CHAPTER EIGHT
An hour later, I was all dressed up and ready to get this date started.
I glanced at my reflection in the standing mirror, and my jaw damn near hit the floor.
I looked good.
I’d let my hair down, and the long, curly strands flowed effortlessly over my shoulder and down my back, like a gently cascading waterfall.
I wore a soft pink makeup look that made me look like I was blushing from ear to ear.
And the dress I’d chosen was an off-the-shoulder full-length dress in sage green, with a slit that ran all the way up to my hip.
It hugged my curves beautifully, and I loved it.
I paired the outfit with a blend of gold and rose gold jewelry, then tied it all together with four-inch rose gold heels that had delicate, thin straps.
Comfortable they were not, but they showed off my freshly painted toenails and wrapped stylishly around my lower legs, offering some support for my ankles.
I gave myself a little twirl in the mirror and smiled.
The color of my dress matched Declan’s eyes. And while I hoped he appreciated the effort I’d put into my attire, I was more intrigued by the way I felt as I stared at my reflection. Happy, or at least, happier than I’d been in months. Years, even.
I tried to remember the last time I’d gotten dressed up like this.
Was it college or before? Perhaps it was at my senior prom. Either way, it was before Seth, and a part of me wanted to scream at the shell of a human being I’d allowed myself to be turned into.
My phone chimed with a text message, breaking me out of my stupor.
Declan: 30 minutes until I see you again, darling.
My face warmed, and I caught my reflection grinning like a loon.
I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to him addressing me as ‘darling’. But each time he used the word, it felt like a caress against my skin, and the touch-starved animal inside me ached for more of it.
Smiling, I texted him back.
Melodie: Can’t wait. Heading out in a minute.
Grabbing my rose gold clutch that would hold my phone, wallet, and keys for the night, I made my way to the front door.
Declan had wanted to pick me up for our date, but considering how oddly Seth had reacted earlier, I thought it best I met him at the restaurant instead.
I didn’t know what was going on in Seth’s head.
I didn’t know if he would try to make a scene, maybe try to scare Declan off.
As per the terms of our open marriage, Seth had no reason for wanting to stop this date, but I could never tell with him.
Safe to say, I didn’t know him anymore, and I genuinely didn’t know how he would react. So it was better to be safe than sorry.
I didn’t have to worry, though. As I made my way down the hall, the distinct sounds of lovemaking echoed softly from upstairs, along with the slow, sensual beat of R red wine for me and brandy for him.
“So,” I said as nonchalantly as I could, “a twin, huh?”
Declan let out a bark of laughter. “If that’s your way of telling me to get on with it, mo chroí, you can just say so.”
My face warmed. “I mean, you did promise to explain to me why you ran out on me that night at the bar.”
In other words, I needed answers, and I needed them now.
And while I was fully aware that Declan didn’t owe me—a mere stranger—any explanation, I was still going to insist on one.
I entered into a relationship with Seth with blinders on.
I never asked enough questions, and I never demanded anything of him.
I simply expected him to be a decent human being.
And while I was keenly aware that Declan wasn’t Seth, he was still a man.
Therefore, questions needed to be asked.
And if he truly wanted any kind of relationship with me, he would have no problems answering my questions.
Jaded, I know. But what was I supposed to do?
The only way to know something was to ask.
And I was going to ask as many questions as I wanted until my overthinking, anxiety-driven brain was satisfied.
I deserved someone who would take the time to soothe my demons.
Because I would never again settle for anything less.
Also, I made a mental note to ask him what ‘mo chroí’ meant. I knew it was something in his native language, but the words sounded shamelessly erotic on his tongue. Or maybe that was just me.
“Aw, yes,” Declan said, setting his glass down. “That I did.”
He grabbed his leather jacket that was slung over the back of his chair and rummaged around in one of its pockets, pulling out his phone. He tapped on the device a few times, then held it out for me to see.
On the screen, Declan had his arm around a tall, gorgeous redheaded woman, who looked exactly like him. Minus the beard, of course.
They were dressed in matching Christmas sweaters, standing in front of a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, looking exasperated, as though it was a travesty for them to share the same air, let alone pose for a picture.