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“Josh and I will join you on Sunday for lunch at your in-laws,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. I’m assuming that you haven’t told your father.”
“No, I haven’t.” The last time I spoke to my father was last Christmas to wish him a merry Christmas and a happy new year combined so I wouldn’t have to call him again.
“Will you tell him, or should I?” she asks.
“You tell him.”
We hang up after that, and I feel as if I’ve come from a two-minute intense boxing match.
Just as I’m about to grab my bag, my phone flashes with a new text. It’s from Declan.
I hope you got home safely.
The words warm my heart even if they’re to the point. It shows that he cares. After the way I left Santa Monica, I was not expecting to hear from him. Declan is a good man. His only bad point is to be fake married to someone whose skills for relationships are practically nonexistent.
I text him back:
I did, thanks. I had a good time today.
I hit send and wait for his response. It comes a few seconds later:
Me too. Have a good night.
I text him back:
Good night.
I’m smiling as I enter the house. It feels as if we’ve reached a truce. I touch my stomach as I walk up to the front door. I wonder if it has happened already?
Maybe Declan and I have already made a baby. The thought is as sobering as it is as exciting. My heart constricts when I remember the terms of our marriage. As soon as I get pregnant, Declan and I will part ways.
It will be for the best in the long term, I tell myself.
Chapter 12
Declan
Are we still on for lunch?
My palms are wet as I send the message to Marian. Rejection sucks, and my wife is pretty good at it. It’s been almost a week since we last communicated, both of us too proud to reach out. I have to be the one to break the stalemate as my parents are expecting Marian and me for lunch.
I tap my desk as I wait for her response. It comes a minute later:
Why would you think that we’re not? I’ll be there. Send me the address.
I’m too relieved to take issue with the fact that her message sounds so defensive, and write:
Wouldn’t it be better if we arrived together since we’re supposed to be married?
She replies:
Supposed?
I type my message:
Married people don’t spend a week without communicating, and they try their best to be together.
A few seconds later, her reply comes in:
You’re right. We’ll do better this coming week, okay?
I reply:
Okay. I’ll be in LA. I signed the papers for the new location.
I hit send, and a few seconds later, my phone buzzes with a call. It’s Marian.
“Hi,” she says in her throaty sexy voice. “What awesome news! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Thank you, I’m pretty pleased,” I tell her.
I snapped up space as soon as it went on the market. The location is superb, and I already have customers with all the guys at the fire station and the police station further down.
“Is that the location you wanted, the former bakery?” she says.
Marian remembers everything I tell her. That memory is something I’ve noticed about her in the short time we’ve known each other. It must be a wonderful asset.
“It is,” I tell her, my voice brimming with excitement. “Next week, we’ll be busy with renovations and customizing it.”
“That means you’ll be in LA,” she says.
“Yes.”
“Will you stay at Pine Place?” she asks and then adds quickly, “we don’t have to sleep in the same room. You’ll have your space.”
I inhale deeply. She’s doing her part, and I should do mine, though I’m still smarting from the way she left Santa Monica last week.
“I’ll give you a key,” she adds softly.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Oh, one more thing. Do you think it’s okay with your mother if I bring down two guests with me? It’s my mother and her fiancé. They’ll be in town tomorrow, and I can’t just leave them to their own devices when they’ve come to see me.”
“I’m sure it will be okay. We’ll kill two birds with one stone and introduce everyone at the same time,” I tell her.
“Thanks, Declan.” I can hear the smile in her voice. I try and picture her at her office and fail. I make a mental note to see where she works when I’m in LA the following week.
I call my mother after Marian and I finish talking and tell her about the two extra guests. She doesn’t sound pleased, but she doesn’t have much of a choice.
The lunch with Marian sorted, I turn my attention back to work, paying suppliers, going through the accounts, and other mindless tasks that I have to do as a business owner.
