His face softens. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? I spent months on my presentation, perfecting it to the point of obsession, only to be rejected because you were too selfish to let me go? Who does that?”
“Someone who doesn’t understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance.”
“You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I’m stupid?”
He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.
“Intelligence has nothing to do with this.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re not the one who feels like a fool.”
“Really? Because based on your reaction today, I’m feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I’m falling in love with you.” He slips off the bed, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.
“Declan…” I reach out, but he takes a step back.
My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.
“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don’t expect that and I’m not sure if I ever will because I’m the furthest thing from lovable. I’m selfish, rude, and don’t know the first thing about being in a relationship with someone.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me.”
How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable? A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.
I slide off the bed and walk straight into his chest. His arms stay plastered against his sides, so I grab them and wrap them around my waist.
“Just because you make selfish choices doesn’t mean you’re a selfish person. At least not completely.” The man protected his brothers from their alcoholic father for years without any kind of payback. If that isn’t a selfless sacrifice, I don’t know what is.
“Your logic is half-baked at best.”
“So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable.”
His body tenses. “I’m stating facts.”
“I don’t know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it’s not true. Your brothers love you.”
“They’re obligated to.”
“No one is obligated to love someone else. Blood or not.”
He takes a deep breath. “You’re right.”
I smile up at him. “I could get used to hearing those words.”
He reaches up and cups my cheek. “Give me a chance and I’ll tell you them every single day.”
I sigh and look away. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me what’s stopping you.”
“You don’t do relationships.”
“Good thing I’m married then.”
I shake my head. “Our marriage isn’t even real.”
“A scrap of paper doesn’t define what we are. Feelings do, and mine are a hundred percent genuine.”
I avoid his penetrating gaze. “What if my feelings are telling me to run?”
“It’s cute you think you can outrun me, but I’ll give you a head start just to make things interesting.”
I stammer. “Do you always have an answer for everything?”
“Not for the one that matters most.” The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.
Longing.
I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.
You might get hurt.
I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I’m done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I’d rather try and fail than never try at all.
I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his. He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.
I pull away, only to clasp onto his stubbled chin. “This could be a disaster, but I’m willing to try.”
He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal.
The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected.
Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.
I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn’t enough. While Declan might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.
He is falling in love with me. No translation necessary.
35
IRIS
T he next weekend, I wake up to absolute chaos downstairs. I roll out of Declan’s bed, run to my room to get dressed in something other than one of his T-shirts, and freshen up in the restroom.
It doesn’t take a super sleuth to find out where all the noise is coming from. I make my way through the house, following the sound of Cal’s voice.
“Look who finally decided to join us!” Cal claps his hands as I walk into the living room.
“What is going on?” I check out the usual spread of donuts, mimosas, cigars, and other contraband materials.
Declan doesn’t bother answering me as he stares at the TV. With the way he analyzes the black screen, one would think it was actually turned on.
“Your husband here invited us over to watch an F1 race.”
“Us?”
“Rowan and Zahra are late, as per usual.” Cal grabs a donut and demonstrates what he thinks they’re doing.
“They’re coming here?”
“Surprise?” Cal looks over at the man in question.
“The batteries are dead.” He announces before leaving the room. If I expected any answers, I’m not about to get them from him.
“He really didn’t tell you?”
“No. It must have slipped his mind.” Or he wanted to surprise you.
My heart could possibly burst from the reality that Declan planned this all for me. I dropped the idea after he protested it, so knowing he went out of his way to plan it anyway…
It makes me want to kiss him.
Or fuck him.
Or kiss him and fuck him.
Cal holds up the sparkling apple cider bottle with a scrunched nose. “Do you have some exciting news to share with me or is this an insult to injury?”
I laugh. “I’m not pregnant.”
Declan reenters the room. “Not yet at least.”
My whole body feels about twenty degrees too hot. The way this man looks at me makes me wonder if it’s possible to get pregnant via intense staring and palpable longing. Inquiring minds want to know.
“Well, that’s my cue to go find something stronger to drink. There’s no way I’ll get through being the fifth wheel without wanting to chop my own dick off.”
Declan shoots Cal a withering look as he leaves the living room.
“So…” I start.
He uses the now working remote to turn on the TV and find the right channel.
“What’s the real reason you planned this all?”
His back muscles shift underneath his T-shirt. “Gezelligheid1.”
I pull out my phone and stare at the search bar with a pinched expression.
“G-E-Z-E-L-L-I-G-H-E-I-D.” He spells it out slowly without me even asking.
“Where did you learn this one?”
“During my month studying abroad in the Netherlands.”
I laugh when the page loads. “Cozy? That’s why you did this?”
He shakes his head. “It’s more than that. It’s about creating a place where people can relax and feel happy.”