Page 109 of Maid For Each Other
Declan
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” I said, looking at Roman like I had no idea what he was talking about when I knew a thousand percent what he was referring to. I picked up my beer and played stupid. “Am I not eating fast enough for you?”
“Don’t pretend to be obtuse, asshole,” he said, shaking his head. “We both know I’m not talking about the food.”
“If you have something you want to say, just say it,” I said, glancing over at the wall of TVs and regretting my decision to meet him at the sports bar for the Chiefs game. I wasn’t in the mood to talk.
Or watch football.
Or drink any more than I’d already been drinking lately.
“Well, for starters, you’ve spent the last month working in Omaha.”
“So?”
“So that’s not normal behavior for you,” he said, jamming a handful of fries into his mouth. “And every time I ask you about portfolio selections, you tell me to make the call.”
“So now it’s bad that I trust your judgment?” I said, raising my empty glass when Carol, our waitress, walked by. “Should I not let you make the call? Do you need me to help you form your opinions?”
I knew I was being an asshole, but I was in a bad mood.
I had been for weeks.
“I need you to act like a grown-up, not a pouty, lovesick piece of shit.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are,” he said, grabbing the ketchup and squirting it all over his plate. “You’ve been a colossal dickhead since Abi disappeared from your life. And I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
“God save me from this bullshit,” I said, wishing he’d drop it. “This has nothing to do with her.”
“Really? Are you seriously going to deny it to my face?” He scowled. “At least be honest.”
“Iambeing honest,” I said.
“No, you’re not,” he said, badgering me like he was my therapist. “Try again.”
“Why don’t you fuck off and tell me what it isyouthink is going on, jackass?”
“I will, thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for this opportunity. “I think you guys were pretending and it became more. Your little project ended and you miss her but you’re too much of a Declan Powell to swallow your pride and go to her and tell her how you feel. So you’re miserable.”
“Shows how much you know,” I said, pissed because he was making me think of her when I’d been doing a great job all day of not picturing her face. “You might be right about the feelings part, but Abi is the one who wants nothing to do with this. She walked away with her intentions very fucking clear.”
“What does that mean?”
I couldn’t mention the story because it still made me sick. The idea that she’d seen me that way, or had been inspired enough by me to write such an insipid character, was far too depressing for me to put into words.
So I only mentioned the other shitty part.
“It means she didn’t take the money, okay?”
The day after our last encounter at my place, I came home and saw it next to the bed.
The check for $40,000.
The necklace from the jewelry event.
