Declan:No work today.
No work today?!I read his message twice to make sure my brain isn’t acting up again and rearranging all the letters.
I clutch my phone to my chest and do a little twirl. The idea of having a Saturday all to myself makes me want to break out into a whole song and dance like a Dreamland princess. I swear I could touch the stars with how high I feel right now.
While I shower, I comb through the memories of last night. Leo and his toast. Declan and I dancing until midnight. Him carrying me around like a sack of potatoes because my feet hurt.
The last one makes me smile to myself like a complete loon.
Oh, Iris. What have you gotten yourself into?
I try to come up with answers as I make my way downstairs for breakfast, yet I can’t seem to find one. I’m not sure what is going on. The marriage I signed up for is nothing compared to the reality. Declan wasn’t supposed to be nice. He sure as hell wasn’t supposed to do all these different things that stir up a longing in my chest I’ve never felt before. Even during my most serious relationship, I didn’t feel anything close to the giddiness that overtakes me when Declan does something completely out of character.
I try to block out the thoughts by blasting music through my earbuds. It seems to work temporarily, and I dance my way into the kitchen while singing along at the top of my lungs.
What I find has me halting my steps. One of my earbuds pops out, the blaring music barely audible over the sound of Declan chopping vegetables.
Excitement is fast replaced by skittishness as Declan glances up at me with eyes full of heat. What did I do to earnthatkind of look?
“You’re here,” I reply after what feels like a whole minute of us staring at each other.
“I am.” He turns back to the cutting board and resumes chopping vegetables.
“You’re taking the day off too?”
Chop. Chop. Chop.“Not exactly.”
“Oh.” A heavy sigh escapes me.
“I planned a fake date for us.”
I blink. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you planned afakedate?”
His lips twitch. “I did.”
“Wow. That’s…unexpected.”
“We need to be out the door in the next hour.”
I cock my air gun and pretend to take aim. “Who’s the target?”
His lips press together. “I’ll tell you after.”
“Why not before?”
“I want you to act natural.”
All right…“And you telling me who we’re trying to impress could compromise that?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. They must be pretty important if they inspired you to plan something.”
His hand grasping the knife tightens. “I’m capable of planning a date.”
“Sure, you’re capable, but that doesn’t mean you actually want to.”
“Who says I don’t?” His question is far too loaded for me to handle without coffee.