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Chapter Twelve
“Donovan!” The cheer arose from the crowd in Cupid’s Arrow Bar & Grill as Donovan, Troy, and Mila stepped through the heavy wooden door. He felt like Norm from Cheers, and it wasn’t a bad feeling at all. As a Secret Service agent, he had to cultivate a sense of invisibility, of conformity with his fellow agents. They dressed alike, had identical stances and manners. He doubted a random member of the public could’ve picked them apart in a line up. So being in a place where everybody knew his name, so to speak, was kind of a rush.
Troy punched his shoulder. “Guess M and I are chopped liver.”
Mila grinned. “Nah. We’re just the Donovan taxi service.”
Donovan laughed and ruffled her hair. “Look at you, kid! You got jokes!”
Troy grinned and put his arm around their sister, beaming with pride. “What do you think? I’m raising her, D. She’s gonna bring the heat.”
Donovan laughed along, feeling warmed by the family exchange, but underneath there was a pang.
It was true. Troy was raising her. Donovan was missing out. The girl was practically a stranger to him. He’d heard her singing in her room the night before and she had a damn good voice. When had that happened?
He realized that, while he’d been in DC, he’d kind of expected life in Valentine Bay to freeze in place. Of course, it hadn’t been a conscious expectation. That would’ve made him a crazy person. But, hell, he must’ve been expecting it subconsciously, or why would all the changes continue to shock him so much?
His eyes alighted on Ella, sitting in a corner booth with Genevieve, her head thrown back in laughter at whatever Genevieve had just said.
God. That was the thing that he’d expected to stay frozen in time most of all—his relationship with Ella. That was insanity, of course. You couldn’t just disappear from someone’s life for five years and then expect to pop back in as if nothing had changed, but he really wished he could. Being around her again now, it fully hit him how much he had missed her. He had pushed those feelings down for the past five years, just like he’d pushed down all of his feelings. After all, if he couldn’t feel anything, then he wouldn’t have to face the emotions that scared him most of all. Grief. Guilt.
Especially guilt.
But, damn. Being back in Valentine Bay was forcing him to come face-to-face with those terrifying emotions, and, yeah, he wasn’t going to lie, it sucked. It hurt like a motherfucker. But it hadn’t killed him. At least not yet. He was still standing.
He crossed the room to the booth where Ella and Genevieve sat. “Hey, ladies. Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”
Before Ella could respond, Genevieve winked at her and then turned to him and said, “Well, it’s about to be a private party. See you kids later.” And with that, she hopped up and headed to the bar, leaving an empty seat at the two-person booth for Donovan to occupy.
He sat down and Ella laughed a little, tucking her hair behind her ear. His heart jumped. That was such an adorable habit that she’d always had. He loved it. She gave him a sideways grin. “She’s not so subtle.”
He shrugged. “She never has been. I’d be more worried if she started now. In fact, that might be the first clue to the invasion of the pod people.”
“For sure.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment, and Donovan hated the awkward energy that seemed to pervade a good part of their interactions since he’d been back. He knew he only had himself to blame, but still. There had been a couple of moments in the last day where the old magic had flowed between them, and it was just like it used to be. He’d give anything to have that back.
As he let his eyes wander around the crowded interior of the bar and grill, he couldn’t help but notice the furtive glances that kept flying across the room at them. That’s when he realized what the mystery factor was that caused he and Ella to be so stiff and awkward. It wasn’t anything to do with the two of them. It was other goddamn people.
Of course they felt weird; they were the human equivalents of bugs under glass, being observed by hundreds of curious onlookers, hungry for gossip.
He leaned across the table. “I feel like a lion in the zoo, just pacing back and forth while people wander by my cage and stare. Wanna get out of here?”
Relief swept over her features. “Yes. Let’s go.”
They stood, and he helped her on with her coat. As they crossed the room toward the door, she turned to look at him. “Do you think we’re being paranoid? Or maybe a little too full of ourselves? Do you think people really care that much about what we’re doing?”
Donovan was just opening up the restaurant’s door as the last words of Ell’s question escaped her lips. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, a raucous cheer erupted from the crowd inside, complete with wolf whistles and shouts of, “Hell, yeah!” and “Go, Valentine!” Genevieve’s voice could be heard above the rest of the noise as she shouted, “That’s my girl!”
Donovan shook his head as the door swung shut behind them. Taking Ella’s flaming red cheeks in his hands, he chuckled, “Well, I guess you have your answer.”
