Page 94 of Always Be an Us

"That’s what you were doing in the bathroom? Getting to know each other?" Her tone has a hint of humor in it. And if I didn’t know any better, I would think that the back of Delan’s neck was getting a little red.

"Fine. I guess you could say we’re dating," he surprises me by admitting.

"Oh," Amelia says, the smile disappearing from her eyes.

"How do you feel about it?" I ask anxiously.

She purses her lips as she thinks about it and then says, "I don’t know. It’s a little weird because I haven’t seen Dad date anyone before. And you’re younger than him…"

"Not by that much," I clarify. I'm not sure how old Declan is, but I'm guessing he's in his late thirties, and I'm in my mid-twenties. Even though a twelve-year age difference would be a lot to certain people, it doesn't feel that way with Declan and me. "I'm older than I look. And I really do care about your dad. And you."

"Yeah?" Amelia considers it for a few more seconds and then says, "Well, I guess it’s fine, then. As long as the two of you don’t make kissy faces at each other through dinner and stuff."

"No, we won’t," I say. "I swear."

She nods, but Declan doesn’t turn around. Instead, he says, "Can you give us a second, Emma?"

"Sure," I say. I close the door behind him as I leave. I know he wants to talk to Amelia privately to get her true feelings about our relationship. I don't take offense at it. I'm kind of relieved to be done with the conversation actually.

Meanwhile, I press my hands against my heated cheeks and head back to the living room, collapsing on a sectional.

Only then do I realize that someone is sitting on the couch already, a young petite blonde woman. Sandy, I'm guessing.

She waves awkwardly and I wave back just as awkwardly.

Great. More audience to this embarrassment.

"For what it’s worth," she says as I lean back. "I don’t blame you. Mr. Tudor is a certified hottie."

I groan and shut my eyes to the sound of her giggle.

The next day, Declan and I head back to the cottage to pack up some of my clothes, before returning to the Marriott. He insists on driving me there, even though I know he’s busy with renovations.

"Until I can get a security team down here, I'm not comfortable with you moving around on your own," he says as he drives.

"I don't think a security team is necessary. I'm really okay."

He shakes his head, not budging.

I roll my eyes about how excessive he's being, but secretly, his protectiveness makes me a little hot.

It also relieves me a lot to know someone like Declan is watching out for me.

"I hope that bastard didn't touch my artwork," I murmur, suddenly remembering the few paintings I have stowed away in my closet.

"You have some more art pieces in your house?" Interest suddenly lights up Declan's tone.

"A few."

He muses quietly for a few seconds, then asks, "Have you ever thought about selling any of them?"

I sigh. "Once upon a time. But not anymore."

"Why not?"

I shrug. "I don't really paint enough to make it into a career."

"Why don't you? I thought you loved painting."

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