Echo (Black Lotus #2)(31)

He paces the room, enraged.

“Declan, there’s so much you don’t know. So much I never told you because I couldn’t.”

“You could, you were just too selfish.”

“Okay, yes. You’re right. I was selfish. Selfish and scared. But you loved me, right?”

“I don’t know who the f*ck you are! Tell me. Tell me who you are because I’m so goddamn confused right now!”

“I don’t know,” I whimper and then stand with him.

“You do know.”

“I don’t. I want to know. I’m trying.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know!”

Pacing a couple more times in determined strides, he finally gives up and walks to the door.

“I can’t do this shit anymore.”

And then he walks out, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Sobs explode out of me—loud and vulgar. I don’t expect him to understand or to even want to. I’m sick; I know that. I knew I’d never have him again, but it doesn’t make the pain any less awful when he walks away from me.

“Elizabeth!” Isla calls out in urgency as she rushes into my room.

I instantly catch myself, swallowing back my sobs and wiping my face. “I’m fine. I’m so sorry for the disruption,” I say thickly as I weakly feign composure.

“Stop that!” she scolds as she takes my hand and walks me over to sit on the bed. “Are you okay, lassie?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

And with the pitying look on her face, I know she isn’t the slightest bit convinced.

“What was the McKinnon boy doing here? You never mentioned knowing him when we were discussing him the other morning.”

“I’m sorry, Isla,” I state calmly now that my breathing is steadying.

“Sorry?”

“I do know Declan, I just didn’t want anyone to know.”

Her thumb strokes the top of my hand, looking over me, and finally concludes, “It was him. He’s the love you lost.” She doesn’t question, only states what she’s figured out.

I nod and apologize once more for pretending to not know who he was the other day.

“I’m confused though. I thought you told me he died?”

And now I must lie, because I can’t possibly tell her the truth.

“I guess it was easier to pretend him dead. The thought of living in a world where he existed without me was much too painful.”

With a tilt of her head, her brows tug in sorrow for me.

“I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Shaking her head, she affirms, “Don’t be. You’re heartbroken; it’s understandable.”

“But it’s not excusable.”

“It is, dear.”

We sit for a while as she continues to hold my hands before adding, “He seemed quite angry.”

“He is. But if it’s all right with you, I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Of course not,” she responds. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?”

“Thank you, but I’m fine.”

“Okay then. Well, I’ll leave you be. Good night.”

“Good night,” I say as she walks out of the room and closes the door behind her.

I remain on the bed, unmoving, and alone with my thoughts. Exhaustion presses down on me as I turn my head to the side and eye my luggage.

Maybe I could stay a little longer.

I know I shouldn’t. I know I need to need go and erase myself from Declan’s life so he can move on and heal. It’s a lost cause trying to explain all of this to him. But maybe it doesn’t even matter, because in the end, he’s right. I’m f*cked up and none of this makes any sense.





“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” I ask when I pull up beside Lachlan’s car sitting outside the gates to my house.

Holding up a file, he calls out, “Property closing. I need you to sign.”

Christ, all I want is to be alone with a bottle of Aberfeldy. To try my best to relax and calm the nerves that Nina has so intensely provoked.

Lachlan pulls in behind me and follows me up to the house. I’m on edge, still unable to even think about what just happened and the things she told me. If I allow myself to go to that place in my head right now, I’ll completely lose my shit. So when I get out of the car, I exert control and compose myself.

“You couldn’t have emailed this to me?” I complain as we walk inside.

“They won’t accept an electronic signature.”

Flipping on the lights, I head back to the library to go over the final contract on the property in London I’ve been contending to acquire.

“You have any plans on selling this place?” Lachlan asks, and when I take a seat on the couch, he sits opposite me in one of the chairs.

“Why?”

“It’s pretentious.”

“Fucking dobber,” I breathe under my breath.

“I heard that, you bastard.”

“Good.”

I’ve known Lachlan since our college days. He was working on his PhD while I was working on my master’s at Saint Andrews. We were both a part of the OxFam Society and worked on many campaigns together. We’ve remained linked because of his relationship with my father. When Lachlan was my age, he worked in wealth management at one of the top firms in London, where my dad keeps his investments. Lachlan was his advisor for many years before he opted for a less demanding position and started advising small companies independently.