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Brooke, Jason, and I exchange quick hugs, but all the while, they throw cautious glances at Declan.
The four of us stand there looking at each other before I speak up. “Brooke, Jason …” This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not an actress. “You know Declan.”
Jason ignores Declan’s outstretched hand.
“What’s going on, Brooke?” Jason says.
I’m not surprised by Jason’s reaction. He and Marvin were the big brothers that I never had.
“It’s a long story, but Declan and I have decided to try and make the marriage work.” I smile foolishly and look from Jason to Brooke.
“What?” Brooke says. “That’s insane.”
Declan drapes an arm around me possessively and pulls me close against his body. It feels nice to be held like that. As if he truly cares.
“I didn’t believe in love at first sight before now,” Declan says. His voice brims with sincerity. “When Marian walked into that plane and sat down next to me, something inside me clicked, and I knew that she was the one, even before she said a word.”
I’m as mesmerized by Declan as Jason and Brooke are. I’m in awe of his acting skills. He’s so convincing that I’m beginning to believe that we actually fell in love at first sight.
“We may have rushed the wedding, but I believe that we eventually would still have gotten married.” Declan shoots me a loving stare, and I try my best to return one. He looks back at Jason and Brooke. “If I had my way, I would have married her the same day we met on the plane.”
“So, you want to tell me that the wedding wasn’t a mistake for you?”
Declan shakes his head. “I admit it was impulsive, but I never for one moment regretted marrying Marian.”
Brooke stares at me. “But when we spoke, you sounded so hysterical and frightened.”
Her statement is more of a question. I glance up at Declan, an adoring look on my face. “I wasn’t hysterical for long.” I giggle. I know I sound like an idiot, but I don’t know how else to act like a woman in love.
“This just sounds weird. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I don’t believe this. This is just not like Marian,” Jason says to Declan.
“I’m happy to know that Marian has people that care about her so much,” Declan says and kisses the top of my head.
Jason lets out a sigh. I feel bad. He looks so frustrated, and Brooke just looks confused.
“Shall we go?” Declan says. He’s the only one of the four of us who seems to be cool and calm.
Declan stores our luggage in the car’s trunk before slipping into the back seat next to me. He takes my hand, and I try to pull it away. Brooke and Jason can’t see us from the front, so I don’t see why he’s continuing with the act.
“Where are we going?” Jason says.
“My place,” I say.
The drive from the airport to my place is uncomfortable and tense. No one bothers to make conversation, and I’m glad when Jason pulls up my home’s driveway.
Declan whistles. “Is this where you live?”
“Yes,” I say, my chest filling with pride at the obvious admiration in his voice.
“Call us if you need us,” Jason says.
Declan and I get out of the car, and he gets our bags from the trunk. We stand at the driveway until Jason and Brooke drive off. I don’t fail to notice the worried expressions on their faces.
“I’m sorry about that,” I tell Declan feeling an urge to excuse my friends’ behavior.
Declan shakes his head. “I’d be the same if you were my best friend.”
“Let’s go in.”
Chapter 6
Declan
Marian’s business is doing well judging by the size of her house and the area in which she lives.
“Everything looks new,” I tell her as we pass through the living room. “And smells new.”
She lets out a laugh. “You’re very perceptive. I moved in less than two weeks ago.”
“Congratulations,” I tell her.
“Before I show you to the guest room, we need to talk,” she says. “Coffee?”
“Sure.” I follow her to the kitchen, my eyes glued to her curvy ass.
Marian’s kitchen is industrial-sized, and all of the equipment gleams with newness. I like that she’s neat and there’s nothing out of place in the kitchen.
I slide into a stool on the island as Marian gets the coffee machine going.
“How do you like your coffee?” she asks and then laughs. “Funny question to ask your husband?”
“Black, no sugar,” I say. “What about you? How do you like your coffee?”
“The same as you, black, no sugar,” she says.
“See, we have something in common.”
She raises her eyebrow and then turns away to pour the coffee into mugs.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask her when she sits down.
“Rules,” she says.
“What rules?”
“Conditions, rules … call them what you like,” Marian says.
