Page 163 of One Night Only
“We?”
“Yes,” he says softly. “We.”
We. I like that. I like that a lot.
“Not that we have to move fast,” he continues. “We’ve got time. We can take it slow if that’s what you want.”
“I’d like that,” I say. “But maybe…maybe we can start slowing down tomorrow.”
And there’s that smile again. That smug, promising smile.
“Claire’s working tonight,” I explain.
“Is that so?”
I nod, a little breathless. “All night.”
He lets go of my dress to hold my hands, interlocking my fingers with his. We are far from alone. I am vaguely aware of other people occasionally wandering through the hallway but pay them as little attention as they pay us. We’re just two people getting close to each other in a bar. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.
Except I know different. Because I’m sure this has never happened before. This monumental, gut-busting happiness that I feel, how could this have happened before and for the world not to have changed so completely?
“Well,” Declan says. “I get off in an hour but technically I’m the boss so I can do what I want.”
Another laugh threatens to escape but I keep it inside, doing my best to look serious. “And what do you want to do?”
His head moves closer to mine and I love him so much I wonder how my skin isn’t glowing from the inside out.
“Declan?”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t answer my—”
He cuts off my words exactly as I hoped he would. He kisses me like he’s been waiting for me his whole life. He kisses me like he loves me and as somewhere in the bar a bell rings for last call, I kiss him right back.
Epilogue
Ten months later
“I said to the left!”
“I’mgoingto the left.”
“Oh.” I pause, blowing a strand of hair from my face. Soraya glares at me from the other end of the dresser, her face sweaty with effort. “My left.”
“I better not chip a nail,” she mutters as we shuffle back into the bedroom. “You’re paying for— Ow!” She almost loses her grip as her elbow hits the doorframe. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because you agreed!” The back of my legs hit the mattress. “Left. My left,” I correct as my arms start to shake. “Against the wall. Ready? One… two— Soraya!”
She lowers her end to the floor without waiting for my count, forcing me to quickly follow or risk dropping it.
“I need a drink,” she says, shaking out her fingers.
I stand back to look at the dresser, my hands on my hips. It’s one of the few things I’m keeping from my apartment. Deep drawers made of mango wood with heavy gold handles. But next to the white plastic bed frame?
“Don’t you think it would look better in the living room? More people would see it.”
“I will kill you,” she says softly but before she can try, I hear the front door open.
