“That’s Freddy.”
He knows them by name. My heart threatens to burst inside of my chest.
“May I?” I want to keep swiping through his photos and learn more about the man who hides himself away from the world.
I want to know everything.
He nods. I swipe through a set of photos featuring three other kids. Each of them have different prosthetics, with one child requiring four.
I recognize the location of one photo instantly.
“You all went to Dreamland?”
“They did.”
Huh. “Where were you?”
“Working.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“Does it matter?”
Yes! I want to yell, but my throat dries up and I lose all capacity to speak. The tightness in my chest intensifies, having everything to do with how he sent the kids to Dreamland together without him despite him wanting to be there.
I don’t know why it makes me sad but it does. Maybe it’s because Declan has his eyes set on a position he thinks will be the answer to everything, all while missing out on what life has to offer. And frankly, that’s no way to live.
For someone hell-bent on succeeding at everything, he truly fails at life. I want to help him realize that there is so much more to everything than merely existing. That if he spends any more years skipping out on what is truly important, he might regret it later. No. He will regret it. I can guarantee it because there will always be some new goal he thinks will fill that gaping hole in his chest. All of them will fall short. It’s a vicious cycle driven by one sad fact: he is looking for happiness in all the wrong places.
I spot all the signs I’ve become personally familiar with.
Then what are you going to do about it?
20
IRIS
Heavy rain splatters against the deck, obscuring our view of the bush. Dark gray clouds block out any sunlight. My faith about going out on today’s safari dwindles with each drop of water splashing against the ground.
“Do you think they’ll still take us out today?” I ask, unable to stop the hope from seeping into my question.
A lightning bolt cuts through the clouds before a rumble of thunder shakes the glass.
He shakes his head. “We’re not going out in a storm like that, regardless of what they say.”
“But—”
“No.”
I huff. “It’s a summer shower. It’ll be gone before you know it.”
Lightning strikes again, filling the sky with a bright light. He shoots me a look that requires no translation.
“Fine. You’re right.” My bottom lip juts out as I pout.
“You’re giving up already? At least make me work for it.” His eyes rival the blinding light outside. The way he stares at me, with quiet challenge, has me wanting to push back.
“Part of me thinks you like picking fights with me because it’s the only way you know how to keep me around.”
A noise gets trapped in his throat. “Why would I want that?”
“Because I think you like talking to me.”
“Is anyone else aware of what a narcissist you are?”
“I’m surprised you noticed with how obsessed you are with yourself.”
He spoils me with a small smile that gives me the same rush of pride as climbing the tallest mountain. I grin back at him, and his eyes drop to my lips. The warmth in my chest reroutes itself toward a different area of my body.
“Admit it. You like hanging around me.”
Now you’re flirting with him?
His smile only expands. “I don’t exactly hate it.”
“Coming from you, that’s practically a declaration of love.”
He blinks, and I’m hit with the temptation to slap myself.
Ugh. Why did you phrase it like that?
Because you’re too busy flirting to use your common sense.
“Well, this is my sign to go jump in front of the nearest moving vehicle.” I turn away from the sliding door, desperate for some distance.
Run while you still can.
“What do you plan on doing today?” His question shocks me.
I stop and look over my shoulder. “Why are you asking?”
“I’m curious.”
“I doubt you’re interested in whatever I have planned.”
You don’t have a plan.
Then I better think of one quick because the last thing I need is to spend more time with Declan. I’m already weak when it comes to him.
“Try me.”
Fuck.
“I’ll probably watch TV all day until my brain melts.”
“Sounds absolutely riveting.”
The glass door shakes with another rumble of thunder. I take it as my hint to get out of here before Declan asks me any more questions.
“At least you can spend the day catching up on work. I’m sure it kills you to be away from your computer for more than twenty-four hours.” I send him one last smile over my shoulder before I exit the room.
The clapping of his leather shoes against the tile follows me all the way into the living room. I try to ignore him, but he makes it progressively difficult as he parks himself on the couch beside me, leaving only a cushion between us.
“What are you doing?” I frown.
“An experiment.”
“Pardon?” I choke the remote control.
“I want to see just how many hours it takes before your brain melts. Strictly for scientific purposes.”
Oh my God. Does he actually want to spend time with you outside of staged events and social media propaganda?
“You want to join me?”
“I have nothing better to do.”
That has to be the biggest backhanded compliment I’ve ever received, yet it makes me smile nonetheless. Declan has plenty of things to do. He could spend the day catching up on work that is piling up during our vacation, but he would rather watch TV with me.
A fluttering sensation in my stomach makes me antsy. I shouldn’t obsess over something as small as Declan sacrificing his work to spend time with me, but I do anyway. This is a man who will make business deals from his bed with a fever of a hundred and three. Him taking a day off to do nothing but watch TV is huge.
Don’t get used to it.
Easier said than done. Because if Declan keeps doing sweet things like this, I might start craving them. And that can only lead to one thing.
Disappointment.
I turn on the smart TV, sign into my streaming service account, and choose my comfort home renovation show, hoping it can ease the anxiety bubbling inside of me. I tuck my legs under me and get comfortable. It doesn’t take long for the weight pressing against my chest to lessen, and I’m grateful for it.
By the time the credits roll, I expect Declan to rise up and dismiss himself from the rest of my plans. He remains seated as the next episode starts automatically.
“You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to,” I offer him an out.
He only replies by grabbing the remote from the coffee table and putting the volume louder.
Well, that answers everything.
He wants to spend time with you.
My skin tingles in response, and I can’t help hiding my smile with a throw pillow.