Just the sound of my own heartbeat roaring in my ears.
I try to speak, to say something, but my mouth won’t cooperate.
Joshua’s voice cuts through the fog, cheerful and proud. “Declan, this is my good friend, Claire Thomas. Claire, this is my father… Declan Hart.”
Father.
The word lands like a blow. It rings in my ears. Lodges in my throat.
Declan’s gaze never leaves mine as we’re both forced to come to terms with this truth.
My one-night stand, the man I can’t stop thinking about, is the father of the man I gave my virginity to.
CHAPTER TEN
DECLAN
For a moment,I forget how to breathe.
It feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room, the lights overhead too bright. My pulse stutters in my ears, drowning out Joshua’s voice.
I’ve imagined Claire a hundred different ways since I left Boston. Her body draped over mine. Her laughter echoing around me. Her hair tangled in my hands. I’ve replayed that night like a favorite song, one I knew I’d never hear again but couldn’t stop humming anyway.
For the past few weeks, every time my phone buzzed, I jumped for it, hopeful it was her.
It never was.
I was so desperate I even resorted to trying to find her on social media. Turns out “Claire from California” doesn’t exactly narrow the playing field. I didn’t know her last name. Didn’t know what she did. Didn’t even know if she was real or some illusion conjured by scotch and regret.
I thought it was a lost cause. Thought I’d go the rest of my life without seeing Claire again.
I never imagined I’d see her here. With my son.
I blink, making sure I’m not imagining her. That this isn’t simply a manifestation of my deepest desires.
It’s not.
No matter how hard I try to blink it away, she’s still here.
And she looks even more beautiful than I remember. Her dark hair falls in waves over her shoulders, a simple black dress clinging to her curves in a way that should be illegal. But what has my attention, much like in Boston, are her lips. Painted red. Full. Plump.
And what makes it even worse is that I know how those lips feel. How they move. How they taste.
What I wouldn’t give to have one more taste.
But that ship has sailed. Especially now.
I force my expression into something neutral. Calm. In complete control when I’m anything but.
“It’s nice to meet you, Claire.” I extend my hand toward her.
The seconds seem to stretch as she eyes me, like she’s still processing this turn of events, too. After what feels like an eternity, she finally places her hand in mine.
The instant our skin touches, the same sensation of warmth and fire I experienced during our one night returns. But it’s even more electric. Even more thrilling.
“You, too,” she replies in that same soft voice I’ve imagined moaning my name more times than I care to admit.
I reluctantly let go, reaching to pull out her chair, but Joshua is already there, helping her sit.
