I’d always felt loved.
Which was the biggest joke of all. Something I’d figured out way too late for my own good.
“You heard the conversation?” he queried, and I dipped my chin.
“That’s the beauty of having walls made out of paper, I suppose,” I mused, as I strolled into the living room, deciding to get closer to the beast. Closer than I’d come in days.
Call me a chickenshit, or call me busy, but I’d been staying out of his way. Not only so he and Seamus had time together, but also because I…
God.
I didn’t like me around Declan.
It had taken the few hours I’d been with him the day he’d come home from that freaky hospital setup to realize that.
Plus, aside from being honest with myself, I also had a lot of things to deal with. The dean at the art school where I worked wasn’t happy with me quitting without notice, and I felt really shitty considering I’d been helping a lot of students and was leaving them in the lurch.
Even though Amaryllis had gotten me into this mess, she was one of the pupils I was going to miss. Her art? Incredible. Absolutely astonishing.
I saw true talent in her, and while I was supposed to cultivate it in all my students, sometimes, it was easier said than done. Sometimes, the technical ability was there, but the spark? It wasn’t.
I came across a lot of sparkless people, but Amaryllis and a handful of others, like Chloe Downrey, a potter, and James Vance, a sculptor, were three of them.
Then I’d had a few longcalls with my new lawyer over my financial records, and the Feds had demanded I turn over all communications with a couple of people who’d once paid me a lot of money to create something for them.
I was cooperating, because I saw no reason not to.
I’d done nothing wrong…
Of course, I’d tell them where to go if I didn’t have Seamus. Amazing what having a child did to you. Had you turning against your past, your instincts, your smarts, and doing what was right so that it could be a teachable moment.
“You knew he was aware of his great-grandparents’ deaths?”
There was very little love lost between my grandparents and myself. Mostly because I’d grown tired a long time ago of being called a slattern. Still, Seamus was right. They hadn’t deserved to die that way.
“I did.” My lips twisted as I leaned back on my hands. “Seamus knows most things. He has an uncanny way about him.”
“That why you’re here now? When he’s taking a shower?”
“Yes. As eco-conscious as he is, what he finds to do in the shower is usually long enough to make a three-course meal.”
He smiled, even though I knew he didn’t want to. “The joys of the fully functioning penis.”
My nose crinkled. “I’m well aware of how they work.”
“I know you are. I taught you most of what you know,” he rumbled, but I saw the flash of anger in his eyes.
Call me stupid, but I couldn’t stop myself from rising to the challenge. “What about the way I’ve lived my life tells you I’ve been a saint since I left?”
His mouth tightened, but it was a testament, I thought, to how tired he was… he didn’t take the bait. “He’s idealistic.”
“He is. Very. He wants to change things. I’m glad you picked up on that before you broke his heart.”
“Would you have let me?”
“I wouldn’t have leaped into the conversation to save him. Idealism hurts. And the truth hurts even more. But I know, coming from someone like you, with your background, he’d have responded either way.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he rasped, a nerve ticking in his jaw.