I cross my arms. “Where did you learn all these words anyway? There’s no way you know all these languages.”
He turns his head back toward the road. “It was a game my mom and I played together when I was a little kid.”
My throat gets scratchy at the thought. “How?”
“I was always bad at expressing my feelings, way before my mom ever got sick.”
“You? No. I refuse to believe that,” I say with absolute seriousness.
His glare makes me laugh.
“She taught me how some people need a hundred words to express a single thought, while some people only need one word to share a hundred thoughts.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
His eyes become distant. “It became our secret code. If I was feeling a certain way, she would ask me for my word.”
My bottom lip quivers. “What made you start using them again?”
He turns and looks at me. “Not what but who. We both struggle with words in our own ways. Me with expressing them, and you with reading them.” His explanation makes each word he shares feel even more meaningful.
The burning sensation in my chest intensifies, betraying just how much my heart wants to throw caution to the wind. It scares me more than I care to admit, so I stick to a safer question. “What made you choose non-translatable ones?”
“They started out in English but eventually once my brothers started picking up on it and started copying me, I switched gears. There was no way they could say kyoikumama, let alone spell it.”
“Always against sharing, ever since a young kid, huh?”
“You’re an only child. You can’t even begin to understand what it is like to grow up with siblings always stealing your stuff and copying you.”
“I wish! That seems a whole lot better than spending your entire life alone.”
“The silence must have been nice.”
I laugh. “It got old fast. If everything goes my way, I plan on having enough kids to fill a whole house so they never have to grow up feeling the way I did.”
He shoves the gear stick a bit harder than necessary. “Kids?”
“A whole minivan if I’m lucky.”
“I didn’t know you wanted a big family.” A vein in his neck throbs.
“You never asked, and I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Why not?”
“Because we only agreed to one child.”
“What if that weren’t the case?”
I feel shocked by his question. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
He pauses, clearly thinking of a response before shaking his head.
“Nothing.”
Nothing? I want answers, but my fear of his response stops me from asking any questions. And with the way he shuts down, I know that I’m not going to get them today anyway.
Maybe it’s for the best.
1 ? Noun, Norwegian: That overwhelming gut-rush euphoria exclusive to the beginnings of falling in love.
31
IRIS
T here is no way Declan’s target happened to go to the Chicago Botanic Garden on a Saturday. After our whole conversation in the car, I know he planned this for me. Not that he would ever admit it. So rather than call him out on it, I go along with the whole charade. I’m far too excited about visiting the garden to ruin it by calling Declan out on his lie.
The garden is my favorite place in the entire world—sorry, Dreamland. I have so many fond memories here, dating all the way back to my childhood.
My mom, Nana, and I would come here together after my Saturday tutoring sessions. Mom and I would visit all the gardens while Nana would huff and puff about her busted knee, only to be easily swayed by the pretty flowers and champagne popsicles.
I laugh as Declan grabs a map from an information stand. He doesn’t ask for my help, and I don’t bother offering it. While I know every corner of this place, watching him assess the map like we are exploring uncharted territory is far too entertaining to pass up.
He locates our current position on the map. “Is there a certain strategy to all this?”
“Strategy? It’s a garden, not a chessboard.” I laugh.
“Fair point. Then is there something in particular you want to see first?”
“Shouldn’t we go wherever the person you came to see is?” I push my lips together to prevent giving myself away.
“I don’t know where they are.” He says the lie with such ease, it unsettles me enough to push for more.
“You know, if I knew what they looked like, it would make this process a little easier. How else am I supposed to know when we need to pretend?”
Declan shuts the map, pockets it, and grabs my hand. “We don’t.”
Sparks shoot up my arm from the contact. “So, what? We just act like a couple the entire time?”
“Exactly.”
I fake groan. “But this place is huge. It could take hours before we find them.”
“Maybe even more.” He doesn’t release my hand as he leads us toward the start of a trail.
I give him another opportunity to confess. “They must be pretty important if you’re going out of your way to subject yourself to walking around a garden for hours while holding my hand.”
“You have no idea.”
I turn my head away so he doesn’t catch me smiling at his lie.
Declan wraps his arm around my waist as if we touch like this all the time.
What happened to the man who struggled with touching me only two months ago? Because it seems like that version of Declan is long gone, with him using today’s fake date as an excuse to touch me however he wants.
I’m so lost in obsessing over his embrace that I almost miss my favorite part of this whole place.
“Ahh! Stop!” I pull back on Declan’s arm.
Declan halts, and I stumble from the momentum.
“What happened?” He checks the perimeter.
“You’re walking so fast that we almost missed my favorite part.”
He looks around, missing the greenhouse during his scan of the bushes behind us.
I point with my free hand at the glass structure.
“You want to go in there?”
“Yes! It’s the best place!”
“A greenhouse?”
I smile. “Is there something wrong with that?”
“I’m just surprised you prefer that over the outdoors.”
“I’ll show you why.” I all but drag him through the doors. Instantly, we are hit with a gust of humid air. Fans spray a warm mist across all the plants, and we are caught in the crossfire.
A crease appears in between his eyebrows. “Why is it so muggy?”
“Because they need to recreate the tropical climate.”
“What for?”
It excites me to know more about a topic than Declan, and I relish in the fact that he doesn’t know everything after all. “Plants like these would never normally survive the seasons here. Without a greenhouse, they would most likely die, especially in Chicago.”
He follows me as I walk through the rows of short palm trees.
“Is that the reason you keep all your plants indoors?”
“Do I need a better reason besides to annoy you with them?”
His glare makes me laugh to myself.
“Living in an apartment had many perks, but a greenhouse isn’t one of them. Not enough space.” I lead him toward the small pond at the back of the greenhouse. “You know how you have different words to express your feelings?”