Page 103 of Every Silent Lie

“Yes, yours.” Dec stands up taller, frowning to himself.

“I’m not the one who’s kept her out all night, son.” Mr. Percival comes closer on his walking frame, looking Dec up and down. “So come on then. Speak up.”

“Mr. Percival,” I say, moving in front of Dec, giving the old boy a tight smile. “Do you want me to store your turkey in my freezer?”

He sighs dramatically. “My turkey is perfectly fine where it is.” He reaches for my arm and eases me aside, giving him access to Dec again. “Well?”

I’ve never seen a man look so uncomfortable in my life. “I’d like to date her,” he replies, the words coming out sounding tired and inconvenienced.

“You mean court?”

“Call it whatever you like, Mr. Percival.” Dec motions past him to my door. “Mind if we get on with our day?”

“You’ll respect her?”

Dec flicks his eyes to me, and I shrug. Another sigh. “Yes.”

“You’ll be honest with her?”

“Yes,” he grates.

“You won’t take advantage of her?”

“Too late,” he mutters, and I snort with the effort to keep my laugh in.

“What was that, son?”

“Sure thing, mate,” Dec says, louder. “Are we done?”

“One more thing.” Mr. Percival shuffles his way closer to Dec and leans forward on the tippy toes of his snow boots, and Dec crouches to listen, his brows drawing closer together. Something is whispered. Dec nods. “That’ll be all.” And with that, Mr. Percival turns on his walking frame and hobbles back to his flat, closing the door behind him.

“Huh,” Dec murmurs, shaking his head, then chuckling.

“What did he say?”

He points to the door, prompting me to open it. “A flimsy threat on my life, a promise of retaliation, nothing too drastic.”

“I don’t know where this misplaced duty has come from.”

“I can handle the old man. Anyway, it’s sweet he’s looking out for you.”

I drop my bag by the front door and watch as Dec goes to the kitchen. I follow him, finding him opening the fridge door. I cringe. “What’s that?” he asks.

It doesn’t take me much thinking to figure out what he’s talking about, since it’s the only thing in the fridge. “That’s Mr. Percival’s cake.” I nudge him aside and pull out the plate, uncovering it and cutting myself a slice. “You should try it, it’s quite special.”

“Fruit cake for breakfast?”

And for lunch and dinner. Sugar hits my taste buds like a torpedo as I wrap my lips around the wedge, humming. I actually can’t remember the last time I ate. “It’s not just any fruit cake, Dec. This is Mr. Percival’s fruit cake.”

He rolls his eyes and comes to me, plucking the cake from my hand and popping it on the plate, crowding me. I don’t want him to go. I gaze up at him, screaming it over and over. When his lips straighten, discontented, I wonder if he’s heard me. I swallow my cake, my lips parting, as he slips a hand into my hair and pulls my face toward his, kissing me gently. Every bone disintegrates, my body becoming heavy, my hands reaching for the lapels of his coat and clinging on. His kiss is molten. Forceful without being hard, and I have no choice but to follow the flow of his tongue.

When he breaks away, way too soon, I’m unsteady and disorientated. “I love you,” he says softly, holding my gaze while cupping my face. “Okay?”

I nod, and he pushes his lips to my forehead, breathing steadily as he reinforces his words. No, I don’t want him to go, but those words? I needed to hear them, and I can feel his reluctance to leave me. “Go,” I order softly, as he kisses his way down my nose to my mouth again.

“Okay.” He groans and tears himself away, and I smile as he backs out.

Light. I feel so light. And yet bereft.