This year, I have him.
Even if Declan couldn’t be here like he’d hoped.
Despite the challenges of a long-distance relationship, we’ve made it work over the past year. Thankfully, we’re both able to work remotely at times, which allows us to see each other quite often. Declan even bought Finn’s townhouse so he has a place to call home in Sycamore Falls. I know this arrangement can’t go on forever. One day I’ll have to move to D.C. if I want to be with Declan. But I’m enjoying what we have. And what we have is amazing.
As I make my way through the lobby after a long day of seminars, I glance toward the bar that changed everything. I’d planned to head straight to my room to get some sleep before myearly morning flight to D.C. tomorrow. But since this is my last night in town, I let myself drift toward the bar.
The bartender greets me with a smile, and soon I’m sipping a glass of wine, the robust cabernet warming me. The air smells faintly of citrus peel and clove from the mulled wine being served. The comforting murmur of strangers swells around me, intermingling with laughter and clinking glasses.
Relaxing into my barstool, I pull out my phone and snap a photo of my wine, ensuring I capture the familiar background.
Then I send it to Declan.
Me:
Wish you were here.
He doesn’t immediately reply. It’s not surprising. He’s buried in oral argument prep and warned me he’d be working late. All so he can devote his full attention to me the second my plane lands tomorrow morning.
I take another sip, idly scrolling social media, when movement catches my eye. I look up and my stomach sinks as the same creep from last year, who I’ve been avoiding all week at this conference, makes his way toward the bar.
Our eyes meet, and I look away, but it doesn’t matter.
He still takes it as an invitation.
Apparently, his ability to read the room hasn’t improved.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, looming over me.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I bite out.
He smirks. “I’ll take my chances.” He slides into the chair beside me.
“I was just leaving anyway.” I start to stand, but his hand clamps around my wrist.
“Stay. I promise I don’t bite.” He licks his lips, raking his gaze down my body. “Unless you want me to.”
I open my mouth to berate him when a loud voice thunders behind me.
“If you don’t want me to break every bone in that hand, you’ll let her go right now.”
My head whips around, and I inhale a sharp breath.
Declan.
Dark suit, broad shoulders, fury carved into every line of his face.
The creep’s grip loosens instantly, but that doesn’t matter to Declan. He moves closer, looming large over him.
“I thought you learned your lesson last year.”
“I— I was just being friendly,” the man stammers.
“Didn’t look that way to me.” Declan’s tone drops, low and dangerous. “Now apologize.”
“I didn’t?—”
“I said…” Declan takes a deliberate step closer, “apologize.”
