid from my chin to the side of my neck, and I grabbed his lapel and pulled him closer.
The elevator climbed. His mouth moved against mine. My hand slid up his chest, over the collar of his shirt, into his hair. He made a sound against my lips and pressed closer. I could feel his heartbeat through his shirt — fast and matching mine.
The doors opened. We separated. Barely. His forehead was against mine, both of us breathing hard.
The penthouse was dim. We stepped out. Dominique was in the hallway, coming from the nursery. She saw us. We were standing a foot apart, his hand still on my neck, my hand still on his lapel.
She nodded. "Good evening, Mr. Hale. Ms. Calloway. Lena's been asleep since nine." She walked past us and disappeared into the guest wing.
The hallway was empty. We looked at each other. He took my hand. His fingers laced through mine. He walked. I followed. Down the hallway, past the nursery where Lena slept, past my room, to the last door on the left. His room.
He opened it. We stepped inside. He closed the door.
The room was dark. He walked to the dresser, took off his watch, and set it on the wood with a soft click. Then he turned to me.
"Take off your dress."
I held his gaze. I reached behind me, found the zipper, and pulled it down. The dress fell. It pooled around my feet. I was standing in his bedroom in my underwear. The air was cool on my skin. I didn't cross my arms. I didn't cover myself. I stood there and let him look at me.
He came to me. His hands found my waist. My back found the wall. His mouth found my neck — the spot below my ear, the place where my pulse was racing. I arched into him. My hands went into his hair.
Before I knew it, his mouth was on my skin, and my hands were pulling his shirt over his head, and both of us were finally, completely, terrifyingly honest.