Page 64 of Every Silent Lie
And now you’re here to take me away. “That’s not the half of it,” I go on, and Dec’s head tilts in question. “It was Christmas Jumper Day.”
He looks down my front, to my requisite black dress. “I can see you didn’t take part.”
“I did, actually. But wish I hadn’t.”
“Why?”
“It was all a bit of a rush,” I explain. “I dipped into a store this morning and grabbed the first jumper I found.” I lean down and pull the offending object from my bag, then place it on Dec’s lap. He puts his drink down and lifts it, and the words on the back glow, an encore of mortification creeping back up on me.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asks.
“The back.”
His face appears as he lowers the jumper, the most beautiful frown creasing his brow. He turns it around, and a few seconds silence linger. I cringe as Dec lowers the stupid jumper. “You’re the CFO of TF Shipping, and you wore this jumper to work?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, I did that.”
“You didn’t realise?”
I give him a tired look, like do I look like the kind of woman who would wear a jumper insinuating I’m a whore, whether playful or not? I wince to myself.
“All day?” he asks.
“Until my assistant kindly informed me why everyone had been laughing at me since I stepped off the elevator this morning.”
And my wish comes true.
He laughs, the sound so rich and natural, and the sight is quite possibly one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. And I know in this moment, without question . . .
Fucking hell, I’m falling.
“My God, Camryn.” Dec dumps the jumper on the bar and drops to his feet, gathering me up from my stool and pulling me into his chest, hugging me so hard, his body jerking from his persistent chuckles.
I’m a big girl. I don’t need him to hug me to ease my embarrassment, but I’ll take it. Every day, I’ll take one of these hugs. Every bit of me melts into his chest, my arms circling his back, clinging to him. The warmth inside intensifies. I’ve missed hugs. Deep, enfolding, and warm. Like my mum’s.
Like . . .
“A woman of your stature should be far more organised in order to avoid such fuck-ups.”
I smile as Dec pulls back, looking down at me, those eyes of his hypnotising. I know my gaze is begging him to kiss me again, whisk me away, drown me in something special and unforgettable.
Make me want him more.
Recognition stares back at me. He knows what I want, but does Dec know how much I need it?
He does. I know he does.
But he doesn’t kiss me.
Because there’s more between us than anything sexual.
Moving his hands to my hips, he lifts me with ease and sits me back on the stool. “How’s your mum?” he asks, taking his seat, reclaiming his drink.
How I’d like to say she’s okay. I scramble for the courage to talk about Mum, to open up and show him—and myself—that I can do this. Baby steps. And Mum is the first baby step. “It was too long before we put the small things together and realised there was a problem.” He’s looking at me so closely, silently assessing my state of mind.
“We?”
“My dad, brother, and I.”
