Page 153 of One Night Only
It takes no time at all to get to O’Shea’s. It’s too early for it to be open. The front doors are locked, the blinds drawn, but the dull thud of a dumpster draws me to the alley where I find a man in a staff T-shirt trussing up trash bags.
“Through there,” he says when I ask him where Declan is and I thank him as he gives me a distracted nod to a side door behind him.
I have one foot inside when he calls out. “You Sarah?”
I look back in surprise and he grins. “Thought so,” he says. “Down the hall and to the left. If he’s not in the office he’ll be in the bar.”
Does everyone know about me? Did he send around a mass email? The twisted feeling in my stomach only increases as I step fully inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. I head down the hallway, squeezing past boxes of the day’s deliveries, past the kitchen and the cleaning closet. I find the office easy enough, a tiny windowless room that barely holds the desk and chair crammed inside. He’s not there.
I keep going, past the restrooms and through the swinging double doors to the main bar area. Declan stands in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips and his chin to his chest as he listens to one of the people gathered around him. Above them, a large dark stain on the ceiling drips down into several buckets.
I take a step back, intending to go wait in the office but a woman has already spotted me and she nudges Declan before I can escape.
He breaks into a wide smile, which only makes me feel worse.
I shake my head as he comes over to me, the group reforming without him. “I can wait.”
“I can’t. What are you doing here?” He kisses me on the lips before I can respond, a quick brush that feels achingly intimate. “Don’t tell me,” he says, grinning. “You wanted to see me in my element, right? The big man in charge?”
I should have waited for him to come back to the apartment. I understand now why he wanted to wait to tell me about Fiona. Why he wanted to know what to say. Because now, standing in front of him, I’ve got nothing.
His smile fades when I don’t answer and he reaches for my hand to squeeze it. “You found the body in the closet, didn’t you?”
Someone calls his name, but he waves them off, not taking his eyes off me. “What is it? What happened?”
“Fiona came by.”
His smile drops altogether. “She what?”
“After you left,” I say to his growing confusion. “I got up and she was… She knocked on the door and I let her in.”
“She came to the apartment?”
“She wanted to give you this.” I draw out the envelope. “For your divorce. And she wrote you a letter.”
“You spoke with her?”
“She wanted to give you this,” I repeat, my voice starting to wobble. “And—”
“Let’s talk about this in the office,” he interrupts, cupping my elbow.
“No.” I plant my feet, glancing at the people at the other side of the room. They’re far enough away that they can’t hear us, but I suddenly need their presence. The threat of an audience will help me through this.
Will help medothis.
I hold out the envelope, trying to get him to take it but he doesn’t move. A wariness creeps into his expression as though he knows exactly why I’m here. That makes one of us.
“What did she say to you?”
“Nothing,” I insist but he’s taking his phone from his pocket.
“She’s unbelievable.”
“Declan, stop it. She didn’t say anything bad. That’s not why she came.”
“You don’t know her like I do. She— Hey!” He looks up in shock as I pluck the phone from his hand. The others glance over at his raised voice and I flush in embarrassment.
“Sorry,” I say, handing it back to him. “But you’re not listening.”
