20. Declan
20
DECLAN
C atie gasped when she saw the inside of the fridge the next morning. “Can I have dessert for breakfast too?”
“You cannot,” I grumbled. “It’s Magic night , not Magic morning. Eat something healthy. Like spinach.”
Over at the table, Olivia grinned into her tea. “How’d you sleep, Declan?” she asked innocently.
I speared her with a look. “I slept like a man who’d been…interrupted,” I finished, mindful of the little ears over by the fridge.
Olivia had the insolence to look amused.
Women were horrible creatures. Horrible, wonderful creatures.
I couldn’t wait to try for date number two. And this time, I had no intention of being interrupted. I’d find a damn babysitter, even if I had to drop €1,000.
Olivia smiled at me, and my pulse sped up. The woman was dangerous.
After breakfast, Olivia lingered in the kitchen, while Catie dashed off to go get dressed for the day.
“So I was thinking,” Olivia said. “I thought we could all do something together today.”
I put my dishes in the sink. “I’m listening.”
“Today’s the last day of the summer festival, right? The big party at that mansion? Why don’t we all go together?” she said casually.
I felt like she’d thrown a bucket of ice water on my good mood. “There’s not a single thing on earth I want badly enough to set foot on that man’s doorstep.”
“But—”
“He killed my father, Olivia,” I said bluntly. “I’m not going, and I forbid you and Catie to go.”
Sympathy filled her face. “Declan, I know what it’s like to lose somebody.”
“Not like this, you don’t,” I snapped.
She flinched.
I knew that was cruel of me, but I needed her to understand. “Your parents…it’s terrible what happened, it absolutely is, but it was an accident. For me, it’s different. Mark O’Rourke has never faced a single fucking consequence for what he did .”
Mark O’Rourke’s face popped in my mind’s eye, and my hands balled into fists. For a fraction of a second, my body relived what it felt like to be a young boy again, struck by the knowledge that my dad would never come home again.
I only relaxed when I reminded myself I was no longer a boy—and that Mark O’Rourke would pay for what he did, come hell or high water.
Olivia’s voice gentled. “I just thought, this is a community event. Something the whole town participates in. Don’t you want Catie to have a chance to experience it? Don’t you worry that you might be letting your hatred of O’Rourke build a wall between you and the rest of the town?”
“Is that meant to be a joke, Olivia?” I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. I thought she knew me. “How are you not getting this? Mark O’Rourke was drunk . He was drunk and reckless, and he killed my dad. So no, I’m not going to his damn party.”
“Declan—”
“And no employee of mine is either.” The words came out with an edge. I was no longer Declan, the man who needed Olivia’s warmth as much as he needed the air to breath, but Declan, the hammer of retribution hellbent on crushing Mark O’Rourke.
Still, when I saw Olivia’s face, I realized I’d gone too far.
She didn’t look pissed. No, she looked terrifyingly calm. She took a deep breath. “I realize this is a sore spot for you, so I am going to forgive you for what you just said. But Molly invited me to go to the festival with her, and I’m going to accept. You might be my boss, but it’s my day off. And you don’t get to control where I go, or who I see. Ever .”
“Olivia…” To think of her in that monster’s house… no, I wouldn’t allow it. Maybe it was wrong of me, but I couldn’t stomach it.
She slammed her dishes down on the counter. “Declan, it’s clear we’re not going to agree on this. I thought this would be a good way for us to spend time together. Obviously I was wrong. Enjoy your day with Catie.” Then she stormed out of the kitchen.
I stood there, transfixed, looking at the place where Olivia had just been.
Had I gone too far?
Was my hatred for the O’Rourke’s bigger than what I felt for Olivia?
I spent the rest of the day throwing myself into work, while Catie slouched in the beanbag chair and watched cartoons on one of my spare laptops.
I’d been going at it for several hours when my phone buzzed with an incoming video call from Anil. “I’m taking away your email privileges. I can’t believe you just called one of the most influential tech journalists an arse.”
“He is an arse,” I grumbled.
“Arse is a bad word,” Catie chimed in from the corner.
“Is that Catie?” Anil asked. “Catie, why is your uncle in such a snit?”
“He had a fight with my nanny,” Catie said.
I whipped my head toward Catie. “You heard that?”
Catie gave me a judgmental look. “You shouted and then she left. You keep doing that.”
“I didn’t….” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Look, it’s complicated,” I said to Anil. “But I’m right about this.”
Anil looked skeptical. “You know how we say that in business, it’s better to be flexible and successful than stubborn and a failure, even if you’re right?”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“The same applies to your personal life.”
“Screw you,” I said and hung up.
Catie gave me another judgmental look.
“I know, I know, ‘screw’ is a bad word.”
Catie stood up. “Can I have one of the desserts since you said so many bad words?”
“You cannot,” I said.
She crossed her arms. “It’s past my snack time. I’m hungry.”
I looked at the clock and barely refrained from swearing again. She was right. It was almost dinnertime.
Over at the festival, the kids would be leaving, and the adults would be cranking up the music, lighting the alcohol, and bringing out the whiskey.
The thought of Olivia dancing around a bonfire with some drunken lout was like acid churning in my stomach.
Anil’s advice might have been right in most cases, but not this one. I wasn’t going to betray my father’s memory just because a pretty American asked me to.
I was right about this, and that was what mattered.
Wasn’t it?
“You can go have the strawberry shortcake,” I told Catie. “It’s got fruit, so it’s healthy.”
She perked up and left the room.
I needed to talk to someone who would understand. Anil and Olivia hadn’t known my da. They didn’t get it. So I called my mum and told her the whole story, minus the part about my dating Olivia. “I can’t believe she’d even ask me. It’s disrespectful. And insulting.” My fingers tightened around the phone. I still couldn’t believe she had decided to go, even after everything I’d told her.
She sighed. “Oh Declan. Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh, love?”
I stared at my phone in shock. “Mum, none of your friends would expect you to go.”
“They didn’t expect it, no,” Mum allowed. “But they always invited me, so that I knew I was welcome, whenever I was ready. You know my friend Moe works for Mark—she runs the party every year. And a few years ago, I realized I was ready. So I started going again.”
Had I heard her right?
“What?” I barked. I tried to lower my voice, not wanting her to think I was shouting at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Darling, you can be a wee bit huffy when you think you’re right,” she said gently. “I love you. But you’re my son, not my keeper. I won’t have you trying to control my life the way you do with Sinead.”
I sat down in my office chair, feeling like the world wasn’t as steady under me as I’d thought. Was that what I’d been doing to Sinead? And was I trying to do the same with Olivia? “Mum, I don’t…I don’t control her. If I could, she wouldn’t live across a bloody ocean.”
“That’s why she lives across a bloody ocean,” Mum corrected me. “Remember her first boyfriend, back in secondary school? You kept pointing out he was horrid until she dumped him.”
“He was horrid,” I protested.
“What about the daycare she wanted to send Catie to? You pressured her into sending Catie to a fancier one because you were paying for it,” she reminded me.
“Not fancier,” I said, defending myself. “Better. Shouldn’t Catie have the best?”
Mum sighed. “I’m not saying you’re entirely wrong, Declan. I’ll never forgive Mark O’Rourke. Ever. If I hadn’t had you two to care for, I might have killed him myself after the accident, for taking your da from me.”
My gut twisted. There was something in her voice that made me think she wasn’t exaggerating.
Unbidden, I thought how I would feel if a drunk driver killed Olivia. I’d murder the fucker with my bare hands.
“But I realized that wasn’t what your da would have wanted,” Mum said. “And he wouldn’t want you missing out on something good for his sake.”
“The festival’s not that good,” I grumbled.
“The festival isn’t the O’Rourkes’, Declan—not truly. It belongs to the community. But I’m not talking about the festival,” Mum said evenly, and I realized she’d seen more in my initial explanation than I’d wanted to admit. “Would you rather sit home, nursing an old wound? Or would you rather go to that lonely, beautiful girl who’s waiting for you?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I tried again. “How do you know she’s lonely?”
“The same way I know you are,” Mum said.
I thought of how happy Olivia had looked when she’d asked me to go with her. And how quickly I’d snuffed out her happiness with my own pain. I didn’t want that for her. I didn’t want that for me , either.
Maybe I could put a pause on my feud with the O’Rourkes for one night, if it made her happy.
I ran a hand through my hair, barely able to believe I was considering it.
Clearly, I was starting to lose my mind.
It was a little scary to realize how badly I wanted to make her happy. It was an instinct that felt so deep and true that it was a part of me, like the way a bird just knows which way to fly. Somewhere along the line, Olivia had started to feel like my map. Her opinions my due north.
The problem was, I had no idea where she was leading me.
“Are you going to the festival tonight?” I asked abruptly.
“No, I just got home.” She yawned, overly casual. “I was going to have a quiet night in. But I’d love to have my favorite granddaughter stay the night. If, hypothetically, there was somewhere you needed to be.”
I glance at an old family photo I had on my desk, of all of us together. Mum, Da, Sinead, me. That photo used to show everyone I cared about. But that wasn’t true anymore. It didn’t have Catie. It didn’t have…anyone else.
I looked at that photo and made my decision.