Hush (Black Lotus #3)(29)

“Client meetings?”

“Oh, excuse my bad manners. I’m an interior decorator. I’m working on three homes at the moment. Two I’m finishing so my workload will be lightening up soon.”

“That sounds like a fun job.”

“Anything that involves shopping on another person’s dime is fun,” she laughs.

When we finish dinner, I stand and collect the plates, taking them to the kitchen so she and Declan can continue to talk. When I put the kettle on the stove to boil water for tea and coffee, I see Davina’s phone on the bar where she was sitting earlier light up and vibrate with an incoming call. While I wait for the water to heat, I pick up her phone and take it over to her.

“I think someone just tried calling you,” I say when I hand it to her.

“Oh, thank you.” She takes the phone and looks to see who called, mumbling, “Bawbags.”

“What’s wrong?” Declan asks as I sit back down.

“It’s William.”

“I didn’t think you two spoke anymore.”

“We don’t, but apparently I have a piece of jewelry that belonged to his mother that he’s demanding. I’ve told him there’s none in the house that belongs to him and to check his safe deposit box, but he claims it isn’t in there. He’s keeps hounding me about it.”

“Tell him to let the attorneys handle it.”

“I did, but the cheap bastard refuses,” she tells Declan before turning to me to clarify, “Ex-husband.”

“Oh.”

“We divorced for religious reasons. He thought he was God, and I didn’t.”

Out of all her jokes she’s made, this is the first where I can’t help my laughter.

“Have you been married before?” she asks, and my laughter wanes.

I bite my lip and turn to Declan when I nearly blurt out yes without thinking. She’s caught me off guard, and when Declan sees, he speaks for me.

“No. She’s never been married.”

Davina looks between Declan and me with a curious expression upon her face, most likely wondering why her question choked me up and why Declan would butt in to answer for me. She knows something is off, and I thank God for the kettle on the stove as it begins to whistle loudly.

“Excuse me,” I say, getting up and rushing off to the kitchen.

I take in a deep breath, sick and tired of all the questions. I’ve lived so many years pretending to be Nina that she feels like a part of me, and when asked questions, I forget that I’m just Elizabeth and I can’t be crossing the two lives.

“Are you okay?” Declan asks in a quiet voice when he joins me in the kitchen.

“She knows we’re lying. Did you see the look on her face?”

“She doesn’t. It’s fine,” he says. “Stop worrying.”

“Here.” I hand him the French press. “Take this to the table please.”

He does, and I follow with my tea. The evening winds down as we finish our drinks, and when Davina announces she must be going, I pacify her with a few empty pleasantries before thanking her for coming over, and she reminds me to give her a call.

“We’ll go shopping or meet up for a nice lunch,” she says, and I respond by lying, “That sounds really nice.”

“You can get my number from Declan.”

We say our goodbyes, and when she’s out the door, Declan says, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” I fib. “She’s very lovely.”

He eyes me suspiciously.

“What?” I question.

“You’re not still jealous, are you?”

“No, I’m not still jealous,” I fib again. “You’re awfully full of yourself.”

“I like it when you’re jealous.” He reaches for me, but I dodge his touch. “Get your ass back here.”

“You wish, McKinnon. You want to touch me?”

“Always.”

“Payback’s a bitch,” I taunt. “You shouldn’t have teased me so much earlier.”

“You’re sadly mistaken if you think you call the shots around here.”

He moves towards me again, but with each step forward, I take one step back, keeping the distance between us. He wears a smile almost as big as mine as I try to contain my laughter. I love this side of us together, a side we’ve yet to explore with one another. It’s young and free-spirited and a rare look inside Declan’s boyish charm. There’s a joyful glint in his eyes that makes me want to run to him.

But where’s the fun in that?

Let him catch me!





“I HAVE THE plane scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon,” Declan tells me when he walks into the living room. “What are you doing?”

I lift my pencil from the paper and look at the jumbled letters, realizing how crazy it must look to him. “I have to keep trying.”

“I’m not accusing, darling. I’m just curious what all those letters mean.”

“I don’t know,” I admit with a shrug of my shoulders. “I guess I wanted to see if there was something to the names. That maybe if I took the letters and rearranged them I would be . . .” I let my words fade when I’m aware of how nutty I sound. “I just . . . I can’t give up.”