“I’m sorry that things are still so weird between the two of you. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
I didn’t. I still don’t.
I peer into the dark hall now and make out a person in Declan’s doorway, speaking rapidly in hushed tones. I step back quickly, aware that if they turn just slightly, they’ll see me eavesdropping, backlit from my bedroom light, which I quietly turn off.
I brace myself against the doorframe, attempting to make out any words through the whispers.
“They don’t know.” Declan’s once familiar Irish brogue floats over to me, strong and certain. “I’ve told you. It was ten years ago, and no one even suspected back then.”
“Shh,” the other voice comes again. Still too quiet to make out an accent or gender, nothing to give any indication who it might be. “I just need you to promise that you’ll keep this between us.”
I crane my neck, but I can’t make out Declan’s response. Instead, I hear the soft padding of footsteps heading towards me.
Quickly, I pull the bedroom door shut, my heart hammering against my chest.
They don’t know… No one even suspected.
Questions flood my brain, but I know one thing for certain.
I’m not the only one here with a secret.
8
Claire
Now
“Good morning.”
His voice is soft and sleepy, and for a moment, I anticipate the feel of his arms around me, his palms on my stomach, pulling me into a tight embrace just like he used to do when we would wake up entwined on one of our small twin beds.
But this time, there’s nothing but the brush of air as Declan walks past the stool I’m perched on in front of Kyan’s massive granite kitchen island.
“Good morning,” I say as he pours himself coffee.
“How’d you sleep?” Declan asks, turning around and leaning against the counter. His ease stings the back of my eyes, as if all of this is normal. The two of us waking up in the same house, sharing a cup of coffee in the kitchen before starting our day.
What might have been if we hadn’t ruined everything.
“Pretty good.” I hesitate, preparing myself to ask a question I haven’t quite formulated yet. One that would resolve all the thoughts that have been floating around in my head the last hour, since I heard Declan and the mystery person whispering.
It was ten years ago, and no one even suspected.
It shouldn’t be surprising that Declan’s been keeping a secret from me. We’ve barely spoken in a decade, our communication relegated to messages in the group chat (none of which directly responded to the other, of course) and social media stalking (on my end at least). But even so, his secret still comes as a betrayal.
But before I can begin to articulate any of the questions I have for him, I’m interrupted.
“Ah, God, I would marry that bed if I could.” Ellery’s upbeat voice cuts through the kitchen. She stops and gives me a hug on her way to the coffeemaker, apparently oblivious to the awkward silence in the kitchen.
When she turns around, her cheerful tone and smile are gone.
“So, are you guys ready?”
***
Two hours later, the five of us are squeezed into Kyan’s Tesla Model S, weaving through the narrow hills. He whips around the turns, accelerating whenever a straight stretch of road makes it possible, making my unsettled stomach even queasier.
None of us have spoken since getting into the car. The atmosphere in the house this morning was tense to say the least. No onewas particularly talkative, Kyan least of all. Hari apparently never showed last night, something that Kyan assured us repeatedly was “normal,” but which seemed to have lodged a permanent crease between his eyes.
