Page 160 of One Night Only
He’s probably just mad.
I wash my hands slowly, giving myself time to calm down. Declan’s not waiting for me when I emerge. He’s not waiting for me at the bar either. He’s not even behind the bar. I spend a good few seconds searching to make sure. But he’s gone.
My stomach rolls and I slink back to the dark hallway, wanting to be near a toilet just in case.
I am not forgiven. And I drank a candy store for nothing.
There’s a burning sensation in my throat that won’t go away no matter how much I swallow. It was hard enough to come here like this. To admit I was wrong.
Well, screw him if he thinks he can get rid of me that easily. I may be an idiot but—
“Leaving so soon?”
I twirl as Declan steps out from his office down the hall.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, hand flying to my chest.
“A while.”
“And you couldn’t have said something?”
“You seemed busy. You were muttering to yourself.”
“I was steeling myself to come find you.”
“Because you want to apologize?”
“No. I mean, yes. But not like this.” I grimace, holding my hand against my stomach. “I don’t feel so good.”
Declan rolls his eyes and tries to move past me, but I step in front of him, blocking his path. Behind him, the kitchen door flies open and a waitress comes out, carrying a plate of onion rings. “Last one,” she says to Declan, barely glancing at me as she hurries past.
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” I ask after she disappears into the bar.
“No.”
I fight down my frustration. “No?” I look pointedly toward his office. “There’s nowhere in this bar we can talk?”
“I don’t want to talk with you. What did you think was going to happen?”
“Honestly? I thought I’d wear my sexy dress and sit at the bar and order a whiskey and you’d laugh and instantly forgive me.”
He shakes his head in one slow movement.
“Right,” I mutter. “So, tell me what to do. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“You know, when I heard you were coming tonight, I thought you might try something but I thought you’d have a grander plan than this.”
“You knew I was coming?”
He gives me a look. “Paul rang me asking very pointedly was I working and if so, where. He sounded like he was reading from a script. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
“I know you’re probably still mad at me,” I say, miserable. “And that’s fine, that is totally understandable, but I thought you might like to know something, so when you’re no longer mad at me we can talk about it.”
“Know what?”
“That I’m in love with you.” The declaration comes out in a rush, each word tripping over the other.
His expression doesn’t change. “You’re in love with me?”
