“Who is she?”
“Just follow her. I want to know what she’s spending her days doing.”
His chuckle agitates me as he responds, “So now I’m a PI, McKinnon?”
“You want to work for someone else?” I snap, setting my old-fashioned down on the bar with too much force, and repeat harshly? “Follow her.”
I DON’T WANT to look like I’m trying too hard, so I go for simplicity, wearing a modest cashmere sweater, slacks, and a pair of flats. I keep my makeup light with a touch of sheer gloss on my lips. My hand nervously shakes as I dab on a little concealer under my eyes to cover the evidence of my lack of sleep last night.
When I left the party, I checked out of the hotel, so it was late when I arrived back here at Isla’s after the two-hour drive. My mind was racing all night, anxious about seeing Declan today and wondering exactly what I’m going to say. A part of me questions what it is I’m even doing here in Scotland. Confusion is my state of mind, so I don’t even attempt to reason my actions, because it’s a doomed feat. All I do know is that I’m lost, and Declan is the only thing that’s familiar and known.
Slipping on my knee-length, ivory pea coat, I make my way down to my car. I find myself speeding to get to Declan, but I’m worried about what will greet me when I arrive. With white knuckles, I take a few slow, deep breaths as I round the bend in the road and approach the gate. For the first time, I roll up to the intercom box and press the button. There’s no answer, but the gates open anyway.
The car moves slowly up the winding road that weaves through tall, snow-covered trees. When I reach the top, I pull in front of what was once promised to be my safe haven of escape. This should’ve been my home with Declan; instead, he’s my lost love, and I, his enemy.
Gravel crunches beneath my feet when I step out of the car. I stand, looking up at the three-story estate that’s secluded up here. Majestic and alone at the top of this hill, the only sound is the wind that howls between the trees and the swirling of snow that blows from the bare branches. I look over to the grand fountain and imagine the sound of its trickling water in the summertime.
“What are you doing?”
I turn to the house and see Declan standing at the front door in a pair of tailored slacks and an untucked button-down. My heart’s beat immediately responds to him, and I murmur, “Nothing. Just looking at the grounds,” while I walk over to him.
He looks down at me as I walk up the steps leading to the front door, and when I get a whiff of his cologne, I want so badly to jump into his arms. To make this all disappear. To go back in time so I can do it all differently. To save him from the cliff of goodness I shoved him off of.
But he doesn’t say a word as he gestures with his hand to enter his home.
It takes nearly all my strength to stay on my feet when I step inside the massive entryway. Looking up and around, everything has been remodeled in an elegant, contemporary flair of whites and ivories. The foyer spans the length of the house, and you can see straight to the back where it opens up to the large, glassed atrium. Everything is bright and peaceful, except for the man who walks past me.
I follow as cold darkness leads me into an elaborate sitting room, which has yet to be remodeled. The walls are lined in aged wooden bookshelves that hold hundreds and hundreds of books. So many you can smell the pages and leathered bindings. An antique chandelier hangs over the large seating area of leather wingback chairs and a tufted chesterfield sofa that’s identical to the one he had in the office of his loft back in River North.
Declan takes a seat in the center of the couch, offering no welcome when he speaks. “Say what you need to say.”
And suddenly, everything I thought about saying last night is gone. I have no words as I look at him. I walk closer, and instead of sitting on the couch with him or on one of the chairs, I sit on the wooden coffee table right in front of him, and when I do, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
We don’t speak for a while; we just look into each other’s eyes. Mine filled with pain and sorrow; his filled with chilling anger. Threatening tears prick and burn, but I fight to remain strong, when truthfully, I’m a shattered little girl, yearning to cling to the solace that’s right in front of me and never let go.
With a shallow breath, my eyes fall shut, pushing a couple tears down my cheek and I whimper, “I’m so sorry.”
I can’t bear to look at him in my insurmountable guilt for what I’ve done. My head drops to my hands as I will for strength, but it doesn’t come. That’s the thing with Declan, he’s always had a way of making it difficult for me to lock up the truth of my emotions. He’s the one person who was able to strip down my barricade and make me feel—truly feel.
When I finally open my eyes, he hasn’t shifted. His hard face remains, unaffected by my tears.