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Only, I don’t hit the ground. I slam into something which feels even harder yet moves with me to soften the blow. Something which feels like a muscled chest. And when his arms come around me, and that familiar dark chocolate and coffee scent of his swirls around me, I allow myself to sink back against that tank-like expanse for a few seconds. During which time, the beating of his heart thuds against my back, his thick forearm is banded about my waist, and my hips are nestled against his pelvis, the thick column in his crotch stabbing into the valley between my butt cheeks. My thighs tremble, and a waterfall seeps out from between my lower lips.Oh, god, it feels so good to be in his arms.With his length supporting me, and his breath raising the hair on my head. His chest rises and falls, his breath coming in quick pants. He tightens his grip around me, and the movement breaks the trance I’ve fallen into. I push up and off of him, then jump to my feet.
"Get the hell away from me, youstronzo." I stab my finger at him. "I don’t need any of your false concern."
"Wait, what?" Declan shakes his head as if to clear it. "It’s not false."
"Tell that to your girlfriend, youpezzo di merda," I say in a voice so cold, so hard, that I can’t stop myself from flinching.
He staggers to his feet. "What are you talking about?" He straightens, and keeps straightening, looming over me so I have to tilt my head back, then further back, just to meet those stupid, gorgeous, traitorous eyes of his. Eyes crowded with concern and confusion, and maybe, even… love.
No-no-no.I won’t try to discern what his eyes are saying when he’s never—not once in all the months we’ve been together—ever come right out and told me how he feels. I'm not going to second-guess him anymore. If he feels something for me, he'd better come out and say it, and then back up his words with actions. Otherwise, based on his actions thus far, I'll have to assume he's the self-centered bastard he's shown himself to be.
I shove aside the need to throw myself into his arms and tilt up my chin. "So, who’s the woman I walked in on with you in your house?" I ask softly. I should be angry and raging. I should be spitting out the words at him. I should be losing my shit, but somehow, all I feel is a sense of calm. At least, I don’t have to pretend. Like I did over the past month, trying to maintain the facade of a relationship to the media, to him, to myself, when in reality, we’ve been running on parallel tracks for a while now.
He blinks, then the confused expression on his features fades away. The crystalline blue of his gaze hardens to a dirty grey, so brittle, surely, it’s going to shatter. Like my heart. He steps back, putting distance between us. A cool wind rushes in between us and I shiver. Goosebumps pepper my skin.
"You came to our house?" he finally asks.
"Yourhouse."
"And you saw me with her?"
Oh, god. He’s not denying it. He’s not.I glance around to find our friends are following our exchange with interest. They’re not close enough to hear us, thankfully. I take a step back, and it might as well be a thousand paces. That’s how huge the distance between us already seems.
"Who was she?" I manage to force out the words through lips gone numb. My stomach churns, heat flushes my skin, and yet, I’m so cold. I wrap my arms around my waist. "Who was she, Declan?"
He looks away into the distance as if calibrating his response. His jaw ticks, and a vein pops at his temple. His shoulders bunch and I know, whatever he’s going to tell me is going to change my future.
I sense the impending shock and brace myself, so when he opens his mouth and says, "I can’t tell you," I’m almost not surprised. And yet, I am.
What did I expect him to say? That she's his wife? A girlfriend? The real love of his life? The reason he’s been unable to make time for me as we've danced the transatlantic-long-distance-relationship-that’s-been-going-down-the-shitter shuffle?
"You can’t tell me?" I finally push the words out through lips gone numb.
He doesn’t answer.
"You can’t tell me who the woman I saw you talking to was? The woman whose shoulders you held; the woman who you consoled as she sobbed into your chest. Was she your sister? A cousin? A relative?" This is his chance to tell me it was all a stupid misunderstanding. That what I saw was completely innocent. That there's a perfectly logical explanation for why he was comforting her.
"Declan?" I whisper, hating how desperate I sound in the moment. Hating the fact that, although I thought I’d resigned myself to the fact that our relationship was slowly fading away, faced with evidence of it, I now realize I hadn’t. I’d hoped we could set things right. That we could meet and talk things out. That we’d each apologize for being so focused on our respective careers. That we could come together and stay strong in the face of all the media scrutiny every time we're spotted together in public.
"Declan, tell me who she was?"
"I can’t."
"What?” I gape. “You can’t tell me who she is?”
He shakes his head slowly.
My heart begins to race. The fine hair on the nape of my neck rises. “Wh-why can’t you?”
He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Trust me on this. You don’t want me to.”
I swallow, then tip up my chin “I do trust you, Declan. You're the man who saved me from a Mafia wedding. You're the man who gave me a chance to pursue my dreams of being a singer. You gave me a place to stay in LA. You’re the one who introduced me around to those in the business. It’s you who gave me the confidence to release my first single. It’s because of you, I followed my dreams. It’s because of you, I found my voice. You created this new me. I owe everything I am to you, but I’d trade it all to find out what’s going on."
He stays silent, our gazes still locked. But he doesn’t say anything.How can he not say anything? Can’t he see I’m dying slowly inside? Why is not saying anything?
He stays there for a few seconds more, then closes the distance between us. He places his palms on my shoulders, and I let him. I let him because he was supposed to be my happily ever after. My one true love. He was supposed to be the one. I thought, when I found him, I’d walk into the sunset with him. I thought I’d found my match. Maybe I was wrong.
"Are you in love with her?" My voice seems to come from far away. My throat is so dry I’m barely able to speak.How could I even form those words? Where did I find the courage to blurt that out? How could I not?
