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I answer the phone, swinging my legs off the couch. “Hi!”
“Sophie,” Declan says, by way of a greeting. There’s something about the sound of my name in his mouth that has me biting my lip, even though we’re talking over the phone.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, of course. All fine.” A brief pause, and then he adds, “I’ve finished with my meeting. Will you come over?”
“Oh!” I grin. “Okay! Um, sure. Let me just—I’ll call an Uber, and—”
“No need for that,” Declan says smoothly. “I’ve sent a car to pick you up.”
A flush creeps over my cheeks, and I glance over at Reagan. I don’t know how much she can hear, but she’s definitely listening intently, hanging on every word.
“A-a car,” I stammer, and Reagan’s eyes bulge out of her head. “Right, of course. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
“Can’t wait to see you,” he says, and hangs up. I lower the phone from my ear.
“Sorry to cut things short,” I tell Reagan, who looks like she’s about to explode from vicarious excitement. “That, uh, that was Declan. He wants me to come over.”
“And he’s sending a car to pick you up?” She whistles, shaking her head. “God, that’s luxury. You’re really living, like, something out of a movie.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Right? It’s crazy!”
And it is. Of course, it is. But I’m also getting used to it—the quiet, convenience-based way that Declan spends his money. He spends to make himself and the people he cares about more comfortable, and I like that.
“Well,” Reagan says, a tiny bit of wistfulness in her voice, “whatever he has planned, I hope you enjoy yourself.” She’s being genuine, but I catch that note of longing and feel a pang of guilt.
“I really am sorry to take off like this,” I tell her. “Next time, I swear, I’m taking you out on the town. Help you take your mind off everything.”
She waves her hand. “Hey, no worries. I totally get it. You’re in a brand-new relationship—you’ve gotta spend some time building things up. Besides, I was planning on calling my mom tonight, and that’s bound to be a long conversation.”
“Friday?”
“Sure thing! Soon as I get off work.”
I flash her a grin, grateful for her understanding. I jump off the couch and head over to grab my coat.
Across the room, Reagan pushes the curtains away from the window, craning her neck to get a look at the street. She looks over at me with a shit-eating grin and an arched eyebrow.
“What?” I ask.
“Your chariot awaits,” she quips, jerking a thumb at the street. “And it looks like you’re riding in style.”
I walk over to the window, leaning to stare down at the street. There’s a car parked by the curb of our building—an almost laughable sight, in our neighborhood. It’s a pitch-black Mercedes with a gleaming hood and tinted windows.
“Classy,” Reagan says. “Very classy.”
“Well,” I reply, “that’s Declan.”
Chapter 40
Declan
Sophie has barely even knocked when I yank the door open and pull her inside.
She yelps in surprise as I pin her against the back of the door, devouring her with hungry kisses along her neck and jaw. She giggles as my lips brush the tender spot beneath her ear.
“Did you miss me, or something?”
