I knew it was coming. I still felt the drop.
“What did you say?”
“Yes.”
My fingers tightened in Tiny’s fur. “Okay.”
“She asked how long. I told her a few months.”
“Okay.”
“She asked if it had become physical.”
My throat closed.
“I told her yes.”
I stared at the dog because looking at Declan right then felt like stepping too close to an open flame. Tiny blinked up at me with his big tragic face, completely unaware of how badly humans could injure each other without raising a hand.
“She asked if it was serious,” Declan said.
I forced myself to look at him.
He looked back.
“I said yes.”
My face probably gave me away. It usually did. My emotions had never understood chain of command.
“She asked if I loved the person.”
Everything inside me paused at once.
The room became too defined. The lamp. The seam on the couch cushion. Tiny’s collar tag against my wrist. Declan’s knuckles. My own breathing, not quite steady.
“You said my name?” I asked.
“No.” His voice was steady, but it cost him. “She asked if I loved the person. I said yes.”
Yes.
He had given the word to his wife first. Not because it belonged there, but because she had asked him for truth while her life changed shape in front of her.
Happiness rose in me and collided with guilt so violently neither survived intact.
“Did she ask if she knew me?”
“Yes.”
My stomach twisted. “And?”
“I told her I wouldn’t answer that tonight.”
I stared at him.
“She deserved honesty,” he said. “She didn’t deserve your name dropped into the first hit.”
I pressed my palm to my mouth and nodded once.
