16. Declan
16
DECLAN
I spent most of Monday in Dublin putting out one fire after another at work. When Sinead called for her nightly call with Catie, I was still on the road, a good twenty minutes from home.
“I can send you Olivia’s number,” I told Sinead. “She’ll put you on with Catie, if you’re in a rush.”
“Why would I be in a rush? It’s rehab. There’s nothing to do ,” Sinead complained.
I laughed. “You can put that on the comment card when you leave. ‘Sure, they helped me with the addiction thing, but at what cost?’”
Sinead snickered. “See, that’s why I missed you. All the Americans here are too fucking serious.”
Outside, the countryside flew past as I drove. At this time of the day, with the sun setting, everything looked lush and gorgeous. Like home. “You could move back, you know. No serious Americans here.”
Sinead made a noncommittal sound and deftly changed the subject. “Speaking of which. How’s your American working out for you?”
It took me a moment to realize she meant Olivia. “She’s good. Catie likes her. She knows things about taking care of kids I never would have thought of.” Honesty made me add, “We had a bit of a rough go at first, but I apologized, and now we’re all grand.”
Sinead gasped loudly and theatrically. “ You apologized? Declan.” She lowered her voice to a mock-whisper. “Do you like her?”
I rolled my shoulders. “ No . I… I mean, it wouldn’t be professional if I did. So. No.”
I could practically hear Sinead’s delighted smile through the phone. “Oh my God. You have the hots for the nanny,” she teased, full of bratty-little-sister glee. In spite of myself, I was actually glad to hear it. She sounded like herself again. “Could you be any more of a cliché?”
I groaned. “It’s not that. I mean, yes, she’s fit. But it’s more…” I searched for the right words. I didn’t know how to explain it. “It’s just her. She’s brave, and she’s stubborn, and she’s got this smile…”
“Oh,” Sinead said, and this time there was no laughter in her voice. “This is real.”
“I don’t do real ,” I protested.
“Maybe you should,” Sinead said.
I made the same noncommittal sound she’d made when I suggested she move back to Ireland. We Byrnes were excellent at avoiding emotional conversations.
But it occurred to me this was an area of my sister’s life I didn’t know much about.
“Have you ever had something real?” I asked. “With, I don’t know, a bloke in the States?” Was a bad relationship the thing that had tipped her over into alcoholism?
“What, like falling in love and all that? No,” Sinead said. “It’s not exactly easy to date around as a single mum.”
I felt a twinge of guilt, for all the little ways her life was harder than mine.
Sinead’s voice softened, turning reflective. “I think the closest I’ve ever come to love was with Catie’s dad. But we were both so young. I knew he wasn’t ready to be a parent.”
I blinked, surprised. When she’d first gotten pregnant, Mum and I had pleaded with her to tell us who the father was, but she’d refused to answer. Eventually, we’d come to the conclusion that he was a one-night stand, and she was embarrassed to admit it. But if she’d had feelings for him, that mattered.
“Are you ever going to tell me who he was?” I asked.
“Wait, is that what this is about?” Sinead asked defensively. “Did you bring up relationships so you could pry into my past? I won’t have your judgment, Declan.”
“I’m not judging you,” I protested.
“You’re always judging me,” Sinead shot back.
“I just don’t understand you,” I said, frustrated.
“Maybe it would be better if you give me your nanny’s number,” Sinead said. “I should talk to my kid.”
I bit back my frustration, sent her the number, and ended the call.
Sinead and I had fought plenty as kids. We both had big emotions, and while we loved each other, the ways we picked to show it didn’t always mesh. I tried to show my love by looking out for her, taking care of things for her—but it never seemed to work out the way that I hoped. But she’d also known that I always had her back. And there had been good days too, when a rare mood would strike her, and she’d decide we were going on some kind of adventure, whether that meant going down to the shop for crisps and candy bars or a day at Salthill.
I saw that side of her in Catie. That impulse to seize the day and do something marvelous.
So why couldn’t Sinead and I manage a proper adult relationship? I didn’t want to bicker like children. I wanted to help .
Why didn’t she trust me?
“ K nock knock,” Olivia said cheerfully as she knocked on the door to my office. I didn’t particularly feel like working right now, but I had to catch up on emails, and it was better than thinking about my inability to have a functional relationship with my sister.
“Just wanted to say Catie’s down for the night,” Olivia continued. “I’m glad you thought to give Sinead my number, in case you have to work late again.”
I grunted in acknowledgment.
“Okay, then,” she said. “If you don’t want to talk about anything, I’ll just turn in for the night…”
“Grand,” I said, without taking my eyes off the screen.
Olivia turned and left.
Two minutes later she returned. “Nope, I can’t do it. I can’t leave you all grumpy and alone. You are in such a bad mood. Did something happen at work?”
“Work is fine,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Olivia insisted, hands on her hips. “If it’s not work, is it your family? Is Sinead okay?”
“She’s fine,” I said. “She’s just Sinead. She’s got it in her head she can’t trust me, and if I ask an innocent question, I’m apparently trying to judge her past choices in men, which, let’s face it, were pretty atrocious. So if I was judging her, it would be absolutely warranted.”
Olivia raised an eyebrow.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m bloody fine . I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Olivia said. “We don’t have to talk about it. Is there something I can do to distract you instead?”
My mind flew to all sorts of dirty, delicious things Olivia could do to distract me.
I cleared my throat and looked away. “That’s kind of you, but it’s not your job to manage my emotions.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to do something nice for you, you idiot, because you were nice to me when I needed it. Why are you making it so hard?”
Because I’m not used to having someone who wants to make me feel better. Because you’re unpardonably lovely. Because I want to be at my best around you. The reasons immediately ran through my mind. I couldn’t say any of them out loud.
“I suppose I am,” I admitted grudgingly.
That earned a smile from Olivia. “Let’s make this simple. Want to watch a sappy movie with me and make fun of it?”
“You strike me as the type of woman who likes sappy movies.”
“I do, but we’re cheering you up, not me. And I know how much you like mocking sincere emotion.” She waved a hand at my face. “Especially when you’re all grumbly like that.”
I conceded her point.
“So,” Olivia said, leaning forward with an air of contagious mischief, “what’s the sappiest, corniest, most ridiculous movie you know?”
I thought about it.
And then I grinned.
Ten minutes later we were downstairs in front of the telly, watching The Deer and the Warrior .
Olivia frowned in concentration as she watched a man with flowing locks and an equally flowing medieval-style shirt stride down the stairs of a Victorian mansion covered in deeply old-fashioned woven tapestries. “What time period is this supposed to be in?”
“They were all set to film in a local castle, until the roof caved in and brained the original lead,” I explained. “After that, they prioritized functioning roofs over period accuracy.”
Oliva gaped at me. “You’re making that up.”
I grinned. Olivia had probably grown up on Hollywood movies that more or less made sense. She wasn’t prepared for the glorious camp classic she was about to witness.
Olivia fell silent as she watched. “I don’t get how this is a romance. He’s just going deer hunting.”
Onscreen, Fionn drew the string of his bow back, ready to slay the skittish doe onscreen, when his second-in-command stopped him and explained that obviously the doe was really a woman under a curse.
“Wait… That’s our heroine?” Olivia asked, outraged. “She’s not even human!”
“It’s a classic for a reason. Heroines are better when they can’t talk back to you,” I said.
Olivia hit me on the head with a pillow. I laughed, catching her wrists before she could strike again. Olivia’s eyes sparked and she bit back a smile as she tried to free herself from my grip so she could take another swing. The effort made her face flush, and I found my eyes dropping down to her mouth, to the way her breasts heaved under her tank top with her panting breaths.
I had the sudden urge to press her back into the pillows and kiss her like I’d been wanting to, for longer than I wanted to admit.
Olivia’s lips parted.
She’s probably about to ask what the hell you’re thinking, my rational self-reminded me.
I released her abruptly and focused on the movie.
At least I tried to focus on the movie. But at the same time, I was aware of every movement Olivia made. Every time she laughed or gasped or tucked her hair behind her ears. When she repositioned herself and ended up scooting closer to me on the couch, I caught a whiff of that lavender scent she always smelled like.
Was it soap? Perfume?
I imagined her dabbing perfume on her wrists and neck, one tiny bit of femininity before she spent her days chasing after a rambunctious child. I imagined her soaping herself off at the end of a long day, in a hot shower, using her own delicate scented soap instead of whatever my housekeeper stocked.
Fuck. I shifted, trying not to get hard. Trying to hide it if I failed.
“Wait, why is she turning into a human now?” Olivia asked.
“Because they’re on Fionn’s land now. Her curse breaks when he brings her into his home.”
Olivia tilted her head. “That’s kind of lovely.”
“Sinead likes that part too,” I said. “Actually, she likes this whole movie. I don’t know why.”
Olivia sent me a knowing look. “Is that why you picked it tonight?”
I didn’t answer that.
We watched as the heroine introduced herself as Lady Sadhbh. Fionn instructed his people to care for her. Sadhbh met Fionn’s sister, and the two became fast friends.
“The sister’s not in the original legend,” I pointed out.
“I’m guessing the 70s folk-rock music isn’t either,” Olivia said.
“No, that part’s original,” I joked, but it felt hollow. Olivia hadn’t pressed me to keep talking about Sinead, and I felt oddly disappointed. A part of me wanted to talk about her now, I realized. Maybe because it was easier to talk about important things when we were both staring at a dumb movie, instead of each other.
“I don’t know who Catie’s father is,” I admitted. “I always assumed Sinead didn’t know, or at least that he was someone she barely knew and that was why she never tried to get him involved. But today she admitted she was basically in love with the fucker. And yet, she won’t tell me who he is because she thinks I’ll judge her.”
“And that hurts you,” Olivia said quietly, understanding.
“No,” I protested. Then I relented. “Maybe a little.”
Olivia reached over and slipped her hand in mine. “Just do your best to keep showing up for her, and give her time. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.” She gave my hand a brief squeeze, and then let it go.
I fought the urge to reach for her.
Onscreen, the movie had moved on to the sequence where Fionn courted Sadhbh. So far he’d picked a wild rose for her, sang a throaty folk song, and hit a man who insulted her. “Do women really find this romantic?” I asked, mostly because I needed to change the topic to something light and easy.
“It’s not the things he’s doing so much as the way he’s doing them,” Olivia said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You see the way he looks at her, like she’s the best thing in the world? And the way he holds on to her until the last possible second, like he doesn’t want to let her go?” She made a show of fanning herself. It was kind of cute.
I grinned. “Is that what you’re waiting for? Some guy to moon over you and hold your hand?”
Olivia snorted. “In real life, guys aren’t waiting to fall in love with you. And when they are, it gets creepy fast. That’s why I love movies.”
I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of Olivia doubting that any man would be lucky to have her. And I definitely didn’t like the idea of some guy making her uncomfortable or ruining romance for her.
“It sounds like there’s a story there,” I prompted.
Olivia made a face. “It’s not a big deal. Just a bad experience with a guy on a dating app.”
Everything in me went still. “Olivia. What do you mean by ‘bad experience?’”
If some bastard hurt her…
“It started off fine. We matched on the app, went on a few dates, et cetera. But when we were getting to know each other online, I mentioned this silly blog I ran on Snug. So then he created an anonymous profile and used it to get to know me online, pretending to be a random reader.” Olivia pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, protecting herself as she told the story. “He didn’t tell me until we’d been dating for like a month.”
“What a creep,” I said.
“Right? I think he thought it would be romantic or something. Two people who keep crossing each other’s paths until they fall in love. But in real life it just felt…invasive. Like he was spying on me or manipulating me.” She wiggled her shoulders like she was shaking off a bad memory. “Anyway. I dumped him and blocked him online. And after that, I kept my blog and my real life separate.” She cocked her head at me. “What about you? Are you waiting for some grand romance? The perfect woman?”
But I wasn’t ready to let her brush off what had happened to her. “What’s the creep’s name? Do you have his contact info?”
“Why?” Olivia asked.
“I’m going to ban him from Snug,” I said, dead serious.
“It wasn’t that bad,” she protested. “Men are creepy on the internet all the time. You can’t ban them all.”
“Yes, I fucking can,” I said.
Olivia smiled. “Aww. You want to do the cyber equivalent of punching the guy who insulted my honor.” She turned back to the movie. Her smile softened. “You’ve got more ‘hero’ in you than you think.”
That was bullshit.
But I pulled out my phone and shot Anil a text, reminding us both that we should review Snug’s policies about cyber harassment, and see if there were any areas where we could improve.
“So what was your blog about?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Fan fiction about your favorite TV show? Nannying tips? An expose on every dumb boss you worked for?”
Olivia laughed, and it slid through my veins like whiskey.
“Actually,” Olivia joked, “it was fan fiction for The Deer and the Warrior . I’m actually obsessed with this movie. It’s why I took this nannying job. I’m hunting for an Irishman who will promise to save me from evil wizards. It’s a highly specific fetish.”
“In that case…” I smirked, deepening my voice and thickening my accent as I looked deeply into Olivia’s eyes, and recited one of the movie’s most famous lines. “‘Lass, I canna ignore the call of battle. But tonight, we dance. So be kind to your man and give me one last taste of what I’d die to protect.’”
At first, neither of us could keep a straight face. But as I got to the last line, the words didn’t feel quite as ridiculous as they should. If Olivia kissed me by an ancient bonfire and sent me into battle to protect her, I was beginning to think I’d go.
Olivia’s eyes darkened, and I felt my own pulse pick up in response.
Wait, was she really into this?
Because I had this whole fucking movie memorized.
Abruptly, Olivia scooted away and turned back to the screen. The color was high in her cheeks. “I forgot to say. Molly invited me on a double date this week. Is there any night where you’d be okay with me leaving work early?”
Her words felt like a cold bucket of water. She didn’t want me to kiss her. She wanted my permission to go out with another man.
I felt like swearing or kicking something. She was tangling me up in my own emotions—and the worst part was that she had no idea what she was doing.
“Pick any night,” I said gruffly. “I’ll make it work.”
I hated the idea of her going out with another man. But unlike Fionn, I didn’t have a right to my jealousy. This wasn’t a love story, and Olivia wasn’t my woman.
She was just my nanny. And she was casually turning my world inside out.