CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Friday found me brooding over my life’s choices.
It was late evening, and I sat at my desk working on the outline for my manuscript.
My students had gone home hours ago, and since I was doing everything in my power to avoid Seth, I figured I’d use the time to work on my book.
I hadn’t seen Seth the last few nights I went home, for which I was thankful.
I figured he was back to his regularly scheduled programming of parading around with random women.
Or perhaps he and Lacey had decided to spend some time away from the house.
Either way, it was pure bliss not having to fake a smile or force a conversation with people I had no interest in sharing the same airspace with.
Also, I was tired of Lacey giving me the side-eye in my own home.
I didn’t want her man.
My general philosophy on men and relationships was, if you can take him, you can have him.
Heck, I didn’t want him when I had him, and I certainly didn’t want him now.
Yet, the contempt she’d demonstrated toward me was so thick you could melt it and spread it like butter, and it would still find a way to choke you.
Lacey just didn’t understand.
Seth and I just didn’t fit, no matter how hard I had tried back then to make it work.
And I did try. I suppose I had blinders on when I thought he loved and wanted to be with only me.
But now that he’d chosen his freedom over our marriage, I saw, now, how much of myself I was sacrificing for him—for our relationship, and how little he gave in return.
And I was done with him. Absolutely, irrevocably, done.
I took a breath and touched the tiny, fidgeting version of the man I was becoming increasingly fond of.
Declan waved at me over our video call, and I waved back. Our microphones were muted because he was in a virtual meeting, and I wanted to focus on my writing.
My stomach tightened when he mouthed the words, ‘I miss you’. And I grinned, blowing him a kiss in return.
This would be so much easier if we were in the same room, but we were both busy, and for now, this was the most convenient.
We got the chance to talk to each other in between breaks, and I appreciated every second of it.
It was also through said video call that I discovered that Declan spoke fluent Japanese.
I was discovering interesting facts about him every day that made him even more endearing to me.
So far, we hadn’t gotten the chance to spend any more alone time together.
Declan’s work had gotten hectic. And apart from dropping his niece off in the mornings—his fingers lingering a little longer than they should each time he handed me her bags—that was all we saw of each other. And I was dying for his touch.
I missed the smell of him and how he always seemed to make whatever room he was in grow impossibly smaller the longer he lingered.
Deep down, I knew it was far too soon for me to become so attached, but emotions weren’t rational.
“Hey, darling?” Declan spoke, having unmuted his mic. “I’m just about done here. I’m coming to you.”
I glanced at the grinning Cheshire cat clock hanging above the entry door and winced when I saw that it was almost eleven o'clock. Then winced again because, well, that cat was totally creepy. I made a mental note to get rid of the unsettling accessory the minute I found a suitable replacement. The last thing I wanted was a bunch of five-year-olds throwing a tantrum at the same time because they couldn’t find their favorite clock.
For now, it lived to creep me out another day.
I tore my gaze away from its terrifyingly broad grin and focused on Declan.
“It’s almost eleven,” I informed him. “I don’t want you driving all the way here in heavy Friday night traffic.”
Declan’s smile quickly morphed into a frown, and he pouted, looking very much like her five-year-old niece.
I chuckled. “Come on, don’t be like that. You’re tired. I can see the dark circles around your eyes. You’ve been working late every day this week.”
“But I want to kiss you.” He pouted some more.
I chuckled. “I want to kiss you, too. But it’ll take you at least thirty minutes to get here.
And that’s if there’s no traffic. Whereas it’ll only take you ten minutes to get home from your office.
Plus…” I paused for effect, “I don’t want you driving while you’re tired.
So, for this once, can you please call your driver?
You pay the man quite a fortune to do absolutely nothing. ”
He grimaced. “That’s because I like driving myself. Most times I ride my motorcycle anyway, and it would look pretty ridiculous if I were a passenger on my own Harley.”
I laughed at the imagery he painted.
In one of our many nightly conversations, the topic of his car collection had come up, and I’d asked Declan if he truly drove all of them.
To which he disclosed that he, in fact, had a driver that he hired two years ago, but had only ever utilized his services once—to drop him off at the motorcycle dealership.
“The driver is mostly for when my parents are in town,” he’d explained.
“I love my parents, and I love chauffeuring them around. It’s one of my favorite things to do with them.
Mostly because my father complains the entire time that I have a heavy foot, while my mom cheers me on from the back seat.
But when I’m stuck in meetings or caught up working on a project, I want them to be able to move around without me.
My mother never learned how to drive, and my father isn’t too fond of it either, since he started using a cane for support.
He has bad osteoarthritis, and his joints seize up on him sometimes.
So he tries to avoid driving unless absolutely necessary. ”
That said, his driver was still his driver. And the poor man went to work every day, hoping and praying for the day when Declan would finally give in and let him do the job he was hired for.
“You’re right,” Declan said over our call. “I’m definitely in no condition to operate a motorcycle right now, so I’ll give Steven a call.”
“Please do,” I encouraged, and he smiled.
“I will, darling. Are you heading out soon?”
“I am, actually. I’ve done all I can do here. Unfortunately, my classroom is the hardest place to focus. Too many reminders of my five-year-olds. It’s kind of hard to write adult fiction while surrounded by a bunch of stuffed animals and dinosaur-themed coloring books.”
His face lit up, and I could practically see a light bulb flickering to life above his head. “Why don’t you come to my office in the evenings? It’s pretty much vacant by three. You’d have a lot more room to brood over your notes—”
“I don’t brood,” I complained.
He ignored my interjection and went on, “You can pick out any workspace you’d like to use.
Heck, you could even use the conference room if you wanted to.
Better yet—” his eyes grew impossibly brighter “—I could get you your own office, fitted with your name plate on the door and everything. I could put it right next to mine. That way, I’m only a few steps away when you’re overwhelmed and need a break. ”
“Whoa, slow down, tiger,” I said quickly. “No personalized office. Just… let me get my shit together first. I think I might actually prefer to rent the space from you. That way, I don’t feel like I’m intruding, or worse… leeching.”
There was a pause, and I glanced at the screen to see if we’d lost the connection, but no, Declan was still there. And he was seething now.
“Intruding?” he echoed, brows drawn together.
“Leeching? Seriously, Melodie? Is it really so hard to believe that I care about you and that I want you to have all of these things because I want to make your life a little easier? Can’t you see how badly I want to be with you?
I want you near me all the time. I want to talk to you, and touch you, and smell you.
I just want you.” He paused, frowning. “Are you… are you having second thoughts about us dating? It’s your husband, isn’t it? You’re going back to him?”
I jolted. “What? No! God, no. Declan, I would never go back to Seth. Not in a million years. Not even if he paid me. Hell, not even if he begged.”
“That’s his name? Seth?” Declan asked, disregarding my reassurance.
“What?” I was confused by his sudden shift in demeanor.
“In all our conversations, you’ve never mentioned his name. Not once. I was starting to think it was because you were protective of him and wanted that part of your life to remain private. Like… you know, a safety net to fall back on or something.”
I examined his words carefully.
Had I truly never mentioned Seth’s name to him before?
Personally, whenever I thought about Seth—which was thankfully few and far between—I simply lumped him in the back of my mind as a conceited, power-hungry ex. My mind and body already thought of him as an ex, so I never thought it prudent to mention his name at all.
“Yeah, no,” I answered with as much conviction as I could muster.
“No safety net there. And even if there was, I wasn’t falling for him or his lies ever again.
It truly is over between me and him, Declan.
I promise.” He looked at me, blinking slowly, but didn’t respond.
“Look, I have a doctor’s appointment next week.
I’ll talk to my doctor to see what can be done about my health insurance.
Maybe he knows something about my policy that I don’t.
If he doesn’t, maybe he can refer me to someone who does.
Perhaps they could put me on some sort of payment plan or something.
I know I’m rambling, but the point is, as soon as I figure out my health care situation, I’m filing for a divorce.
Then I won’t have to tolerate Seth any longer once that is sorted out. ”
Declan’s expression shifted, and he eyed me warily.
“What is it?” I asked, quickly picking up on his unease.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit I was beginning to pick up on. “I mean, I can always cover your medical expen—”
“Absolutely not!”
He frowned, looking genuinely confused. “Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? You know why.”
He sighed. “Mel, darling, I’m a billionaire. A few hundred bucks a month for your medical needs isn’t a hardship.”
I sighed too.
Declan wouldn’t understand. We lived in two different worlds—in different galaxies, even. Hell, if his tax bracket was anything to go by, he lived in a completely separate part of the Milky Way.
Declan was used to a life of luxury and having his money talked for him.
Which wasn’t a bad thing. It just wasn’t what I wanted.
I felt trapped with Seth because of my inability to take care of my own medical expenses.
The last thing I wanted was to become dependent on Declan in the same way.
I wanted my independence. I wanted to be able to walk away from a bad situation, knowing that I would be okay because my needs weren’t tied to that person.
I had to try. Even if I failed, I had to try. I owed myself that much.
Declan must have seen the determination on my face because he let out a defeated breath, then said, “Will you at least think about it? I won’t pretend I understand your reasons for not wanting my help, but I can assure you I want nothing in return but to see you happy and healthy.
The healthier you are, the more time I will have with you.
And that’s all I want. To spend a very, very long time with you.
So, please, think about it? You won’t be putting me in debt or in any kind of financial restraint.
I have enough money to live a hundred lifetimes, and I just wanna take care of the people I hold dear. ”
I smiled then. “You hold me dear, huh?”
“You have no idea, darling. You have quickly become incredibly important to me, and I just want to be there for you in any way I can, in any way you’ll let me.”
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll think about using your office in the evenings to work on my manuscript.”
A smile stretched across his lips. “That’s not what I asked you to think about, but I’ll take it. Baby steps.”
I grinned, nodding my agreement.
“Just promise me you’ll let me know if you ever need my help?” he continued.
“I will,” I assured him.
I might not have known Declan for a very long time, but he was a genuinely kind and caring person.
He was loyal to his family and compassionate and generous to his employees.
To the point where his sixty-year-old secretary, Mrs. Gills, made it her duty to keep him fed by bringing him home-cooked meals in the mornings for breakfast.
From the moment we’d met, he’d been nothing but kind and affectionate.
A flash of memory danced across my mind—of Frank from the bar where we’d met, singing Declan praises.
I remembered thinking it was sweet of the barkeep to try to endear him to me, but it wasn’t just lip service.
Declan was genuinely a kindhearted, good guy.
And something about that memory strengthened my conviction, soothing away its rough edges and reminding me that actions would always speak louder than words.
“I will,” I repeated, and meant it this time.
“Good.” He beamed. “Steven just texted me to let me know he’s outside, so I’m heading out now. Text me when you get home?”
“Sure.”
“Although,” he mused. “I could have Steven come pick you up and take you home—”
“No,” I interrupted quickly. “It’ll only take me fifteen minutes to get home.
Ten, if I really stepped on it. I live in the opposite direction of any traffic, so I’ll have clear roads going home.
Whereas, poor Steven would have to wade through all that downtown traffic just to get to me.
No, I’ll be fine. I’ll text you the minute I get home. ”
He didn’t seem particularly happy with that decision, but nodded nonetheless, and we ended our call.