Page 100 of Every Silent Lie
“Good.” He smirks. I smirk. He raises his brows, I raise mine. He cocks his head, I cock mine.
He’s teasing me. Making me wait. I’m about to go to him and physically drag him back to bed when the distant ringing of my phone reaches the kitchen. It jars me, if only because I have absolutely no idea who’d call me at this time on a Saturday morning. Dread is quick on the heels of that bewilderment. Mum. It must be the care home about Mum. Urgency powers my muscles as I hop off the stool and hurry out of the kitchen, following the sound of my ringing phone to the hallway. My bag is hanging on the coat stand with my coat. A number greets me. Not the care home.
“Are you okay?” Dec asks from behind me.
“I don’t know who it is,” I reply, staring down at the screen.
“Want to answer it and find out?”
I turn and see his naked shoulder resting on the doorframe. “Dec Ellis has a sense of humour today, huh?”
“My dry wit and comic genius weren’t what attracted you to me in the first place?”
“No, it was your heartbreakingly good looks.”
“I’m not going to break your heart, darling,” He comes to me and drops an easy, casual kiss on my cheek. “I’m going to mend it.” Said with equal casualness, and yet so much confidence, as he wanders off and climbs the stairs. “Take the call, and then take me to bed, baby.”
“Or lose you forever?”
“Nothing will make you lose me.”
My heart. “I love this Dec Ellis,” I say, my smile unstoppably wide.
“He only makes an appearance for you.”
Satisfaction so warm glides through me like melted, velvety chocolate. Smooth and rich. Addictive. Playful Dec. He’s sweet. And very unexpected. Yes, it was his good looks. But that aside, it was his depth that got me. How I could read him without him giving me a word or even any emotion. The stoic, serious businessman everyone in his orbit gets. It makes me wonder how he was with his ex-wife. I pout and rewind. She’s not his ex-wife yet. But neither is Dominic my ex-husband.
I can fix that.
Dec can’t, because he can’t find her. And the questions roll. Who is she, where did she go, and, most of all . . . why?
By the time I’ve finished pondering things that I can’t possibly answer myself, my phone has stopped ringing. So I call the number back, going to the stairs and lowering to the bottom step.
Someone picks up but doesn’t speak. “Hello?” I say, sounding noticeably wary.
“Hello,” they reply.
I frown. “Mr. Percival?”
“Indeed it is. Thank God you’re okay.”
“I saved your number.”
“My mobile number, dear. This is my landline.”
“Do people still have landlines?”
“I used up all of my free minutes on my mobile.”
“The brick.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. What do you want?”
“You didn’t come home last night. I was worried.”
“I stayed at a . . ..friend’s.”
