“Hmmm. Not what it looks like to me, but if you say so. Okay. Say goodbye to Mr. Cannavale for me. Got any big plans for New Year’s?”
“Not really,” I say with a shrug. Another lie. “You?”
She grins. “Huge.” She waggles her eyebrows and waves as she walks away. “See ya.”
I sit back down and finish my beer. My ears are ringing, and this dark ale tastes more bitter than it did a minute ago. When I see the expression on Declan’s face as he returns to the table, I feel guilty for making up that lie. Being around all those Catholics, their guilt has rubbed off on me or something.
“Hi,” I say when he sits down opposite me.
“Hey.”
“I’m sorry I made up that dumb lie. I guess I panicked.”
“Wasn’t dumb at all. It’s what I would have said too. You’re such a good liar. You’d make a good lawyer.” He raises his nearly empty mug. “May all your lies be laced with truth and your truths laced with whiskey.” He twists his lips to the side and shrugs. “Or something a lot cleverer than that.”
I’m about to say what I wanted to say before we started singing, but he slams the mug down on the table, stands, and blurts out, “Should we head to your place? Or maybe I should go home?” There’s that mood again. And here I thought we were done with all that.
“No. Come to my place. I want you to.”
“You sure?”
“You’re coming to my place, Dec. Youvillhave some kutya. And youvilllike it.”
He gets a flash of something in his eyes—horniness, I guess, but I’ll take it. I’ll take it day-by-day with him, and we’ll see where that leads us. Even if it leads to disappointment or worse by January first. At least we’ll have tonight.
Thirty
Declan
DO YOU FEAR WHAT I FEAR?
This has been the best post-Christmas hangover I’ve ever had. I’ve always thought of the hazy period between the 26th and 30th of December as the taint of the holiday season. It ain’t Christmas and it ain’t New Year’s Eve. But Maddie Cooper has found the sweet spot, gently massaged it, and stimulated it to the point where I now think of it as the exciting climax.
I can’t seem to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, though. I had thought that seeing Brady and Hannah together and finally forgiving them was enough. I thought being truly happy with someone for once in my life was enough. I’m still a fucking badass alpha and all, but if I’m this happy with this woman, it might just kill me if she leaves me. And I’m the idiot who created this weird situation to begin with. This is what they call a fool’s paradise. I’m not the kind of guy who’s comfortable being the fool, but I’m not ready to leave here yet and I don’t regret getting us here either.
It seemed like the only logical thing to do at the time. Or maybe logic never really came into play. Regardless, I don’t want to lose her as an assistant, and I don’t want to lose her as a girlfriend. I want all of it to be real, and I want all of it to last. I just need to show her that things can go back to the way they were between us at work when we’re still involved outside the office. I’ll talk to Shapiro and HR as soon as the holidays are over if that’s what she wants.
It’s what I want.
We’ve been spending entire days and nights at each other’s apartments since the 26th, and she somehow managed to convince me to stay away from the office all that time. Running into the receptionist put a damper on our spirits for maybe ten minutes. I didn’t love that Maddie’s go-to response was to lie, but I get it. We decided not to take any more chances, and we’ve been in our own little world since then. We haven’t killed each other yet, so I’m optimistic.
She went home to change clothes after breakfast at my place today, and I convinced her to join me at the office because I have a shit-ton of calls and emails to return and half a shit-ton of contracts to go over. She wanted to drive to Sentinel separately so she can leave to visit her sister at some point. So I’m on my way there, and I’ve already let two assholes cut in front of me because I’m in such a good mood.
Another car in another lane is signaling, and you know what—I’m gonna let him in ahead of me too. I slow down and gesture for him to go ahead. The car behind me honks, and I don’t even flip him off. That’s how good I feel about the world right now. So good that I decide to accept a call from Brady on my personal phone. Even though I know he’s probably with my cousins right now because they flew into Cleveland yesterday, and they’ve all been drunk texting me since last night. I put him on speaker phone and answer with: “You got a hangover or are you still drunk?”
“Haaa! I knew you’dansahif I used yourbruthah’sphone. ’Sup, Manhattan?” It’s my cousin Billy O’Sullivan from Boston.
“’Sup, Billy Boy. You steal Brady’s phone?”
“Nah, he left it chargin’ in thecah. He’s out there pickin’ up some kinda weddin’whatevahfor Hannah around town. Givin’ us a ride back to the hotel. We all had breakfasttogethahat yourmutha’s. You gettin’ in today or what?”
“I’ll get in tomorrow afternoon for the bachelor thing. I’ve got work to do. I’m on my way to the office right now.”
“Aww, come on! You think you’rebettahthan us? Bang out and get your assovahheah, ya fuckin’ skeezah. Eddie’s not comin’ in tilltamorrah eithah. It’s just us and these married guys. I hear you got a girlfriend now—whatahya, pussy-whipped?”
I hear a guy in the background say, “Lemme talk to that fecker.” It’s Nolan, my other single cousin, from Ireland. He’ll play the good cop with me now, but he’s the one who’s never satisfied until all of his American relatives have alcohol poisoning. “Declan! How ya getting on? Thanks fer replying to my texts, ya gobshite.”
“I definitely responded to one of them.”