“Yeah, see you in two months,” he replies, clearing his throat.
I climb from the bed and swallow down the emotion building in my throat.
When I take a step toward the door, Declan sits up in a rush. “Shakespeare, wait.”
Turning around, I stare at him expectantly. He picks up his sketchbook and violently rips a page out. Then, with inky black fingers, he holds it out to me.
As I take the charcoal sketch, the pain in my throat gets worse. It stings relentlessly. And when I glance down at the drawing, I release the dam holding everything back.
A tear fills my lashes as I stare at the drawing on the page.
It’s me.
I’m laughing, my eyes crinkled at the edges as I look off into the distance. It’s so impressive and lifelike. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s not the proper and composed version of me,but the happy, relaxed version of me that matches how I feel inside. Somehow, Declan always seems to see the real me.
“This is incredible, Dec,” I whisper, blinking a tear down my cheek.
I’m embarrassed for being so emotional. But I know he won’t tease me for it.
“Please don’t say that,” he groans, clearly uncomfortable with the praise.
“Fine,” I reply with a sad laugh. “It’s terrible.”
“Much better,” he replies with a despondent smile.
“It’s really, really awful,” I add, smirking at him through my tears.
“Well, you’ve got a pretty face. Makes my job easy.”
I soak up his compliment because I like the way it tastes. Hearing him call me pretty. Drawing me to look so handsome. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
Clutching the drawing to my chest, I wipe the moisture from my face. “Goodbye, Declan.”
“Bye, Shakespeare,” he replies softly.
His eyes don’t lift from the empty page in his sketchbook as I back out of the room. He never glances up at me once as I go, which should make me sad, but to be honest, it gives me reassurance.
Declan doesn’t want to say goodbye because I mean something to him, and I’ve never wanted to mean anything to anyone as much as I want to with him.
Chapter Fourteen
Declan
Five days until the wedding
“Where should we put these, Mr. Barclay?”
I spin around to find two young women each holding a box of crystal vases that I have never seen in my life.
“How the fuck should I know?” I reply, wincing as soon as I hear the words leave my mouth.
The girls stare at me wide-eyed and terrified, the boxes practically shaking, when a soft hand touches my arm and a warm voice says, “On the tables in the dining room should be fine.”
I turn to find Blaire beaming politely at the trembling employees. As soon as they scurry off, I let out a sigh and rub my forehead.
“Thank you,” I mutter with appreciation.
“It’s fine,” she says with a laugh. “They’re just used to Anna, but I can handle you.”
