Terms and Conditions(Dreamland Billionaires #2)(74)

“There isn’t much to tell.” I smile.

He wraps an arm around Declan’s shoulder and guides us to a table. “Nonsense. But first, we need a toast to celebrate your marriage. Is vodka good with everyone?”

Declan’s groan catches in the back of his throat, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes me.

Leo can’t stop smiling as his eyes bounce between the two of us. “Do you prefer something else?”

“No. Vodka sounds great,” Declan speaks through gritted teeth.

My body shakes from quiet laughter, and Leo shoots me a look before he leaves us to go find a bottle of vodka.

“I fucking hate vodka.” Declan drags his chair closer to mine. He wraps his arm against the back of my chair like we do this all the time. His arm brushes against the back of my neck, sending a rush of goosebumps across my arms.

“Are you cold?” He frowns at me.

I only nod, afraid my voice would betray how I really feel about his proximity.

He stands and shimmies off his jacket. “Here.”

He gestures for me to scoot forward. I comply, jaw gaping as he slides the material over my shoulders. It smells like him—clean with a hint of spice. Without looking too obvious, I take a second sniff, allowing the scent of him to filter through my lungs.

My cheeks heat as I catch his eyes zeroed in on me. The inner voice in my head chants to keep him away. That nothing good could come from me entertaining the budding attraction forming between us.

The inner voice wins, all but shoving his kind gesture out the window. “Who knew you would be good at all this?”

“Good at what?” His lips tug downward.

“Your whole thoughtful husband routine could fool me if I’m not careful.” I gesture at the tux jacket threatening to swallow me whole.

His eyes darken. “Not everything is a fucking act.”

I flinch at the bite in his voice.

Isn’t this what you wanted?

Sure, I do. Him being nice isn’t part of the protocol.

There is no protocol. That’s your issue.

Neither of us tries to fill the tense silence, and I can only pray Leo returns to us soon with enough vodka to make his Russian ancestors proud. Anything to save me from this achy feeling growing in my chest.

My prayers are answered as Leo slams the bottle of clear liquor on the tablecloth a few minutes later.

“Here we go.” He crooks two fingers at a waiter who places three empty glasses beside the bottle.

“It’s a family tradition to toast to the newlyweds.”

I nod and grab the full glass Leo holds out for me.

Leo slaps Declan’s shoulder as he places a glass in his hand. “If your grandfather were here, he would have probably had this whole speech written, so I’ll just have to improvise.” He lifts his own tumbler. “Marriage is like going on a road trip with the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, except you have no map or fancy GPS system to help you out. You might not always agree on what music to play or which direction you should go. I can guarantee there will be moments you want to rip your hair out—or each other’s. Just like there will be times that test you, where you think that maybe things would be easier if you hitch a ride with someone else. The point is, life is going to throw a lot of things at you. Stuff like flat tires, dead ends, and mechanical issues. But you can either make the most of the journey with one another or cry about never getting to your destination. No one can make the right decision but you.”

He calls that improvising? I’ve never heard anyone describe marriage in such a raw way like that before. Declan’s gaze clashes into mine, and I wonder if he feels the same. Because no matter what our intentions were when we signed the paperwork linking us as husband and wife, we agreed to a road trip together.

Leo taps his glass against ours. “To the newlyweds.” Declan and he both bring their tumblers to their lips, but I can’t do anything but blink at mine.

I don’t know if I will ever be ready for a marriage like Leo describes. Sure, I might be married to Declan to uphold a legal contract, but that isn’t the same as what Leo shared. His version requires a whole lot of trust and a lot less baggage than I could ever fit in an SUV.

I don’t need to ask Declan how he feels. His intentions are written clear as day across his face—a snapshot into his heart that I know he reveals only for me.

I’m not ready to commit to a road trip. At least not the one he clearly wants. If I did, I would have said yes to my ex when he proposed.

Declan isn’t him. Not even close.

My heart pounds within my chest, like a trapped bird trying to fight its way out of its cage. One thought batters me, over and over, as I sip my drink in silence.

I might have made the biggest mistake of my life by marrying Declan.

Fuck me.





29




DECLAN





Iris stands the moment Leo excuses himself.

“Where are you going?”

She can’t even look me in the eyes as she replies, “Bathroom.”

I rise and grab her hand, forcing her to glance up at me. “Is everything okay?” I hate asking the question almost as much as I hate the haunted look in her eyes. Desperation claws its way up my throat, beckoning me to keep her at my side.