Nikita’s brows furrow. “No. He’s quiet. I never know when he’s home or gone. We don’t exactly get along either. We’re like…” She trails off.
“Oil and water?” I offer.
“Yes.” She nods.
“I don’t know, you two seem to be getting along just fine tonight,” Autumn says lightly.
A blush starts to creep up Nikita’s neck. “He’s just being nice. He feels responsible because you invited me as his date. He made sure to tell me to be on my best behavior. I also do not believe he felt comfortable with you giving me your child.”
Interesting. She has no idea. All night, I’ve watched Declan watch Nikita. Hell, he hasn’t left her side until now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s a dick because of who she is but still.
Autumn hums. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Nikita shakes her head. “I don’t understand…”
“You will,” Autumn says confidently.
Almost like she knows something we don’t.
Hell, she probably does.
* * *
The guys followme onto the rooftop deck. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and hit a button, turning on the lights.
“Nice,” Declan mutters.
“You should see it in the summer,” Kenji tells him.
I look around, trying to see it from his perspective. All around, there are lights strung up that Cleo and I can operate from our phones. There’s an outdoor fireplace with more seating than we need surrounding it. Although I guess it’s coming in handy right now.
The gardens are dead and covered for the winter, and the trees are leafless. Honestly, right now it’s nothing to write home about.
“Make yourselves comfortable.” I wave toward the seating as I approach the fireplace.
While they sit, I start the fireplace and get a fire going. It’s fucking cold this time of year, but between the fire and the whiskey, we’ll be fine.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought cigars for all of us,” Callum says.
I move to a chair and sit down. “That sounds great.”
Declan fills the whiskey glasses that Kenji and he carried up and passes them around.
“Thank you,” I mutter to Kenji.
“Of course,” he says quietly.
Callum passes out the cigars, and we light them.
Callum removes the cigar from his mouth and raises his glass. “To another bloody year.”
“To another bloody year,” we murmur back before we all fall silent.
Without the girls, we aren’t forced to chitchat. We can just be.
“Be honest, on a scale of one to ten, how awkward was that dinner for everyone?” Callum asks.
“I’ve been to worse.” Declan shrugs.
