Chapter 15: My Own Bedroom

On Wednesday night Posy slept at the boat loft.

It was Daddy's turn for a sleepover, and she had packed her rabbit and three crayons.

The house was very quiet without her.

I went up at ten, shut my own bedroom door, and lay in the dark with my burned arm on top of the quilt.

At midnight, headlights crossed the ceiling.

They stopped at the end of the street and stayed.

I went to the window in my T-shirt.

A gray sedan sat under the dead streetlamp with its engine off and a man's shape behind the wheel.

I knew that car.

I had seen it twice on Water Street since Sunday.

Someone knocked, very softly, on the front door.

I took the stairs in the dark and opened it with the chain on.

Declan stood on the porch in his wet coat.

"There's a man parked at the corner," he said. "He's been on your street since ten."

"He was outside the bait shop first," Declan said. "I walked here the long way, and he followed with his lights off."

"Margaret's."

"Yes."

"Then why are you on my porch?"

"Because he's watching you now, and I didn't want him to be the only man who knew where you were."

His jaw worked.

"I'll sit on the steps," he said. "I won't come in. I'll go when he does."

It was forty degrees and raining sideways.

I took the chain off.

"Sofa," I said. "Downstairs. That's the whole offer."

"Understood."

I gave him a blanket and a towel and went back up.

I lay on top of the quilt and listened to him not sleeping.

The house ticked.

At one, I heard the sofa creak, and the kitchen tap run, and the sofa creak again.

At half past, I sat up.

I thought about what I'd said in the bakery, with my face on fire and Dot's flour on the floor.

My bedroom. Mine.

I had said it to protect myself from exactly this.

I went downstairs barefoot.

He was sitting at the kitchen table in his undershirt, with the towel around his neck.

His shoes were by the door, and he was looking at the window.

He turned his head.

Whatever he saw in my face made him stand.

"Steph."

"Don't say anything clever."

"I wasn't going to."

"I'm not asking for a promise. I'm not asking for six months or the rest of it."

My voice shook and I let it.

"I want you," I said. "I've wanted you every minute all week, and I'm tired of lying to the ceiling about it."

Keep reading free with an account. Start When He Finally Found Her, She Was Already Married from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.