Page 120 of See You Maybe
“Why not?” Declan ignored the disappointment spiking in his chest.
“Melissa, her receptionist, said Ms. Adler caught that flu going around. She will most likely be out for several days.”
Declan's brows drew down. “She’s so sick Olivia already knows she’ll be out for several days?”
Todd stared at him like he wasn’t sure how to respond. Declan scowled when his assistant shut the door. He rolled his shoulders, hoping to shed the unpleasant feeling inside him. He stared unseeing at an email and twirled his pen between his fingers.
Olivia was sick. And alone.
The urge to check on her was overwhelming, and Declan didn’t question why he didn’t even try to resist.
“I'm not feeling well either.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder as he strode past Todd, slipping into his coat. “Clear my calendar for the next few days. I’ll be available on my cell phone.” Declan paused and turned back. “Find out the best restaurant within ten miles for soup and bread, and place an order for chicken soup. Text me the address.” He would have sworn Todd smiled, but that would have been completely out of character for his assistant.
Pulling into Olivia’s driveway, Declan smiled as he took in the Tudor style home. With a giant container of chicken soup and the still-warm bread in his hands, Declan rang the doorbell with his elbow. A buzzing drew his gaze to his feet where a takeout bag was surrounded by flies. Dread sent an icy trail down his spine. He jabbed her doorbell again.
After several minutes of silence, Declan rang the bell a third time, his pulse picking up speed. Something was wrong. Ears straining, he thought he heard movement from inside the house, but he wasn’t sure. Declan frowned and stepped back, looking up at the facade as if he could see inside. He walked down the steep driveway to peer into the windows set high on her garage door. Concern had his heart pounding when he saw her BMW parked inside.
Is she too sick to come to the door?
The dark clouds above finally delivered on what they’d been promising, but Declan ignored the freezing drizzle. This time, he followed the doorbell with several hard knocks with his fist.
“Go away, Declan, I’m sick,” Olivia’s muffled voice sounded through the door.
“I heard.” Declan hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was making a fool of himself. When he heard she was sick, he wanted to see her. Now, standing on her doorstep uninvited, his hands full of food, he had his first doubts.
“I brought you food.”
“It’s not a good time, Declan.” Something in her voice had his intuition pinging. His eyes fell to the bag of takeout covered in ants at his feet. A knot formed in his stomach. That bag had clearly been sitting there for a while.
“Let me in, Olivia. I won’t stay if you don’t feel well enough. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
The silence stretched, and he scowled at the door. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you sick before. It’s raining, and the bread is getting cold. You aren’t seriously going to risk ruining fresh bread, are you?”
Still nothing. Declan’s concern turned to a full-fledged alarm.
Why wouldn’t she open the door?
“Just open the door. I want proof you’re actually sick and not shirking your responsibilities.” Declan forced a chuckle, but she didn’t answer.
“Open the door,” he demanded in a hard voice, and he swore he heard her sigh through the wood. “Open the fucking door, Petal, or I'm going to kick it down!”
Her security system beeped, and then the deadbolt turned. But when the door swung inward, Olivia swiftly turned away from him to type in the code to rearm the system as he shut the door behind him.
She wore a thick terry-cloth robe, and with her back to him, Olivia waved an arm toward the kitchen visible through the doorway.
“Thank you for the food. You can put it on the island.” Her voice sounded scratchy.
Something was off.
Why wouldn’t she face him? Did Olivia think he cared if she had a red nose and dark circles under her eyes? She could be covered in measles, and Olivia would still be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Declan followed her hunched shoulders the few short steps through the doorway that opened into a spacious kitchen and living area. He took in the space with a glance, and his breath caught.
Massive dark wood beams soared above the twenty-foot great room walls, which were painted a soft, creamy off-white. A deep camel-colored leather sectional faced the enormous fireplace, with a television mounted above the mantel.
Olivia fussed with something on the kitchen counter, and Declan stepped further into the room. There was a thick, knit blanket thrown over one arm of the sofa, and a book lay face down on the small side table. A small, distressed wood table sat in front, displaying a stack of poetry books next to a candle. A wingback chair, placed beside the sofa, was upholstered in a muted floral fabric, and pillows with a matching print were strewn on the floor and over the sofa.
Declan licked his lips. Had she intentionally chosen the pieces to mimic those in the cottage, or had something deeper drawn her to recreate a place where they had been so happy?