Just Friends(52)

Declan is silent, and the moment I decide to look at him, I know it’s a mistake.

His eyes are deep pools, and I’ve jumped in. I feel the panic of my feet not reaching the ground.

“I get that.”

His words land in my chest with a satisfying click like clock hands overlapping at midnight. He practically spent his entire life working for a career he never got to achieve. He never planned on staying in Seabrook, and yet, here he was. He probably understood what I was feeling in this moment better than I understood how I was feeling. Our eyes hold for another beat, and I can see him contemplating something. I see the moment something shifts, and he decides to speak.

“Is it okay for me to admit that I’m really glad you’re back?” he says in a voice so low it rumbles.

My body buzzes, taking note of his shoulder an inch from mine. My eyes frantically search his face, looking desperately for a clue as to why he would say that. But all they find is anguish, written in the lines by his eyes as they search mine pleadingly, waiting for my response. My mouth goes dry.

“Can I admit something, too?” I say so quietly he has to lean in.

He nods infinitesimally for me to go on, but I bite my lip, not ready for how the air would change if I said what I wanted to.

“You can say it, Blair. I probably deserve it,” he urges. The last part is so soft, I think I’ve imagined it.

“I—” I exhale, frustrated before I’ve even begun. “I think part of me wants to stay. Just not if—”

“Hi! Hi!” A shrill, high-pitched voice calls as the front door swings open.

Declan stands up slowly, putting room between our bodies on the couch like we weren’t just veering toward territory we’ve avoided for years.

“Oopsies! Already unlocked,” she says with a laugh, wiggling the key out of the door. Her blond hair reaches the top of her skirt as she walks through the living room, one stiletto-heeled foot at a time.

At once, I am very grateful that I asked Declan to be here. My mind can’t think clearly through the fog of ancient desire and grief coursing through my body.

She struts up to us at the couch, hair swishing back and forth, texting furiously with long, neon yellow manicured fingers.

“I’m Emily!” she says, mouth parting into a grin as she shakes Declan’s hand.

“Declan. Nice to meet you.” He gives her a closed-mouth smile. It accentuates his dimple. “And this is Blair. The one this home actually belongs to.”

I give her a distracted nod.

“Oh! Perfect. Well, nice to meet you guys. Since I can see that you’ve already taken a look around, I’m assuming this meeting is because you’re ready to put it on the market?”

Put it on the market? The words were a concept I’d heard before, but I couldn’t process that the question was being directed at me. My mind was still muddied by the shock of her death and the existence of this house. How was I supposed to decide like it was a game of rock, paper, scissors? Wasn’t there a rule about not making big decisions for six months after a life change?

Declan takes notice of the panic on my face and jumps in to respond.

“Actually, Blair is interested in exploring her options before making a decision.” His tone is kind but firm. It’s the same tone he uses when he’s delegating tasks to the employees at the coffee shop. And even through my panic, I find watching him take the reins of the situation without being domineering attractive. Definitely not what I’m supposed to be contemplating right now, I chastise myself.

“Oh, okay!” She stops texting. “Well, for a property like this, you could have a nice nest egg for yourself.” She looks me up and down. “Especially for someone so young.”

Funny. She didn’t look at Declan like he was so young.

“We’re looking at about six hundred seventy-eight square feet. Tiny, but walking distance to the ocean in this part of town…” She flips through something on her phone. “You’re probably looking at about one point two,” she finishes, looking up at Declan.

One point two? As in a hundred twenty thousand dollars? That would be more than a nice nest egg, that could be enough to—

“Million,” Declan clarifies, looking at me.

“MILLION?” I blurt, forgetting myself and the fact that Emily is staring at us.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” She manages to look like someone rolling their eyes without actually doing the motion before walking to the kitchen to continue texting.

“M-million? Are you messing with me?” I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop the onslaught of nervous rambling I feel making its way up my chest.

Declan seems to be fighting a smile.

“Why are you laughing? Are you being serious?” I plead.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing.” He’s literally laughing. “It’s just, I thought you knew that.”

I stare at him, stupefied.

It feels like I’m living in one of those fantasy books where a sixteen-year-old girl is told she just became queen of an entire kingdom because her father died.

“Obviously I didn’t know that, Declan! I just graduated college, and my mother and I lived rent-free in Lottie’s house our entire lives. How was I supposed to know this tiny cottage was worth over a million dollars!?” I’m trying to whisper-yell so as to not further reveal how ignorant I am to Emily, who is hitting her phone screen so vehemently, I’m shocked her nails aren’t chipped.