Page 22

We reached the kitchen.

Megan stepped through the doorway. “Surprise.”

Declan looked up. And smiled.

Not much.

Declan never did anything much.

But he smiled. At her. Something hot and awful twisted under my ribs. There it was. Proof.

The smile wasn't gone.

It just wasn't mine anymore.

Megan crossed the room and kissed him.

Right on the mouth. Not a long kiss. Not obscene.

Somehow that made it worse.

Easy. Familiar. Normal. Her hand rested briefly against his chest. He didn't flinch.

I looked down. That was the part that got me.

Not the kiss. Her hand. She touched him.

And Declan let her.

Less than twenty minutes ago he'd recoiled from my fingers like I'd burned him.

For me it was don’t touch me.

I became intensely interested in a spot on the kitchen floor.

“Well,” Marion said, coming in from the dining room.

Megan stepped away from Declan. “Hi, Mrs. Bishop.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Marion glanced at the bakery box. “You brought dessert?”

“I did. I hope that's okay.”

“You bring food into this house, you're always welcome.”

“Speak for yourself,” Clayton called from outside.

Marion raised her voice. “I did. It’s my house.”

I smiled. It hurt.

Megan set the box on the counter. Declan said something quietly to her.

I didn't hear it. I didn't want to. The tone and cadence sounded intimate enough.

I went back to the broccoli. Very important broccoli. Life-or-death broccoli.

Someone touched my elbow. I nearly jumped.