by E. K. Blair
I take his face in my hands and look up at him with a huge smile. “I am so proud of you.”
“You are?” he flirts, hoisting me onto the counter.
“Yes. And you should be more excited.”
“I am excited.” His voice is low and even, teasing me.
“I’m serious. This is amazing.”
“You’re amazing.”
He takes my hands from his face, pins them down on the countertop beneath his, and moves in to kiss my neck. The whiskers of his freshly trimmed stubble tickle me, and I tilt my head to close my neck off to him. Declan disapproves with a groan and forces my neck open with his head. He continues to kiss and nip, and every now and then sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin. I drop my head back with a pleasurable moan and widen my legs to invite him in closer, but before he presses against me, his phone rings.
“Ignore it,” I pant, needing more of him.
“I can’t, Davina is here.”
He steps away from me and takes the call. Sliding off the counter, I clench my thighs together to help relieve the pulsing ache of arousal that’s built up inside of me thanks to Declan.
“You’re a tease,” I say with a nudge to his ribs when I walk past him. “I’m going to get you back for that.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. It’s a guarantee.”
Soon there’s a knock on the door, and when Declan opens it to let her in, the raven-haired “friend” greets him with a much too affectionate hug. They exchange pleasantries before Declan holds his hand out to me, saying to Davina, “You remember Elizabeth?”
“It’s so good to see you again.” Her smile is too wide as she hands me a bottle of wine. “I figured you could use this since you’re living with the most uptight man I know.”
“That’s nice,” Declan says in mock umbrage as he heads back into the kitchen, leaving me alone with her in the living room.
“Thank you,” I tell her, shoving my insecurities away for fictitious assurance. “It’s extremely thoughtful.”
I used to wine and dine the upper crust of Chicago for the satisfaction of Bennett, so Davina should be as easy as selling age-defying pigeon shit facials to haut monde housewives.
“Please, have a seat. Should I pour you a glass?” I ask, holding up the bottle.
“I never turn down wine.”
She’s much too perky and much too happy, or maybe it’s just me being much too judgy. Either way, I grit my teeth as I walk to the kitchen and open the bottle of Sangiovese.
“Declan,” she says as she walks over and takes a seat at the island bar. “How long do we have to wait for your new property?”
“Years. We’re building from the ground up,” he tells her. “I was in meetings all day today going over budgets and schedules. We haven’t even started on the design yet.”
“How long do you plan on staying in London?”
“Until completion. Same as the Chicago property. So, three, maybe four years.”
I hand her the glass of wine and she holds it up. “Well, cheers to new neighbors,” and then she takes a sip. “So, Elizabeth, I know you can’t be from around here with that accent of yours.”
“No, I’m from the States. Illinois,” I tell her.
“Where Declan was? Chicago?”
“Yes.”
“So indulge me. Tell me how you two met.”
As soon as the question is out of her mouth, I feel the tingling in my palms, but I don’t stress for more than a second when Declan begins to answer.
“She was at the grand opening of Lotus,” he says, plating the food. “I spotted her immediately in this long navy dress. It didn’t take me long to introduce myself, and lucky for me, she needed a place to throw an event, and I offered her the space at the hotel.” He picks up two of the plates, adding, “The rest is history.”
I pick up the third plate and follow him into the dining room. We all sit to eat, and I listen while the two of them share a few funny stories from their childhood with me. I smile and laugh at all the right places in conversation as I tame the covetousness I feel that she’s had more time and shares more memories with Declan than I do. She has a deep-rooted past with him, knows his annoying habits I haven’t caught on to yet, and can practically finish his sentences for him.
“Elizabeth,” she addresses, exchanging her attention from Declan to me. “What is it that you do?”
I swallow the sip of wine I just took, then clarify, “That I do?”
“Do you work?”
“Oh, um, no. Not at the moment.” Not ever, unless helping my brother weigh out and bag the drugs he and Matt used to sell on the streets counts as a job. I feel like such a fraud sitting here with her. As if this is my standard of living.
“That’s always nice. Have you been to London before?”
“No. This is the first time I’ve been out of the States, believe it or not.”
“I have a lot to show you then,” she says excitedly. “Have you done any exploring yet?”
“Not if you consider walking across the street to Harrods,” I joke.
“Declan,” she scolds. “Why are you keeping this woman locked up? Take her out!”
“Damn! Why are you jumping my case?” he says, charading indignation the way Pike and I often would with each other—the way most brothers and sisters probably do. “We’ve been busy trying to settle in.”
Turning back to me she continues, “Well, you must let me show you around one day next week. I have a few client meetings, but other than that, I’m free.”
“Client meetings?”
“Oh, excuse my bad manners. I’m an interior decorator. I’m working on three homes at the moment. Two I’m finishing so my workload will be lightening up soon.”
“That sounds like a fun job.”
“Anything that involves shopping on another person’s dime is fun,” she laughs.
When we finish dinner, I stand and collect the plates, taking them to the kitchen so she and Declan can continue to talk. When I put the kettle on the stove to boil water for tea and coffee, I see Davina’s phone on the bar where she was sitting earlier light up and vibrate with an incoming call. While I wait for the water to heat, I pick up her phone and take it over to her.
“I think someone just tried calling you,” I say when I hand it to her.
“Oh, thank you.” She takes the phone and looks to see who called, mumbling, “Bawbags.”
“What’s wrong?” Declan asks as I sit back down.
“It’s William.”
“I didn’t think you two spoke anymore.”
“We don’t, but apparently I have a piece of jewelry that belonged to his mother that he’s demanding. I’ve told him there’s none in the house that belongs to him and to check his safe deposit box, but he claims it isn’t in there. He’s keeps hounding me about it.”
“Tell him to let the attorneys handle it.”
“I did, but the cheap bastard refuses,” she tells Declan before turning to me to clarify, “Ex-husband.”
“Oh.”
“We divorced for religious reasons. He thought he was God, and I didn’t.”
Out of all her jokes she’s made, this is the first where I can’t help my laughter.
“Have you been married before?” she asks, and my laughter wanes.
I bite my lip and turn to Declan when I nearly blurt out yes without thinking. She’s caught me off guard, and when Declan sees, he speaks for me.
“No. She’s never been married.”
Davina looks between Declan and me with a curious expression upon her face, most likely wondering why her question choked me up and why Declan would butt in to answer for me. She knows something is off, and I thank God for the kettle on the stove as it begins to whistle loudly.
“Excuse me,” I say, getting up and rushing off to the kitchen.
I take in a deep breath, sick and tired of all the questions. I’ve lived so many years pretending to be Nina that she feels
like a part of me, and when asked questions, I forget that I’m just Elizabeth and I can’t be crossing the two lives.
“Are you okay?” Declan asks in a quiet voice when he joins me in the kitchen.
“She knows we’re lying. Did you see the look on her face?”
“She doesn’t. It’s fine,” he says. “Stop worrying.”
“Here.” I hand him the French press. “Take this to the table please.”
He does, and I follow with my tea. The evening winds down as we finish our drinks, and when Davina announces she must be going, I pacify her with a few empty pleasantries before thanking her for coming over, and she reminds me to give her a call.
“We’ll go shopping or meet up for a nice lunch,” she says, and I respond by lying, “That sounds really nice.”
“You can get my number from Declan.”
We say our goodbyes, and when she’s out the door, Declan says, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No,” I fib. “She’s very lovely.”
He eyes me suspiciously.
“What?” I question.
“You’re not still jealous, are you?”
“No, I’m not still jealous,” I fib again. “You’re awfully full of yourself.”
“I like it when you’re jealous.” He reaches for me, but I dodge his touch. “Get your ass back here.”
“You wish, McKinnon. You want to touch me?”
“Always.”
“Payback’s a bitch,” I taunt. “You shouldn’t have teased me so much earlier.”
“You’re sadly mistaken if you think you call the shots around here.”
He moves towards me again, but with each step forward, I take one step back, keeping the distance between us. He wears a smile almost as big as mine as I try to contain my laughter. I love this side of us together, a side we’ve yet to explore with one another. It’s young and free-spirited and a rare look inside Declan’s boyish charm. There’s a joyful glint in his eyes that makes me want to run to him.
But where’s the fun in that?
Let him catch me!
“I HAVE THE plane scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon,” Declan tells me when he walks into the living room. “What are you doing?”
I lift my pencil from the paper and look at the jumbled letters, realizing how crazy it must look to him. “I have to keep trying.”
“I’m not accusing, darling. I’m just curious what all those letters mean.”
“I don’t know,” I admit with a shrug of my shoulders. “I guess I wanted to see if there was something to the names. That maybe if I took the letters and rearranged them I would be . . .” I let my words fade when I’m aware of how nutty I sound. “I just . . . I can’t give up.”
“I would never ask you to give up, but—”
“Let me exhaust this avenue before you tell me I’m wasting my time.”
“Okay.” Stepping back from the topic he continues, “So tomorrow afternoon . . .”
“I’ll be ready. I don’t have much to pack, so it shouldn’t take me long.”
“I was thinking maybe you could get out of here for a while. Go shopping. You have hardly any clothes.”
“You mean spend your money?”
“Our money,” he disputes. “But if you feel awkward spending it, let Davina spend it. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“What does that mean?”
“She once stole my piggy bank to buy herself a rickety pair of roller skates.”
I laugh at his farcical outrage. “So, she robbed you?”
“Pretty much, that unforgiveable twit. I’d been saving that money for a long time.”
My smile dissolves as envy creeps in.
“What’s wrong?”
I take a moment, not sure of what to say when I finally speak. “You really had a happy childhood, didn’t you?”
His face levels out in emotion when he sees the harbored sadness in my eyes. He doesn’t answer me right away until I push him to.
“Yes. I was a happy kid.”
There’s resentment that festers within me, but not for Declan. It’s for all the people who betrayed me and my dad and Pike. I don’t hate Declan because he had a good life, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous, because I am—because it isn’t fair.
“You have all these wonderful stories to share with me, and I have none to share with you.”
“Come on, you must have some good memories with your brother.”
“Honestly,” I start and then pause to grip tightly to the sting of tears that threaten, “it hurts too much to think about.”
“It’s only been a few months since you lost him. Give it time.”
I think of the words he chose: lost him. As if Pike were a set of keys I misplaced. My gut sinks when I think of the ugly reality.
I didn’t lose him.
I killed him.
I doubt that any amount of time will fade away the agony that torments me because of what I did.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “This is why you should get out of the house. You need a break from everything. Fresh air and a little distraction will do you well.”
“Are you going to let me go by myself?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.” I let out a faint laugh. “I’ll call Lachlan.”
“Why don’t you call Davina?”
I set my pencil and notepad down on the coffee table and exhale heavily. “Can I just call Lachlan?”
“Why are you so afraid to make friends?”
“First off, I’m not afraid. And second, why do I need friends when I have you? I’m not one of those girls who has this incessant need to gossip and chit chat about things I find no importance in,” I explain with a shard of annoyance. “Women are vicious and catty, everyone knows that.”
“If that were true, what does that say about you?”
I squint my eyes at him, but he just smirks.
“I’m vicious, but I’m not catty.”
He shakes his head at me. “Do me a favor. Humor me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because she’s practically the only family I have,” he tells me. “She’s a good person. A tad on the bubbly side, but she means well and is trustworthy. I also think it would be good for you to start venturing out—make a friend.”
“I’ve never had friends.”
“What about when you were a child and in school?”
“All the girls were too busy making fun of me. I was teased every day.” I shrug my shoulders as I remember the shame and embarrassment. “I wouldn’t even know how to be a friend to someone.”
He takes my hands in his, saying, “Just be yourself.”
“Well, there’s an idea.” My voice edges on soreness. “Too bad I don’t have a clue who I am.”
“You may not see it, but I can. I see parts of you that are brand new and nothing like the girl I met in Chicago. Your laughter, the youthful playfulness that comes out every once in a while, those belong to you—Elizabeth.” He’s sure of his words. “Nina would have never run around this apartment, laughing and making me chase her the way you did the other night. As more time passes, more of who you are will unfold. But if you need to know who you are because you can’t find it within you, then come to me and I’ll tell you.”
I nod, unable to speak around thick emotion. Staring into his eyes, I’m bewildered by the love he has for me. His patience and reassurance have started to form a solid ground for me. I trust him, but I still suppress so many insecurities, some of which I’ve yet to share with him. His intentions are good though; he only wants me to thrive and be happy. He’d never intentionally put me in a harmful or unsafe situation.
“So will you give her a call?”
For him, I’ll try it his way.
He gives me her number, and when I call, she’s thrilled at the mention of shopping and agrees to swing by to pick me up.
After I hang up with Davina, I walk into the office where Declan is. �
�I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Did you get ahold of her?”
“Yes. She’s on her way to pick me up.”
“What do you want to talk about?” he asks as he gets up from his desk and motions me over to join him on the leather couch that sits in the corner of the room next to the large windows.
“The penthouse in Chicago. I want to sell it,” I tell him. “I’ll never live there again. I wish I could erase all of its memories, but I can’t, so let’s just get rid of it.”
“I’ll take care it. All of it,” he assures without any question.
“I need to go back though. There are a few things I need that were gifts from Pike.”
“Okay. I’ll put a call into Sotheby’s to see what needs to be done to get it on the market,” he says, taking all the pressure of having to deal with this off my back. “We can go straight there when we land to get it over with so it won’t be weighing on you.”
“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to come with me.”
“That place is filled with awful memories for me as well. Memories I too wish I could erase, but I’m not having you go there alone to face it all by yourself.”
I sling my arms around him, so thankful because he’s right—I know how painful it’s going to be to walk through those doors again. It’s the tainted sanctuary of ghosts from the past few years. It’s Bennett, it’s purple roses, it’s all the disgusting moments I gave that piece of shit my body, it’s where I saw the monster in my brother’s eyes for the first time, it’s where my baby died, and it’s where Declan’s spirit forever changed when he murdered Bennett in cold-blooded rage. It’s the coffin that holds so many skeletons. I’d burn it to ashes if I could.
“It’s one chapter of our past we can close. Just look at it that way.” Once again, he is doing what he can to eliminate the pain we both feel about that place, the place he dreaded to send me back to after our time together, thinking Bennett was violently beating me.
So many lies.
So much bloodshed.
But without it, I never would have found Declan. So I’ll bear its torture that singes my heart.
The day is just warm enough to go without a coat. I tilt my head back, looking up to the brilliant blue sky. The sun’s rays heat my face while I breathe the crisp air deep into my lungs, and I swear I feel its particles cleansing me.
