I steal a glance toward the door, not surprised to see her making her way along the rooftop terrace, two women at her side.
One is pregnant, with the same smile I’ve seen soften Claire’s entire face. The other is older, silver-haired, with the same eyes that bewitched me from the moment I first saw them. I don’t have to ask to know they’re her sister and mother.
“There you are,” Joshua says upon noticing her.
But her eyes don’t go to him. They lock on mine.
“I thought I’d have to drag you away from the office myself.” He strides toward her and presses a kiss to her cheek.
Casual.
Effortless.
Natural.
I hate how easy it looks.
I hate how much I want to do the same.
“We took care of it for you,” the older woman says.
“Thanks, Ms. Thomas.” They briefly embrace, and it’s obvious Joshua feels comfortable around Claire’s family.
“I keep telling her there are more important things than work, but she won’t listen to me.”
“I’ll try to talk some sense into her.” Joshua winks at Claire’s mother, then looks back at me. “Ms. Thomas, I’d like to introduce you to my father, Declan Hart. Declan, this is Claire’s mother, Judy.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand, doing my best to look like the man I usually am. Controlled. Polite. Unaffected.
“And you remember Claire, of course,” Joshua says.
I shift my gaze back to Claire. “Of course,” I reply softly, extending my hand toward her, although I know I shouldn’t.
It doesn’t matter that our hands are covered in gloves. The second I feel her touch, warmth spreads through me. It reminds me of feeling her hands pull at my hair. Her nails digging into my back. Her skin slick with sweat as we both succumbed to our urges.
“It’s good to see you again, Declan,” she says, her voice careful. Measured.
“You, as well.”
“This is my sister, Genevieve,” Claire states, pulling her hand from mine. “You’re staying in her fiancé’s townhouse right now.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Genevieve offers with a sly smile as we shake hands.
Claire gives her sister a gentle jab, making me think she’s heard more than she should have.
I notice her mother look between them, her brow furrowed in curiosity. Thankfully, the sound of a marching band playing “Jingle Bells” cuts through, and everyone’s attention shifts to the approaching parade.
“Shall we?” Joshua looks at Claire, who nods.
He places a hand on her back and steers her toward the railing.
I join them, watching as the parade winds down Main Street. But my focus isn’t really on the marching bands or the floats. Instead, I look at all the happy couples embracing in the cold, and an ache squeezes my chest.
I’ve spent most of my adult life living in cities. Walked by couples holding hands or embracing. It never bothered me before. Never caused this yearning deep inside of me.
That was before I met Claire. Now, I want nothing more than to pull her close. Wrap her in my arms. Press soft kisses to her hair.
But I can’t do that.
