Not that I blame him. I’m in it for my selfish reasons too. To get a baby.
You can’t replace her, a voice in my head says, and I quickly shut it down.
The vibe in Santa Monica is vastly different from LA. There’s an idyllic mood, which reminds me of a vacation spot. What a nice place to live in, I muse as I stroll toward Main Street. I consult my phone once for directions and see that I’m on the right track.
I see Did you say Pizza? from a few stores down. The colors are vibrant, and there’s more activity than in other stores as people go in and out. I subconsciously quicken my step.
The interior is wonderfully cool, and I pause for a few seconds to admire the décor. I stand in a line, and when my turn comes, I settle for a small-sized house-style pizza.
Chapter 10
Declan
“I’ll get that,” I say and hand Luke, the cashier, a twenty-dollar bill.
Marian whirls around, and for a moment, I’m drowned by her large expressive eyes. I rouse myself and plant a kiss on her lips.
“Declan,” Luke says, jolting me back to the present.
I pocket the change, take Marian’s hand, and lead her to a table away from the noise. Usually, I love the sounds of children shrieking in the play area and the hum of conversation, but today, I want to concentrate on Marian. I hoped that she would come, and now that she’s here, I have to remind myself that she’s the same woman who left me in her house all alone. Okay, I sound like a wimp, but she did.
“It’s good to see you,” I tell her.
Her gaze bounces around the restaurant. “This is a lot bigger than I imagined.”
The fact that she’s impressed pleases me. “Thank you,” I say.
She swings her glance back to me. She looks so beautiful with her hair parted at the center and held back in a ponytail. Stunning. That’s the only word that aptly describes Marian.
“Were you planning on getting in touch any time soon,” she says coolly. “Or you already got what you wanted from this marriage?”
My anger flares up. “You’re one to talk. You left me a note like I was an escort.”
Her cheeks color, confirming that it had been a deliberate move. Maybe to put me in my place. The fake husband place.
“I had to go to work,” she says, but that’s just what it sounds like—an excuse.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say to her. “Because we need to set some ground rules if this is to work.”
“Why do you care?” she asks. “I imagine your money is already on its way to your bank account.”
She’s not wrong. “Because I always keep my end of the deal.”
A vulnerable, almost sad expression comes into her emerald green eyes, and my chest squeezes. Protective feelings come over me.
“That’s good to know,” she says, her voice shaky.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, deeply disturbed by the sudden change in her.
She plasters a smile on her face. A smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong.” She’s lying. “So, what ground rules do you want to talk about?”
One of the servers brings Marian’s pizza and water. Marian smiles and thanks to her. “I can’t wait to dig into this. I missed lunch.”
“Is that something you do a lot?” I ask her.
Despite being curvy, she’s a bit on the slim side, but from my research, Lilly Love Wedding Planner is one of the biggest outfits in LA, and I reckon she’s very busy. Still, she needs to eat some more.
“I do, and I keep promising myself not to do that,” she says as she opens the box and makes appreciative noises. “I love the smell of freshly baked pizza.”
I watch as she opens her gorgeous mouth and takes the first bite. She closes her eyes, and as she chews, I wonder how it would feel to have her lips wrapped around my cock.
“That’s the most delicious pizza I’ve ever tasted, and I’m not just saying that because … well because you’re my husband.”
I chuckle. “I know. We make the best pizzas.”
“Humble not,” she says.
“It’s a fact, not a boast,” I tell her and reach across and swipe my thumb across her lower lip.
“What?”
“A bit of sauce,” I tell her, fighting the urge to touch her soft lips again.
“You were saying something about ground rules,” Marian says, and it takes a moment to remember what it was that I wanted to say.
It doesn’t seem important now, but I wrack my brain for it anyway. “Yes, I was. Respect. We have to respect each other, and that means communicating.”
“Okay,” she says. “Maybe we can start by exchanging numbers?”
We both laugh, and the earlier tension is broken.
“It’s very busy here,” Marian says, and for the next few minutes, we talk business. “Have you figured out the new location?”
“Ace told me about this bakery that’s shutting down on Second Street. He said he’d research it and get back to me. I’ve also put the word out to real estate agents. I’m sure something will come up.”
“That’s awesome and so exciting,” she says.
“So, do you want to see my place? We can even pass by Park and Rachael’s office. I’d like you to meet them.” I feel like a teenager rather than a grown-ass man.
“Who are Parker and Rachael?” Marian asks, an amused look on her face.
“My best friends. They’re more like family. We all grew up together here in Santa Monica.”
“Do your parents live here?” she says.
I answer and promptly change the topic. I don’t want to have to explain why it’s not a good idea to meet them just yet. I tell Marian about Park and Rachael and their little girl Kacy, another sweetheart who is just about
