Page 111 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

For some reason, I felt like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, even though that was ridiculous, since this was exactly what was supposed to happen. Pushing down that feeling, I stood taller and straightened my shoulders and handed him the papers.

“I was going to messenger these to you, but since you’re here, I can just give them to you.”

He didn’t take the documents from me. Instead, he just looked down at them.

My hand was still outstretched as I explained, “They’re the divorce papers.”

His eyes lifted to mine. “You signed them?”

I saw hurt in his deep, chocolate stare. Hurt and abandonment. But that was totally unfair. I hadn’t done anything wrong. This was the deal. This was what we’d agreed to. I wasn’t the bad guy here.

“I just figured it was better to get it done. That is if everything went smoothly with Harry this morning.”

He exhaled as he confirmed, “It did.”

“Great!” I enthused as my stomach plummeted. It dropped out from under me. I wasn’t sure what I’d been hoping for; maybe subconsciously, I’d been hoping that the business hadn’t been signed over to him, so he needed more time. Whatever it was, hearing that everything had gone to plan knocked the wind right out of me.

“That’s great. Really great!” I forced myself to smile, even as I felt myself well up with emotion. “Well, then, um, if you just want to sign these and have someone file them, then I guess that’s it.” Tears began to swell in my eyes, so it was time to wrap this up. “Thanks for stopping by. I’m actually just grabbing a few things and heading out, but congratulations on the business and Merry Christmas.”

I didn’t wait for Declan’s response. I couldn’t. I barely got the door shut before tears began to pour down my face. This time, I definitely felt my emotions while crying. I was feeling all of them. I’d just divorced a sexy, honest, generous, hard-working billionaire who my niece adored and who I was in love with on Christmas Day. I wished more than anything I could get a visitfrom the ghost of Christmas yet to come, because I’d really like to know I didn’t just make the biggest mistake of my life. Right now, it sort of felt like I had.

42

DECLAN

As I satin the SUV in front of Gran’s house, I was tempted to get in the plane and fly back to Atlanta. When I landed an hour ago, I drove straight to Ashley’s. I hadn’t gone into the house at all. So as of right now, Gran didn’t know I was in Firefly unless she’d looked outside and seen the plane in the hangar.

My plan had been to go talk to Ashley and then, if everything went well, bring her back with me to celebrate Christmas with everyone together. Clearly, things did not go to plan.

I glanced to my right at the divorce papers Ashley handed me. They were sitting on the seat like an ominous passenger of failure. She wanted to dissolve our marriage effective immediately. I shouldn’t be surprised. This was what we’d agreed to. She’d lived up to her end of things. I was the one who wanted to renegotiate terms. I would have fought for exactly that, but the problem was I wasn’t sure I could give her what she wanted.

Was I capable of the sort of marriage she deserved?

She wanted love.

Love.

Why was it so hard for me to say that word to her? Why couldn’t I promise to love her?

I grabbed the papers and got out of the car. On my way up the steps to the house, I looked over and saw Bonnie in the pen with Craig. He was taking her through some exercises. Clyde was in the stable, stretching his neck out as far as he could over the gate so he could catch glimpses of her as she rounded one of the corners. All my life, I’d been around horses, but I’d never seen one so in love like Clyde was with Bonnie.

What did he know that I didn’t?

When I walked inside, the first thing that struck me was the house was uncharacteristically quiet. I checked the kitchen and didn’t see Dorothy or Fred. Gran wasn’t in the library or sunroom. It wasn’t until I walked into my grandfather’s study that I found her.

Gran was seated behind the large mahogany desk.

“Where is everyone?”

“Fred and Dorothy went to a movie.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“Clearly not. Have you heard from your brother?”

“No, I haven’t.” He’d checked himself out of the rehab I checked him into—surprise, surprise. He posted a story from Cabo on Instagram, but I hadn’t been in touch with him, and I couldn’t say I cared. If he wanted to spend his life fucking off, then it was fine by me as long as he left the business out of it.

She peered up at me over her black wire-rimmed glasses. “Where’s Ashley?”

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