Chapter 2 Rosie #2
She pushed it down by her feet without argument. “I messaged Becky and all I got back was emojis.”
“She’s probably battling mayhem at the airport.” Declan was loading the last of the bags into the back seat. He’d planned it with mathematical precision. Large suitcases first. Soft bags. Fragile gifts. Bottles of champagne. Everything fitted.
Everything except them.
Rosie felt her eyes sting. If she’d been more analytical in her approach to decision making maybe she would have decided it was sensible for them to take more time to get to know each other instead of rushing into marriage, but she wasn’t analytical.
The decisions she made were instinctive.
How does this make me feel? She didn’t make lists of pros and cons.
She relied on her emotions to guide her, and most of the time she felt like a passenger, riding those emotions wherever they went. Happy, sad, ecstatic, terrified.
But Declan was nothing like that. He thought things through carefully, just as Becky did.
He was a planner. She was the impulsive, spontaneous one.
She was the one who’d said let’s go to Paris on only their second weekend together (they’d stayed at a cute hotel on the Left Bank and it had been fabulous), she was the one who’d said let’s move in together just two months later, and she was the one who had proposed to him in a burst of spontaneity one winter evening when they’d been walking along the river on their way back from an evening exploring a Christmas market.
It had been snowing, lights had been shimmering on the surface of the river and he’d stopped to kiss her, and it had been such a perfect moment that she’d wanted to hold on to those feelings forever.
She’d known that she would never, ever feel happier than she’d felt in that moment.
She’d shocked herself by proposing (like most of the things that came out of her mouth, it hadn’t been planned) and she’d shocked him too.
For a moment he’d stood there, his gaze fixed on hers as if he was searching for something, ignoring the snow that was drifting down and settling on them.
She’d held her breath and waited for him to say he needed to think about it and then he’d smiled and said yes.
In fact she thought maybe he’d said yes a couple of times, but by then he’d been kissing her again and everything had been a bit blurry.
She was the one who had suggested a small wedding at home in February.
It was only now that she realised she’d driven all of it.
She’d been the engine in their relationship.
Right from the beginning, she’d had her foot pressed to the accelerator.
What would have happened if she hadn’t suggested Paris, or moving in together, or getting married?
Where would they be now? Would he have hit the brakes?
She felt a shaft of guilt and something close to panic.
Had this whole thing been a terrible mistake? Was he regretting it?
She badly wanted to talk to her sister, but even if Becky had been more available, would she really have talked to her about this? Her marriage? It felt disloyal somehow. And complicated because it was Becky who had introduced her to Declan. They were good friends.
“Becky doesn’t usually send emojis. She’s not really an emoji person.”
He sighed and his gaze flickered to hers. “You’ll be seeing her in a few hours so you can ask her then. I’m sure you can survive that long without talking to your sister.” There was an edge to his tone and it cut into those soft, tender feelings that she wore far too close to the surface.
“Can we talk about this? I know you’re still upset about last week.”
“I’m freezing, Rosie. I can’t feel my fingers. It’s not a great time for conversation.” He gave the last box a big shove, forcing it behind the seat. “What is in all these boxes and cases?”
“Mostly gifts. Christmas is a big deal in my family, I’ve told you that.
” And this was going to be his first year with them.
Last year they’d spent Christmas separately.
After her spontaneous proposal she’d gone home as always, and he’d gone skiing with friends, a trip that had been planned before they’d even met each other.
She’d been looking forward to this moment for months, which made the current disharmony all the more upsetting.
“And clothes, obviously. I need warm layers for the beach and something pretty for my brother’s party, whatever that is. And then there’s Christmas Day.”
“How many pairs of shoes and boots did you bring?”
Seven pairs. Five pairs of shoes and two pairs of boots, not counting her hiking boots, but with the atmosphere so tense she didn’t want to admit that. “The bare minimum. I was selective.”
He tried to close the car door but it kept jamming against the bags. He cursed softly, put all his weight on it and finally the door closed.
He flung his coat into the back, settled into the driver’s seat and blew on his hands to warm them.
“Why did it have to snow?” He peered at the street, rapidly disappearing under a thick coat of white. “Bad timing.”
Snow at Christmas—bad?
Normally she would have said it was perfect timing, but right now she was too stressed.
She stared at his profile, trying to read him. “I know you’re upset. We have to talk. We can’t go home for Christmas with this atmosphere hanging over us.”
He said nothing but he put his hands on the wheel and she saw his knuckles whiten.
“Declan—”
“Yes. I’m upset. What did you expect?” He sounded tired.
“It was my company Christmas party, Rosie. Everyone was there, with partners. Everyone except you. It was awkward.” He turned to look at her and it was obvious from the shadows under his eyes that his night had been as bad as hers. “People kept asking where you were.”
Guilt made her defensive. “I don’t believe that. I doubt they even noticed I wasn’t there.”
“They noticed. I had to say you were sick.”
“Why would you tell them I was sick?”
“Because I couldn’t exactly tell them that you didn’t want to spend an evening with them, could I?”
She’d had no idea he’d be this upset about it.
Her heart was pounding. She hadn’t realised he’d want her there. She genuinely hadn’t thought he’d care.
“But they don’t like me, Declan! When I joined you all for a drink last month none of them spoke to me. And it was the same the time before that.”
“That isn’t true.”
“It is true. They ignored me. And so did you. You all talked about some obscure computer programming thing all evening and I didn’t understand a word of it and certainly wasn’t able to contribute, so I sat there like a lemon all night.
” And she’d felt stupid. Out of her depth.
Miserably self-conscious. She’d imagined them all wondering what someone as brilliant as Declan was doing with someone like her.
Even her clothing had been wrong, she’d known that the moment she’d walked into the room.
She’d worn a sparkly mini dress and she’d felt pretty until she’d seen that they were all wearing jeans and hoodies.
There had been a horrible moment where they’d all stared at her speechless, and then Declan had ushered her to an empty seat at the table and the moment had passed.
But the humiliation of that evening had stayed with her, which was why she’d had no desire to put herself through it again.
Declan ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve all worked together a long time. We’re comfortable with each other. That’s all it was. It wasn’t about you.”
“But I was there! I was there and they didn’t include me. You didn’t include me. I felt like some—some— appendage . Everyone was wondering why you and I were even together.”
“You’re imagining it.”
“Declan, I am not imagining it. One of them actually said to me ‘you’re not Declan’s usual type.’”
He frowned. “Who said that?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to forget the whole evening frankly.”
“Probably Harry. Harry Fitch. He tends to say what he’s thinking. No filter.” He rubbed his fingers across his forehead. “I’m sorry if we got carried away—we’ve been working on this new project at work which is actually very exciting, and—”
“I know. It’s all you talk and think about.
” And she hated the fact that she didn’t understand a word of it.
He’d tried explaining it to her. He’d even used a pen and paper and drawn a diagram.
But it had made no sense to her. Sometimes she wished she was more like Becky.
Becky would have been able to join in. Becky spoke their language.
He glanced at her. “You could have tried harder too?”
It was so unfair she felt her eyes smart. “How? I don’t understand what you do, Declan. I don’t know enough about computer engineering to be able to join in your conversation. And maybe that makes me stupid—”
“You’re not stupid.” He frowned. “I have never said, or thought, that you were stupid.”
“Well, I felt stupid. And maybe I wouldn’t have felt that way if just one of the people in that group could have asked me something about myself.
About what I liked. Although that probably wouldn’t have helped because I’m guessing that ‘I make costumes for the ballet’ isn’t a great conversation starter in your world.
” It took skill to do what she did, she reminded herself.
Real skill. Just not a skill that any of his colleagues would appreciate if the look they’d given her dress was anything to go by.
He took a deep breath. “We need to stop this. We’re not getting anywhere.”
“We started it because you wanted to know why I didn’t go to your Christmas party. And I’m telling you why. My confidence couldn’t survive it. I didn’t want to spend another humiliating evening standing by myself in the corner like some wallflower feeling bad about myself.”
“This is all in your imagination, Rosie.”
“No, it really isn’t.”