Chapter Two Declan
Chapter Two
Declan
When I venture out of my studio hours later, it’s dark, and I hear familiar voices echoing through the halls. As I make my way into the kitchen, my older brother’s voice booms loudly with laughter.
I step into the room with a grimace as I cross my arms over my chest. Killian is leaning against the kitchen counter, his petite wife pressed against him with his beefy arms wrapped around her.
My younger brother, Lachlan, is helping Anna tie bags of rubbish and carry them out the door to the back of the house.
The wedding is long since over, and only my siblings remain to either help clean up or drive me mad.
“What are you all doing in my house?” I scowl as I reach for the kettle to put some water on for tea. “Surely, we didn’t all bother Killian as much as you all bother me.”
They laugh. “That’s exactly why we’re here,” Lachy replies. “You’re a miserable grump. If we don’t bother you, who will?”
“Exactly my point,” I mutter.
“It’s surprising that all these weddings don’t bring you a little bit of joy,” my sister-in-law, Sylvie, says with a smile. “I wasn’t much for them either, but even I can admit, they are lovely.”
My brow furrows as I turn the stove on to heat my water. “They are loud, obnoxious, and only make me more bitter.”
“Says the man who hides away in his studio like some attic-dwelling ghost,” Anna jokes.
“It’s my house, and I have every right to haunt it,” I reply, flicking water in her direction.
“Come now,” Killian drawls. “Maybe if you came down occasionally and helped our sister with these events, you’d learn to love them.”
I glower at my brother because I know he’s full of shite. He was twice the miser I am, and he wouldn’t have been caught dead hosting weddings in the manor when we lived here. He snickers to himself, clearly fancying my agony.
“Aren’t you supposed to be returning to New York soon?” I ask, glancing between him and his wife. “What are you two doing here anyway?”
“We’re on our honeymoon,” she replies sweetly.
“You got married over a year ago,” I say. “Twice, I might add. And Scotland is no place for a honeymoon when you’ve lived here for so long. Honeymoons are for places like Bali and Greece.”
“I prefer rain and clouds,” she replies before tipping her face up to her husband’s. He leans down to kiss her on the lips, and I have to look away.
It’s not the kissing that bothers me, but the brazen flaunting of marital bliss. Call it bitter jealousy, but I don’t need to see just how happy and in love they are. I give it five years before they can’t stand each other the way they did when they first got married.
Granted, that was because the family forced them into a sham marriage, but still…this period of passion will fade, and they’ll despise each other again. It’s inevitable.
While I wait for my water to boil, I cross my arms and look at my sister. She is the one who calls all the shots anyway. She’s not technically in charge by rank or age, but she is the one the rest of us look to for guidance.
The last thing I want is to disappoint Anna and take away the one thing she loves, but I can’t keep living like this, and she knows that.
I did agree to come back to Barclay to spend a year or two on my art, and I did say she could continue to host events here, but after only a few months, it’s clear this isn’t working.
I deserve to have my house back.
And if I can’t have that, I have to leave.
The fleeting expression of concern on her face shows that she senses it too.
“Wouldn’t ye like a break, Anna?” I ask. “Hosting these events is so much work. And for what?”
“I enjoy it,” she replies enthusiastically. “And I think you would too, if you’d give it a shot.”
I scoff as my two brothers crack up in laughter. “Me? You think I would enjoy hosting these stupid, extravagant parties?”
“Yes! Sure, they’re extravagant,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But they’re also romantic. And it makes me happy to be around so many happy people. Instead of around a bunch of grumps like you.”
“Come on,” Lachy jokes. “Give it a shot, Dec. Maybe she’s right.”
“I’d love to see the miserable wedding you’d host,” Killian adds with a haughty laugh.
“Thanks,” I reply sardonically. “I think I’ll stick to my studio in the attic. Haunting the visitors and being the ominous dark figure through the window that scares all the guests away.” I add in a little ghostly sound for effect.
Everyone cracks up momentarily, but when the laughter eventually subsides, Anna is staring at me.
“But how much longer do you think you can do this, Declan?” she asks seriously.
I heave a sigh as I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know, Anna. Either I have to go, or the weddings do.”
Truth be told, I don’t want to leave the manor.
I like living here in my family house where I was raised, where memories of my parents echo through the halls.
Where my childhood still feels somewhat intact.
Where I can pretend my family is still together and the happy lives we once lived still exist somehow.
Not to mention, it’s beautiful here, even in the cold, bitter, depressing months. I find so much inspiration in the manor and on the grounds. There’s something mystical and intriguing about it.
I haven’t felt this inspired in a very long time. For the first time in ages, I feel compelled to paint something other than…him.
Anna’s expression melts in disappointment, and I hate how I do that to her. Because no matter what I choose, she ends up disheartened. She’ll either lose this thing that she loves, these weddings, or she’ll lose me.
And for Anna, the only thing that matters is keeping this family happy somehow. Lord knows we don’t make it easy on her.
“Oh, Dec,” Killian says, noticing Anna’s grimace. “You can put up with it for a little bit longer.” None of us want to hurt her, not really.
“I can’t,” I reply with a groan as I rub my forehead.
Just then, the whistle on my teakettle pipes up, screaming through the kitchen and breaking the tension between us all. I rush over, grabbing a mitt to pick it up off the stovetop.
Call me old-fashioned, but there’s something nostalgic about making tea on the stove the way our parents once did—with the kettle they once did.
Without even asking, Anna pulls down five teacups from the cupboard, setting them on the counter while I rummage for the tea bags.
For a moment, being here together with my siblings, preparing a late-night cup of tea like our mother always did, soothes my soul.
Judging by the comfortable silence among my brothers and sister, they feel the same.
As we stand around my kitchen quietly sipping our tea, it’s Killian who seems to be scheming somehow. A look on his face says he’s up to something. And after he sets his teacup down with a loud clang, nearly breaking it, he announces, “I suggest a wager.”
Internally, I bristle. I don’t like the sound of that.
“A wager?” I ask.
“Yes. You,” he says, pointing at me, “need a shake-up.”
Everybody snickers to themselves, eager to hear where this is going. Because, on one hand, I don’t want to give Killian any power over me whatsoever. But at the same time, I do owe him.
At least in my mind, I do. I don’t feel right after what happened with my brother.
Our entire family tricked him into marrying a stranger while also deceiving him out of his house.
And while it might have ended blissfully for him, he’s still rightfully cross with the three of us for deceiving him at all.
Then, on top of that, he passed down the manor to me free and clear.
The least I can do is hear him out.
“Aye, little brother, I think you don’t give our sister enough credit for everything she does for this house.”
“Sure,” I reply with a shrug, uncertain where this is going. “But I also don’t care.”
Anna slaps me playfully on the arm.
Killian continues. “So I think in order for you to fully grasp just how much she does and accept what she’d be giving up if you made her quit, you have to take her job for one whole week.”
“What?” I shriek in shock. “There’s no way I could do that.”
“Oh, it can’t be that hard,” Sylvie slips in. “By the time they show up, everything has already been planned. You just have to make sure it all goes smoothly.”
“Excuse me,” Anna snaps. “It is quite hard, actually. I have to coordinate decorations, flowers, the cake, the parking, the guests, the rehearsal, the food. I don’t want Declan anywhere near these weddings. No poor fool deserves to have their nuptials ruined over some imbecilic dare of yours.”
“Don’t worry, Anna. We’ll be here to oversee and make sure Declan has it under control,” Killian says to calm our sister’s nerves.
“Okay, wait,” I say, putting my hands out toward them. “I’m not saying I’d agree to this, but what do I get if I can pull it off?”
“If you pull it off, it will be the last wedding held at Barclay Manor,” Killian states flatly.
“No!” Anna shrieks.
I notice the way Killian shoots her a look as if to settle her worries.
“What, you think I can’t do it?” I ask.
“Oh, I know you can’t,” he replies smugly.
“But if you get through the week without screaming at anyone, and the wedding is beautiful, then you’ll have the manor to yourself—everything you want.
Anna, since we know how important it is to you to keep one of us living in the manor, you’ll get to keep Declan here just like you want, and everybody will be happy. ”
“I won’t be happy,” she whines. “I like having the weddings.”
“Then have them somewhere else,” I say.
She huffs in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest.
“One wedding?” I ask Killian uneasily. I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
“Just one,” he replies, holding up a finger.
“Anna, when is the next reservation?” I ask.
She seems to calculate in her mind for a moment, and then her eyes pop open. “Oh, no, no, no. You can’t have that one,” she says.
“Why not?” I ask.
“It’s a celebrity wedding. I don’t even know who the couple is.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Some manager booked it and everything. I’ve only spoken to them over email. All I know is that it’s two grooms, and they will be here next week.”
“Okay, well, I obviously can’t do that one,” I say, holding my arms out toward my sister.
Killian thinks about it for a moment. “I think you can,” he says.
“Not a chance,” I reply. “I am not hosting a celebrity wedding.”
“Now that I think of it…” Anna retorts, her mouth twisted in concentration. “Everything for this one is already done. They have their own wedding planner, and it’s going to be quite simple. Not many guests. A very private affair.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say.
With that, Anna turns around and picks up a brown leather-bound binder off the counter. Then she thrusts it against my chest with a smirk on her face. “Actually, I am serious, and I think you could do it.”
“What the hell made you change your mind?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Killian has a point. This could be a good experience for you. It would let you see just how much goes into these events and how much the guests love them. Barclay brings people joy again, and not in the same way it did when Killian lived here.”
He chuckles mischievously behind her.
“You really think this a good idea?” I ask. “You want me to deal with the guests and manage the entire event. You want me to be the face of Barclay Manor?” I ask, gesturing to my unkempt hair and shaggy beard. My sister tilts her head and ruffles my hair with a motherly gesture.
“The Declan I remember used to love to be the life of the party. The Declan I remember used to be happy. He used to smile. He might have even believed in true love. You might not remember that, so maybe this will jog your memory. Do we have a deal or not?”
My big sister stares up at me with her spine straight and her head held high, a look of fierce determination on her face. I mean, how can I say no to that?
“Fine,” I mutter flatly as I take the binder from her. “Joke’s on you.” I laugh as I start to flip through it. “Because if I fuck this up, nobody will want to have their wedding here anyway.”