Page 101 of Every Silent Lie

“Ohhh, I see. A friend’s, eh? Is that what we’re calling him?”

Rolling my eyes, I stand. “Did your electric get fixed?”

“Yes, toasty warm now, dear. This friend . . . I’m trusting he’s trustworthy?”

I smile and frown all at once. “So the turkey’s not in the front garden now?”

“I’m sorry my turkey’s offending you. Now, back to the friend. Is he?—”

“I have to go. I’ll be home later.” I pull up. “Maybe.” Hanging up, I abandon my phone and hurry up the stairs, slowing when I hear Dec talking.

“Well, he wasn’t here to wish me a happy birthday, April.” He sees me in the doorway, and I give him a look of utter disbelief. It’s his birthday? Dec shrugs and lowers to the edge of his bed. “Your steadfast optimism is commendable and a waste of fucking time. The man’s a fully-fledged, self-centred narcissist.” My eyes widen, and Dec frowns down the line. “That’s below the belt. I’m nothing like him.” Feeling like a spare part and an intruder, I turn on my bare feet to head downstairs, but I make it only a few paces before an arm loops round my waist and lifts me from my feet, carrying me back into the bedroom. Dec laughs, the sound cool and sharp. “He doesn’t have a fucking heart, April, so it can’t be dodgy.” He places me on my feet at the end of the bed. “I’ll see you soon. And thanks,” he adds, his genuine show of gratitude softer. “You know I appreciate you guys.” His phone is tossed on the bed, and he tackles me down to the mattress, smothering me and sinking his face into my neck.

I don’t know where to start. His dad’s supposed dodgy heart or his birthday. “You didn’t say it was your birthday.” I smack his bare back, annoyed that he neglected to give me such vital information.

“It’s just another day.”

“No, it’s not. It’s your birthday.”

Groaning, Dec crawls off me and lays front down on the bed, and I clamber to straddle his arse, having to shimmy my dress up to do so. He places his arms under his head and rests his cheek there so I can see his profile as I start tickling his back, grazing my fingers up and down his spine, smiling when his muscles tense and his shoulder blades pinch in the middle. “That’s nice,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

I lean down and get my mouth close to his ear. “Happy birthday.”

He smiles, pushing his face into mine. “Thank you.” Then he shuffles over. “Who was on the phone?”

“Mr. Percival. He was worried about me.”

“That’s sweet.”

“He also asked if you’re trustworthy.”

“Cheeky bastard.”

Falling to his chest, I frame his face with my hands and exhale as I press my mouth to his, feeling his hands sliding up my back, his mouth opening, his tongue meeting mine. “It’s your fortieth.”

“I know.”

“Are you feeling forty?”

“No.” He cups my backside with both palms. “I’m feeling thirty-seven.”

I grin and nibble at his jawline, and he groans and rolls us, trapping me beneath him, taking my mouth.

“It fucking pains me to say this,” he murmurs, taking moments between our kiss to speak. “But I’ve got to go.”

“Nooooo,” I groan, locking my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders.

“April’s done lunch. She’s making a fuss, and I have to pretend I’m grateful. I’d ask you to come, but?—”

What? “No, no, I get it.” I shake my head vehemently. I wouldn’t have met his father if I’d had a choice—pleasant man. His sister? That requires preparation. Women don’t exactly warm to me anymore, and I’m not entirely sure how to fix that. “Besides, it’s a bit early.”

“Is it?”

I recoil, my mind emptying as Dec gazes down at me. “You don’t think it is?”

“Well, I think that things got quite serious last night.”

I don’t know if he’s talking about the pile of confessions I dumped on him of the love thing. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of scrutiny,” I admit, thinking honesty is the best policy.