“Seriously, Declan. It’s no big deal.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” I force a smile, and another heavy silence falls between us, neither of us knowing what to say.
I’m not sure thereisanything to say.
“Well…” He clears his throat. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Thanks for your help. And the shirt.”
“Of course.”
He holds my gaze for several long moments, then slips out of my office and into the hallway. Once he disappears from view, I slump into my chair.
It was one thing to pretend that night never happened when he was living on the other side of the country. Out of sight. Out of mind.
But to learn he’s not only staying through the holidays, but is my new neighbor?
One thing is certain. This holiday season just got a lot more interesting…
And complicated.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DECLAN
I can’t sleep.Not really.
The red numbers on the clock blur every time I roll over. 2:13. 3:27. 4:02. Each minute stretches longer than the last. It’s not the unfamiliarity of the bed or the creak of the townhouse settling around me. It’s her.
Claire.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her. The way she looked at me in her office mere hours ago. So much heat in her gaze. Like she was ready to forget all the reasons this is a bad idea and beg me to take her against the desk.
God help me, I wanted to. Wanted to erase the distance, fist my hand in her hair, and kiss her until neither of us could breathe. Give myself one last taste.
But I doubt I’d be satisfied with just one last taste.
I’d want more.
And I can’t have more.
So I need to settle for nothing. It’s the only way.
When the first pale thread of dawn filters through the blinds, I give up on sleep. I shove back the covers and plant my feet on the cool hardwood. After heading into the bathroom and splashing some water on my face, I change into a pair of runningshorts and a long-sleeved shirt. Maybe pounding the pavement will quiet my mind and help me to stop fantasizing about my son’s ex.
As I step outside, the crisp morning air hits me, but it’s nothing like the frigid temperatures in D.C. this time of year. This is actually quite comfortable. And quiet. If I were back home, the sidewalks would already be teeming with people, even at this early hour.
But here, everything is peaceful. I can make out the soft rumble of a few cars in the distance, along with the occasional barking dog, but other than that, the town is still. Serene. Tranquil.
As I make my way off the porch, I glance to my right. At Claire’s townhouse.
There’s a wreath on the front door, her porch strung with lights and garland. More lights line the roof and eaves, and there’s a Christmas tree in the front bay windows. I smile at the image of Claire decorating her home. Listening to Christmas carols. Maybe even singing along to them.
But then I notice a curtain move in a window on the second floor. I quickly tear my gaze away and take off at a slow pace.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I use the opportunity to explore the small town where my son grew up.
What did he do here as a kid? Did he ride his bike down this same sidewalk? Did he eat ice cream on one of the benches along Main Street? Did he play in the park by City Hall? I want to know. Ineedto know. I missed twenty-four years. Twenty-four birthdays. Twenty-four Christmases.
