“You wouldn’t.”
Mom only laughs. She wipes her palms across her apron before offering her hand to Declan. “It’s nice to meet you, Declan. I’ve heard so many good things about you.”
I point at Mom. “Don’t lie. It does scary things for his ego.”
Declan’s gaze swings between my mother and me before he grabs her hand. He gives it a firm shake. “The pleasure is all mine.”
It’s as if his grumbling in the car on our way here never happened.
Asshole.
“Please come and sit. Can I get you a drink?”
We both sit on my mom’s retro couch. The flowers are grossly outdated and the complete opposite of Declan’s posh home, but it reminds me of Friday movie nights and Nana falling asleep to her Korean dramas.
“Water is fine.”
Mom looks sheepish. “Of course! I’ll get you a glass. I apologize for my mother’s manners earlier. She doesn’t leave the house often.”
“Only because you stole my driver’s license,” Nana offers from the kitchen.
“Excuse them. They must be suffering from a carbon monoxide leak or something. They’re not usually like this.”
Nana pops her head out of the kitchen. “Why lie to him? We’re always like this.”
I give Declan a reassuring pat on his thigh. “Welcome to my family.”
I pull my hand away, but Declan sweeps in and holds onto it. The warmth of his palm makes my hand burn.
Mom wags a finger at me. “Not yet. He needs to pass the Landry test before he’s officially inducted.”
Declan raises a brow.
“I hope you like spicy food.” Nana makes an appearance, sipping on her wine.
The three of us break out into laughter at the puzzled expression on Declan’s face.
Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.
“Are you okay?” I refill Declan’s water cup for the third time in twenty minutes. A damp layer of sweat covers his forehead, and his usually slicked-back hair sticks out in all different directions. He even removed his suit jacket.
The man never so much as removes his jacket, let alone rolls up his sleeves. I’ve tried my hardest to keep my eyes focused on everything above his neck, but the amount of vein porn happening has my eyes glued to his forearm like a homing beacon.
It should be illegal to hide arms like those beneath suits.
Hell, it should be illegal to have arms like those in the first place. They’re distracting to the general population.
The scrape of Declan’s fork against his plate fills the silence. He glares at the piece of spicy chicken like he wishes he could go back in time and wring the animal’s neck himself.
“So, Declan, when did you realize you were in love with my daughter?”
Declan releases the knife in his hand, and it clatters to the floor.
“Aw. You’re making him nervous.” Nana sips her wine to hide her smile.
These two and their interrogation skills. I’m lucky Declan has understanding people down to a science because I never withstood my family’s inquisitions growing up.
“I think part of me always knew she would be the one. It just took a while for the rest of my brain to catch up.” His eyes don’t meet mine.
I bite down on my tongue to keep myself from laughing. The way he can lie his way through anything is something to be admired. Although it does come off a bit jarring, it seems to do the trick. Mom’s entire body melts from his statement.
“Why did you hold back for so long?” Nana asks, not looking as enamored as my mom.
“It wasn’t the right time.”
Elusive as always. It will help him keep up with his web of lies.
Mom smiles. “Well, I’m surprised she gave you a chance. I’ve been trying to set her up with one of the teachers at my school but she always declines—”
“Because I wasn’t interested, obviously.” I nod my head in Declan’s direction.
He doesn’t so much as look at me. We will need to practice more of these interactions later because his delivery could use some work.
“Iris leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever she goes.” Nana raises her glass toward me like I unlocked some achievement.
“No, I don’t.” I grind my teeth together.
Nana feeds off my embarrassment. “Did you know her last boyfriend proposed to her and she rejected him?”
“Nana!”
“What? I just find it interesting that you are finally willing to settle down.
What happened to swearing off men for the rest of your life?”
“Your ex proposed?” Declan’s eyes are lighter than usual.
I never admitted to him why I broke up with my ex a year ago. Declan probably thought we parted ways amicably, but the truth is Richard asked me to marry him.
I declined.
He cried.
I thought we were on the same page with everything. It was my fault for not noticing the signs soon enough. The key to his place. A spare toothbrush he left at my apartment. The way he seemed too enthusiastic to offer me an entire half of his dresser and closet—valuable space currency in Chicago.
After I broke his heart, I stopped dating. It wasn’t fair to lead men on if I wasn’t ready for commitment.
Yet you’re getting married to your boss, the small voice in my head whispers.
This is different. There are no preconceived notions or expectations. I’m simply doing this to help Declan achieve his goal, and once he does, I can move onto mine.
That’s what you’ve said for years.
“Poor man rented out a nice restaurant and everything for the occasion,”
Mom adds.
“Ring in a glass of champagne?” Declan asks.
Mom nods. “Oh, yes. Iris nearly choked on it.”
I shoot her a withering glare.
“Rose petals on the table?”
“Yes!” Nana shouts. “Red. Her favorite.”
I hate cut flowers because I find them a waste of a perfectly good plant.
“Sounds like everything you love.” Declan’s gaze captures mine. What an asshole. “I wonder what went wrong.” His eyes shift back to my mom and grandma.
I despise the way he knows about everything I hate.
“I guess it wasn’t good enough because Iris over here flat-out rejected him,” Nana replies.
“How unfortunate.” Declan’s dry tone says everything words can’t.
He enjoys every single second of this.
This is not how dinner was supposed to go. My family was supposed to make Declan feel uncomfortable, not me.
“Unfortunate indeed.” Nana raises her glass in Declan’s direction.
“Imagine if she had said yes.”
“With that kind of generic proposal, it’s a shocker that she didn’t.” He takes a sip of his water.
He doesn’t so much as flinch when I stomp on his loafer. I change warfare tactics by dragging my heel up his muscular calf, and I’m rewarded with his sharp inhale of breath. Heat pools in my belly, only to turn molten when Declan clutches onto my thigh.
Stop, his grip says.
Not until you drop the topic, my demure smile replies.
He gives my thigh one last squeeze before abandoning it altogether. The memory of his palm remains pressed into my skin, and I’m hit with a slight chill in his absence.