Page 16 of Every Silent Lie
“Will you?”
“Probably.” I lose myself in my drink, wondering what I’m doing. Or what I’m saying. Managing his expectations? Managing mine? “So tell me why you’re here early.”
“Tell me why you are.”
My shoulders drop a little. “Do you always answer questions with questions?”
“Why are you asking questions that you know the answer to? You know why I’m here. I know why you’re here. What neither of us know is why we’re here ourselves.”
“You’ve asked yourself that?”
“Have you?”
I shake my head, smiling down at my lap. “A million times.”
“Me too.”
“And you don’t know?”
“I know you’re beautiful. That can’t be missed.”
“I know you’re handsome.” That definitely can’t be missed.
“But I see many beautiful women. None of them have drawn me in like you, and it’s really messing with my head, because there’s an aura of graveness floating around you like a warning beacon.” He watches for my reaction. He doesn’t get one. “You won’t let anyone in,” he goes on. “You’re a wounded animal ready to attack anyone who dares to try and get close.”
“You dared.”
“And I really don’t want to live to regret it,” he whispers, his eyes scanning every tiny bit of my face. “But I don’t want to regret not getting too close too.”
I still for a moment, soaking in his statement, before I lower my glass to the bar. Our knees have somehow got close again, the gap between them a hair’s breadth. I don’t make space again. It’s pointless. He doesn’t want to live with regrets. I have so many regrets, they’ve buried my soul. And yet endless questions run amok in my mind, but I can’t ask any of them.
“Tell me about your day,” Dec says, killing that topic of conversation.
“It was standard.”
“What’s standard?”
“Me buried under endless files and in endless emails trying to make what seems like the impossible, possible.”
He nods, as if understanding. “Everything is possible.”
That’s not true. Happiness is impossible. “Tell me about yours.”
“I worked from home, hence the casual attire.” He motions down his jumper and jeans.
“Acquiring and merging,” I murmur. “But mostly acquiring.”
“That’s right.”
“And what did you acquire today?”
“A failing media company that’s fallen on the modern-day online sword.” His lips move with a slow purpose as he talks, his eye contact unwavering.
“And what will you do with it?”
“Sell it.”
“You’ve bought it to sell it?”
