Chapter 17 Rosie
Rosie
D eclan closed the door of their bedroom and stood with his back to it. “You and I need a conversation.”
Rosie swallowed. “I’ve been saying the same thing for days, but this isn’t a good time. People will be arriving soon. We should be getting ready for the party, and—”
“Now, Rosie. We need to talk right now.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed. Never had she found talking about her feelings so difficult. “Fine. What did you want to say?”
He shot her a look of raw incredulity. “Is that a joke? You declare in front of everyone that your sister is in love with me, and then you ask me what we need to talk about?”
She fiddled with the fabric of her dress. “Obviously I was wrong about that. And I’m embarrassed. But it’s good news about Becky and Will, isn’t it? I think they’ll make a great couple.”
“I don’t want to talk about Becky and Will. I want to talk about us.” He spoke in a low voice that wouldn’t carry beyond their bedroom, but his tone was no less forceful for that. “What made you think Becky was in love with me?”
“It didn’t cross my mind until she walked through the door today.
I just had an instinct.” But it turned out that this time at least, her instincts had been wrong.
Which was a huge relief. She’d been feeling dreadful that she’d unwittingly ruined her sister’s life by marrying Declan, but obviously not.
Later, she’d think about how hurt she was that Becky hadn’t told her what was happening with Will, but right now her mind wouldn’t let her think about anything except Declan.
“But why?” He stepped closer to her, bemused. “Why would that thought even cross your mind?”
She wished he would stop talking, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen so she resigned herself to having the conversation they probably should have had a few days ago.
“I suppose because it was something I’d been thinking about,” she mumbled. “The two of you are very well suited.”
“Well suited?” Declan was looking at her as if she was speaking a language he didn’t understand. “Becky? Seriously?”
“Why not?” She felt compelled to defend herself. Maybe she’d been wrong, but there had been a strong foundation for her fears. “The two of you get on really well. You’ve known each other a long time.”
“As colleagues. Friends.”
She shrugged. “Friends is a good starting point for a relationship.” And she realised that even though she’d been wrong about Becky’s feelings, she wasn’t necessarily wrong about Declan’s.
Maybe he had feelings for Becky but they weren’t returned.
“I just—lately I’ve started thinking that maybe you’d be happier with her than you are with me. ”
“ What? Wait—you think I’m in love with your sister?” His voice was hoarse. “Why would you think that?”
Wasn’t it obvious?
“Because she’s everything I’m not.”
He was still staring at her, struggling to absorb what she was saying. “I can’t believe this is what you’ve been thinking. And you didn’t say anything.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “How long?”
“How long, what?”
“How long have you been thinking it?”
“That perhaps you would have preferred to be with Becky? I don’t know.
Since your Christmas event I suppose. Or maybe after that evening you took me to meet your friends.
It occurred to me that Becky would have fitted in perfectly.
She would have understood the conversation.
She would have joined in.” She twisted her wedding ring.
“You and Becky know each other well. I realised the other day that most of what you know about me, and my family, you know from Becky. You stand there and say ‘do you remember when,’ and that isn’t something you ever say to me.
The two of you have this whole history.”
He stood still, stunned into silence. Then he shook his head.
“Because we worked together for five years. You learn a lot about a person when you work side by side with them for that length of time.”
“I know.” She knew it was logical, but it didn’t change the way she felt. “I suppose I’m thinking that Becky is more your type, that’s all.”
“Becky and I have never so much as flirted together.”
“Becky doesn’t really know how to flirt so that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Enough.” His tone was raw and he walked across and tugged her to her feet. “I do not have feelings for your sister. Not those sorts of feelings. I have never had those feelings for your sister. I’m shocked that you would even think it. What have I done to make you think it?”
His eyes were stormy, and he’d dragged his hands through his hair leaving it rumpled and unruly.
She wasn’t used to seeing him show this much emotion and she was mesmerized by it.
He was always calm and level-headed, his emotions steady and restrained, so much so that those occasions when he seemed to struggle with emotional control stood out in her mind.
The night she’d proposed. Their wedding.
And now. The fact that he was definitely struggling for control was an indication of how much he cared.
Something stirred inside her. Finally she didn’t need to ask herself what he was thinking and feeling, because she could see it on his face, and she knew that if he just kissed her right now everything would be fine.
It was what they needed. What they both needed to bridge that distance that had formed between them.
They could be late to the party. There was so much drama erupting in the family she doubted anyone would even notice.
“Rosie?”
She realised she’d lost the thread of the conversation. He’d asked her a question. “Sorry?”
She could see the shadow on his jaw and the thickness of his eyelashes. Underneath his half-buttoned shirt she caught a glimpse of his body, lean and strong. He applied the same disciplined approach to exercise that he demonstrated in every other aspect of his life.
She was painfully aware of him. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to reach out and release the rest of those buttons. She wanted to—
“Rosie?” The change in his voice told her that he was feeling it too.
They probably needed to talk more about Becky. About her insecurities. About her feelings and his, but the level of attraction between them made it a struggle to focus.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. She felt her heart thud harder.
He was going to kiss her. At last he was going to kiss her and everything would be okay.
She felt his hands close over her shoulders, saw the passion blaze in his eyes as she slid her arms around his shoulders.
And then there was a loud knock at the door.
They froze, their mouths so close they were almost touching.
Neither of them moved.
Rosie wanted to ignore the knock. There was no way she was answering the door. No way.
The knock came again and Declan let his hands drop to his sides and turned away, his breathing unsteady.
“You’d better answer that.” He walked to the window, keeping his back to the door.
Engulfed by frustration, Rosie glanced briefly at him and then hurried across the room.
Whichever member of her annoying family was disturbing her at this delicate point in her life, they were about to regret it.
She was going to kill them slowly. No, on second thought, she was going to kill them quickly so that she could get back to what she was doing.
She dragged open the door.
Jamie stood there, looking handsome in a midnight-blue shirt and chinos.
“Sorry to disturb you. Hayley has a dress emergency.”
She felt like telling her brother that thanks to him she had a sexual frustration emergency and that took priority. But this was about Hayley. Hayley, who was already feeling nervous and out of place. Hayley, who was now family. She couldn’t say no to Hayley.
She cleared her throat and tried to focus. “A dress emergency?”
He pulled a face. “Hayley bought a dress for tonight and the hem isn’t straight, or something. I don’t know. This is your area of expertise, not mine. Any chance you could save the day? You’re flushed. Are you feeling okay?”
No, she wasn’t feeling okay. “I’m fine.”
He glanced down at her. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“Because—” Because she was having marriage crisis talks and for a short time she’d actually forgotten about the party. “It takes me a while to get ready, you know that.”
“Well, if you could hurry up and find time to help Hayley, that would be appreciated. She’s worried the dress is all wrong, and before you accuse me of not having paid her enough compliments, I definitely have. I’ve already told her I think she looks great. Apparently that’s not enough.”
Because Hayley was on edge. Hayley was overthinking everything.
As someone who had turned overthinking into an art form, Rosie had nothing but sympathy.
“Of course.” She forced a smile. “This is her evening after all. I’ll be there right away. I’ll sort her out and then get dressed myself. Just let me grab my emergency repair kit.”
She walked across her bedroom, conscious of Declan watching her. The tension between them was so thick she was surprised her brother didn’t sense it but he appeared clueless to the atmosphere in the room.
Instead he gave Declan a sheepish smile. “Sorry to steal her away.”
Declan managed a brief nod. “No problem.”
If Rosie hadn’t known better she might have thought he was in pain.
She picked up her repair kit and paused. “This won’t take me more than a few minutes, I’m sure.”
“Take your time.” His tone was rough. “I’ll use the shower.”
Clearly he was as frustrated as she was.
“Right.” She wanted to say something else but she couldn’t with her brother standing there, so she followed him out of the room and focused on Hayley’s dress.
It took her less than twenty minutes to assess the problem and fix it, but by the time she walked back into their bedroom braced to finish the conversation the room was empty.
There was a note on her pillow.
Your dad needed me to move furniture so that people can dance. I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready.
She turned it over in case he’d scribbled something on the back but there was nothing.
No I love you . No I’ll meet you up here later.
Nothing.
She scrunched up the note and threw it in the bin.
She was expected to get through the evening without finishing what they’d started. Had their conversation fixed things? She didn’t know, and she hated unresolved conflict. Hated it, and they’d already been at odds for days.
And now she was expected to smile through a whole evening and celebrate romance. What an irony.
She grabbed her dress and slid it on. She wished now that she’d chosen something less eye-catching.
Black or navy maybe, not petal pink even though she knew she looked good in petal pink.
She’d fallen in love with the fabric and designed the dress herself, but now she was worried it was too girly.
It was the sort of dress that would have made Declan’s friends stare at her with their mouths agape and normally she wouldn’t have thought about it, but she was thinking of it now.
She checked her reflection in the mirror and sighed. She did love the dress. It was gorgeous. It fitted perfectly and the colour alone lifted her mood. The truth was she didn’t want to wear black or navy. Black made her feel gloomy. She wanted to wear this sparkly pink dress.
This was who she was. This was the woman Declan had dated and then married.
Whether he was regretting that decision, she still had no idea.