The Wrong Wife by Maya Alden

Chapter 23

Esme

We fell into a pattern in the next few months. We worked out in the morning together and swam. He was a better swimmer than me. He didn't rush to work in the morning anymore to avoid me, so we had breakfast together, which Calliope made.

For dinner, if he was home, we'd either go out or I'd cook something. On weekends, when he wasn't traveling, he cooked, and we'd talk, watch a movie, or sit together in the living room reading. I suspected he was avoiding social events because Viv called me to ask what was happening, as Declan wasn't returning her calls or going to the places where he usually hung out. She'd assumed that I had done something.

I met Declan's poker friends and even joined them in what they called charity poker. Whoever won the pot would give it to a charity of their choosing.

Mateo had softened towards me, and soon became a friend who came by with food or a bottle of wine when Declan was traveling. Raya, their head of security, kept her distance from me—she seemed like an introvert who took time to warm up to people. Daisy was a delight who immediately brought me into her circle, insisting that I join her book club. Mark and Maria had come to the penthouse for dinner and had become friends with Declan. In a few months, I'd gotten settled both professionally and personally.

Declan had kept his promise and not insisted I join him for this gala or that party. I knew he'd been to a few without me—I'd seen pictures of him in the media, usually with Mateo or his mother, a couple of times, Viv had been with him. I'd not asked him about it. I waited for him to invite me to come with him, but he hadn't, and I was too afraid of rejection to pursue it.

We had become roommates. Not intimate but friendly. Not invasive but companionable.

My vibrator was getting a workout almost every night because I was falling for this Declan despite my best intentions. He was funny, fun, and charming. He was engaging and engaged. He knew how to laugh at himself.

He'd not brought up sex with me again. There had been that one time when I'd walked into his bedroom to hand him his ringing phone that he'd forgotten in the kitchen and caught him naked. I'd averted my eyes, but not before I got an eyeful. That powerful naked body was designed for romance novel book covers and sin.

There had been another time when I thought I was alone in the gym and had dropped my sweaty clothes on the floor as I headed into the shower. He'd walked in then and, unlike me, did not avert his eyes. He didn't say anything, but his gaze had darkened, and I'd wished he'd joined me in the shower, which he didn't.

Work was consuming more and more of my time and energy. I was coming home later as the caseload kept increasing, and we were only two clinical social workers at Safe Harbor. The budget wouldn't permit a third.

I was dragging my tired ass home at nearly ten in the evening when I saw Declan sitting at the dining table, working on his laptop, a glass of wine next to him.

"You're back." I felt such relief that he was home. He'd been gone for nearly a week to London for a conference and meetings.

He smiled at me. "And looks like while I've been away, you've been burning the midnight oil."

"Both ends of the candle," I admitted and sat beside him on a dining chair. I picked up his glass of wine and sipped. "Nice."

"Should I pour you one?"

"Yes, please."

I watched him bring me a glass. He wore gray sweatpants that hugged his hips and a snow-white T-shirt hung loose on his muscled torso. He was barefoot and smelled of cologne. His hair was damp. He must have just taken a shower. I inhaled him when he set my glass in front of me.

"You look exhausted," he said. "And I'm the one who just flew back from London an hour ago."

"Everything hurts," I confessed, closing my eyes, and leaning back on the chair, my wine glass in hand.

I didn't hear him move but felt his hands on my shoulders. He kneaded gently, and I moaned as he found a knot and broke it into submission.

"Oh, that's nice." I set my wine glass on the table and decided to enjoy the impromptu massage. He slipped his hands under my white peasant blouse and squeezed my shoulders. How could an act so innocuous as relieving pain be so sensual?

"Are you eating properly? Calliope mentioned when I called that you were skipping too many meals."

"Calliope is a snitch."

"Anything to report in the week I was gone?"

"No."

He always asked—and what he wanted to know about was my family. He'd taken me under his protection, it appeared, and it was frustrating my family. Viv thought I was fucking him—but then she also told me he'd never be interested in someone who looked like me. Make up your mind, woman.

Viv was also convinced that she could get Declan back and had told me in no uncertain terms that he still loved her and would forgive her. He was angry and deserved some time off. Declan shared nothing about Viv with me. He talked about his work and asked me about mine.

When my paper got published in a peer-reviewed journal, he made a big deal out of it, taking me out for dinner, making sure I got tulips. He made me feel special—and as someone who’d never experienced this before, it made the barriers I had half-heartedly put around my heart crumble.

"How was your trip?" I asked, wanting to change the topic. What was the point of telling him about the phone calls or the one visit from my father?

"You know I know who comes to our home, right? Even when I'm not around."

I stiffened.

"Relax," he whispered, his mouth close to my ear. He kissed my cheek. "Don't lie to me, Esme."

I sighed. "Then why do you ask?"

"Because I'm waiting for the day you kick that asshole of a father out of our home."

He'd started calling his apartment our home, which thrilled me each time he said it. And, yet this was all temporary, I valiantly reminded myself.

"He's my father, and that's not quite my style."

His hands moved to my lower back, and I winced. "Too hard?"

"No. I was climbing a ladder and slipped. I think I twisted something."

"Okay, let's go to bed."

I spun around. "What?"

His eyes were amused. "So, I can give you a proper massage."

"You know how?"

"I'm an expert. You have to be when you play soccer. And I played a lot of soccer in my misspent youth."