Page 131 of One Night Only
He looks tired. There are dark smudges under his eyes and a slight blush of razor burn on his cheek. His jeans are creased and so is his T-shirt and he smells like deodorant, as if he just put it on. As if he didn’t even go home and shower before coming to see me. That theory is further backed up by the black leather travel bag in his hands, which he dumps casually inside the door as if he’s done this a million times. The realization that he came straight here, as if he couldn’t wait to see me either, only makes me more confused.
I want to kiss him. I want to hold him and make him hold me.
But I can’t.
Not yet.
“I got you airport gin,” he says by way of greeting. He holds up the bottle. “It was on sale. Also…” He pulls out a large packet of candy from the bag. “Airport pretzels. You’re welcome.”
I close the door behind him. “How was your flight?”
“Delayed but I’ve had worse. Glad to be back.”
I see the exact moment he realizes something’s wrong. Or maybe he senses the weird energy in the room. I can certainly feel it. A strained tension that only heightens the odd feeling inside of me.
He puts the gin and pretzels down on the counter, not even trying to pretend. “What’s up?”
Nothing. Everything.
“Sarah?”
“I, um, lost my job.”
His expression is an instant mask of concern and his arms reach out as if to draw me into a hug. “What happened?”
“It was coming,” I say, stepping back. He takes the hint and doesn’t try and come any closer. “I should have started looking as soon as I didn’t get the promotion. Harvey has been acting standoffish ever since and…” I trail off at the look on his face.
“I’m pulling out. I’ll ditch the firm.”
“No,” I say quickly. “You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do,” he says. He looks furious. “This is ridiculous. They can’t do that.”
“They can and they have. Please don’t pull your business. There’s no point anyway, we’re too far along. You’ll just have to start all over again.”
“I’m not having that guy—”
“Someone else is going to take over the plans,” I interrupt. I’m not going to tell him about my conversation with Matthias. Then he’ll definitely leave.
Declan looks like he’s going to say something more, but he stops himself. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make this about me.”
“I’m dealing with it. It sucks but I’m dealing with it. I’ve got enough savings to last for a few weeks, so I’ve got time to find something.”
“Of course, you will.”
I nod, not looking at him.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks. “Or if you don’t feel like talking, we could catch a movie or—”
“I want to talk,” I interrupt. “We need to talk. I want to ask you about something.”
He waits but I can’t seem to get the words out.
“Sure,” he says finally. He sits on the sofa, leaving space beside him, but I aim for the armchair against the wall. He’s surprised but he masks it quickly, turning to face me.
“I had lunch with Paul and Annie the other day,” I start, ripping off the Band-Aid. “Paul told me about Fiona.”
Declan goes completely still, his eyes never leaving my face. The silence stretches on for so long I start to worry if he even heard me. Whatever he expected me to say, it obviously wasn’t this.
