Cara busts out in an adorable, belly jiggling giggle. Charlie looks at her sister and follows suit. “Okay, Mommy. We’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” Cara nearly topples me over with a hug and Charlie, who’s still holding her big sister’s hand, joins us.
“I love you girls. Be good for Daddy.”
“We will, Mommy. Bye.” They run off into the strange house and even though I’m at ease knowing they are okay with my departure, I can’t help feeling a little heartbroken.
Declan lags behind, watching me get back into the car. “What are you doing, Mia? Don’t you miss our family?”
Whoa! Where the hell did this come from? “Excuse me?” I jump to the defensive. Who is he to question me about what I’m doing. What the hell has he been doing for the last two months? I almost wish he’d tell me he’s been seeing someone else. At least then I’d know there was a reason he’s been staying so far away. But the silent treatment, the not knowing, it’s worse than anything else. And there I go jumbling emotions again! Defensive, then heartbroken…will I ever get it straight?
“When is this little game of yours going to be over? Aren’t you tired of pretending to be someone you’re not?”
His questions sound like pleas. But his expression is still empty. Does he care or doesn’t he? Is it because he feels bad for the girls or because he wants me back? I am so angered by the lack of emotion in his once vibrant eyes that I don’t care what he wants right now. He should be fighting for me, begging, pleading to get me back. But instead he just stands there seemingly...annoyed…and that’s not going to cut it.
I slam the driver’s door shut, glaring at him through an open window. “Yeah, I am tired of pretending, Declan. I’m tired of feigning perfection. I thought our family was perfect, until you stopped fighting for us. And now I’m just tired of pretending you give a shit.” My hands grip the steering wheel again. I might need to count to fifty this time to calm down. “The girls are waiting for you, Dec. You should go inside.”
I wait for him to say something, the empty space between us measured by deafening silence. But he doesn’t say anything. He just clenches his jaw, swallowing hard. I can’t read his mind. I won’t make a decision like this based on what I’m thinking he’s thinking. So instead, I throw the car in reverse and leave.
“You okay, Mi? You seem distracted tonight.”
Noah’s taken me to a place called Sharky’s. I’d never been but always heard of the place, an Irish pub known for its endless list of brewed-on-site beers. What I didn’t know is that it’s also our town’s version of The Alibi: open mic night, live bands, things that remind me of Declan. And between our little run-in at his place and the painful reminders of him at this place, I guess you could say I’m pretty distracted.
But I can’t exactly tell him that, so I pretend everything is as perfect as it’s been for the last two months. “Everything’s fine. Just thinking about Charlie. She was a little upset when I left her today.” And her father accused me of playing games, but yeah, I’m fine.
“Oh. I’m sorry. Want me to take you home? It’s not too late. Maybe you can pick them up and bring them home.”
He’s always so sweet. Always putting my needs before his own. Like the fact that he hasn’t once bugged me about not sleeping with him yet. I’ve placated him with other things, and damn if the act of placating isn’t pretty damn enjoyable, but he’s patient and kind and I probably don’t deserve him. And after the shit with Declan tonight—I mean, he isn’t exactly professing his love, so what the hell am I waiting for? Divorce papers?
Yup, that’s exactly what I’m waiting for.
Screw it! “Absolutely not. The kids are fine. I’m fine. Now stop worrying before I give you something to worry about.”
He cocks his head to the side, with that smoldering stare that makes me want to jump his bones right here. “Like what?”
“I’ll put your name on the list for open mic. I’ve always had a fantasy of you singing Sex and Candy.” I’ve had so many fantasies about Noah it’s hard to keep track.
His head snaps back as he laughs so hard a few of the other patrons gawk in our direction. “Well, that’s a first. But I can’t hold a tune to save Ferris. Why don’t you go up there, though?”
“No. Not my thing. I’d rather watch.” I shoot him a playful, devious wink. What am I doing? Is this what Declan meant about pretending to be someone I’m not?