Page 40 of Downfall

I look to Allie for help, but she averts her eyes, pretending to check the fish, for what I have no idea.

“You know the whole story, don’t you?” I ask.

“I told you. I can be very…persuasive.” She sets her knife down and turns to Emory. “They used the new online marriage system and got someone from the paper to officiate. Sky was wasted and thought there was an extra page at the end before the final confirmation button, but there wasn’t. Boom. Married.”

I almost laugh at Allie’s succinct summary of events. Emory’s eyes crinkle, her lips angling in amusement, which she tries to hide with her hand. “I’m so sorry, Sky. It’s not⁠—”

“Funny?” Allie offers. “It’s a little comical, you have to admit it.”

Groaning, I bury my face in my hands. “God, this is so embarrassing. How could I have let this happen?”

Emory’s soft hand grazes the back of my hair. “If it makes you feel any better, I was standing outside in my Valentine’s underwear when Luke first moved in next door to us.” She shoots an accusatory look at Allie. “Because someone has zero chill. Anyway, I fell and he had to help me up.”

I snort just picturing that exchange, but then the laugh fades into a sigh. “That’s actually really sweet.”

Emory’s eyes gleam. “In retrospect, it kind of was.” She moves her hand down to rub my back. “What is your heart telling you to do, Sky?”

Whatever it’s telling me, I should do the exact opposite. My heart, treacherous thing as it is, got me into this mess with Declan in the first place, but I don’t say that. Instead I shake my head, sighing as I look at the other members of Allie’s kitchen staff with envy. They’re prepping for the next service, completing their tasks with laser focus, presumably not thinking about tattooed men who like to break hearts.

I need something else to focus on.

“Anyone got a cigarette?” I ask, remembering the burn from the other night, the way it soothed away the sting of regret, if only for a moment.

Allie and Emory exchange a nervous look.

I wave my hand in the air. “Relax, I don’t smoke. Well, not when I’m sober, anyway. I just thought it might help with the stress.”

Emory lays a soft hand on my back.“As a nurse, I am obligated to tell you that there are healthier ways to relieve stress.”

“Like what?”

They exchange another look, this one more nefarious.

“Oh my God, I mean besides sex. Why does everything have to be about sex?”

You didn’t seem to mind last night, the voice in my head says, and it has a suspicious masculine rasp to it.

“I read,” Emory offers. “Luke and I actually started buddy reading. Of course, I read for the plot. He reads to…” She clears her throat. “Get ideas.”

Allie snorts. “Bitch, you do not read for the plot.”

Emory brings an offended hand to her chest before she cocks her head in thought. “Okay, partially for the plot.”

“Look,” Allie says, pointing a spatula at me. Having moved on from the fish, she's now mixing together some kind of sauce. “Before I had my own personal orgasm machine,” I grimace because Ash is like a brother to me, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care. “I used to bake whenever I was stressed.”

Emory looks longingly at the ceiling. “Those were the days. The cookies, the muffins. Oh my God, the scones. Remember the ones with that cinnamon frosting?”

Allie freezes, pepper grinder mid-turn. “Okay, you are a hundred percent pregnant.”

I let them go back and forth a bit. Honestly, I find their banter comforting. I was an only child, so I welcome the domesticity of it all. They’re still arguing when I see dark hair and tattooed arms out of the corner of my eye. My heart gets all fluttery before I remember that Declan’s hair is blonde now.

Julian walks around the corner, dressed in all black, a backpack slung high on his shoulder. He walks behind Allie and makes eye contact with me, pressing a finger to his lips. I give him a slight nod, remembering that he didn’t want Allie to know he’d been bartending last night.

She must sense something because she turns her head. “Oh, thank God. I have five pounds of halibut that need to be portioned.”

“Yes, chef. I’m on it,” he says to her, throwing me a wink once her back is turned.

I should be embarrassed. Julian saw all my skeletons laid out on the bar in front of him last night, but somehow I can’t find it in myself to care.