I stay put, standing by the flowers, and question, “In which case?”
“In all cases. Now stop standing there and sit with me.”
“Is this you taking?”
With a smile that he plays so well, he says, “Are you up for grabs?”
“No,” I state curtly. “And these games you tend to enjoy playing with me are getting old, and frankly, I don’t enjoy being toyed with as if I’m here solely for your entertainment. So again, cut the shit, Declan.” I grab my coat and start walking towards the door, hoping he makes the move I’m goading him into.
His hand grips the top of mine as soon as it hits the door handle, and I freeze, keeping my head down.
“Don’t go,” he says, and I remain silent as he continues to speak. “You’re not a toy, Nina, and I apologize if I made you feel that way.”
“So what is this?”
“This is me, simply wanting to get to know you,” he says, and when I look at him, he adds, “You say you don’t have friends, right?”
Turning my head away from him to avoid eye contact, he says, “Everyone deserves a friend, Nina. Even you.”
“And you think you’re gonna fill that void?” I ask, looking back at him. “What makes you think I need that?”
“Tell me then, who do you talk to about the things you can’t with your husband?”
I pull my hand out from under his and move to face him. “Who do you talk to?”
Silence.
“You expect me to just put myself out there when I don’t know anything about you? And what do you give me in return, huh?” I question.
“The same,” he answers. “So let’s start now. Before you knocked on my door a few minutes ago, I was on the phone with my father. He was being a fuckin’ knob as always, ridiculing me for decisions I’m making that he doesn’t have a say in, and it drives him crazy to not hold the power in this situation. So there you go, my father’s a bastard to me.”
His eyes are sharp as he says this, the intensity prevalent, and I feel like I just made progress. But I don’t want him pissed right now, so I break the tension, and make him smile when I tease, “A fuckin’ knob? Is this some Scottish insult you guys throw around because I’ve never heard anyone call someone a knob before?”
“Yeah, darling, it is, but if you prefer something more authentic, I can call him a fannybawbag, but then to the random American, I’d probably just sound like a *.”
I laugh at his statement, but let it fall off my lips as I look down at my feet and quiet myself.
“What is it, Nina?” he asks, taking note of my shift in mood. When I don’t immediately respond, he takes my hand, holding it in his as he walks me over to a table and we sit down. “Tell me something about you.”
“I don’t know what you’re wanting.”
“Anything. Just give me a piece,” he says, but when he sees me hesitate, he offers, “Tell me why you don’t have any friends.”
I release a breath, giving him what I know he wants to hear. “Because I’m not from this world. I’m not like those women, and . . .” I stall, taking a moment before adding in a hushed voice, “I’m afraid they’ll judge me, so I rather they just fear me because it’s easier that way.” When I say the words, the truth that lies within them surprises me.
“So you hide?”
“I suppose.”
“Are you lonely?”
“Do I seem lonely?” I question.
“In this moment? Yes.”
Deflecting, I turn it on him, asking, “And what about you? Are you lonely?”
“I moved here from New York when we broke ground on this place. I’ve been so wrapped up with getting everything fit for opening, so yeah, I’ve become lonely.”
“When did you leave Scotland?” I ask.
“I used to spend my summers here in the States when I was in university back home. I’d come here and work for my father, learning the ins and outs of the business, but I didn’t officially pack up and leave until after I graduated with my master’s,” he tells me. “That was seven years ago.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Scotland?”
With a nod of my head, he answers flatly, “Yes,” before asking, “Where are you from?”
“Kansas.”
“What brought you out here?”
I shift in my seat, marking my discomfort with answering, but before I can speak, my cell rings from inside my purse that’s lying on the table. Picking it up, I see it’s Bennett, and answer the call.
“Bennett, hi,” I say so Declan knows who I’m talking to.
“Just checking in. My meeting wrapped up a lot earlier than I expected, and I was hoping to see you,” he says sweetly.
“You just saw me.”
“So is this your way of saying you’re too busy?”
“No, I’m never too busy for you. Are you still at the office?” I ask as I cast a quick glance over at Declan and see the irritation in his eyes.
Good. Get jealous.
“Yeah. Are you hungry? I can have something delivered.”
“That sounds great, honey,” I tell him, playing up the sweetness just to pluck on Declan’s nerves, and I can tell it’s working by the tensed muscles in his neck and his set jaw. “I’m on my way now, okay?”
“All right. I love you.”
“Love you too.”