Declan came home at twelve seventeen wearing the suit from the photograph.
I knew the exact time because I was still awake on the couch pretending to read.
The front door opened quietly. Cold air moved through the entryway, followed by the soft scrape of his shoes against the mat. He saw me immediately.
“You waited up.”
“Absolutely not.”
His mouth curved.
“Interesting. The lamp turned itself on.”
“I was reading.”
He looked at the book in my hands. It was upside down. I closed it.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
Declan took off his coat. The suit underneath was charcoal, fitted through the shoulders, white shirt open at the throat now that the tie was gone. He looked like every dangerous decision people made after midnight.
I hated how effective expe
