Chapter Fourteen Declan
Chapter Fourteen
Declan
Five days until the wedding
“Where should we put these, Mr. Barclay?”
I spin around to find two young women each holding a box of crystal vases that I have never seen in my life.
“How the fuck should I know?” I reply, wincing as soon as I hear the words leave my mouth.
The girls stare at me wide-eyed and terrified, the boxes practically shaking, when a soft hand touches my arm and a warm voice says, “On the tables in the dining room should be fine.”
I turn to find Blaire beaming politely at the trembling employees. As soon as they scurry off, I let out a sigh and rub my forehead.
“Thank you,” I mutter with appreciation.
“It’s fine,” she says with a laugh. “They’re just used to Anna, but I can handle you.”
When she gives me a wink before going back to folding ivory tablecloths, I feel like the world’s biggest dickhead.
“I’ll be honest,” I say, helping her fold another tablecloth. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“It shows,” she replies with a smile.
“My sister gave me this bloody list of things to do, and I have no fucking clue how I’m supposed to do all of this in five days. Arrange the flowers. Finalize the menu. Pick the cake. Press the linens. This is ridiculous. All for a fucking wedding.”
Blaire laughs to herself, and I glance over, momentarily admiring her sweet smile. I never should have skipped out on her after that night we hooked up. But I was drunk and an idiot.
And what am I even saying? What would be the point of prolonging things? The sex was good. We had fun. What else is there to do? No one wants me for a boyfriend.
Although if she’d like to rendezvous again…
“Can I be honest?” she says, turning toward me with the white fabric draped over her arms.
“Of course,” I reply, expecting her to finally give me hell for the way I treated her.
“I hate weddings.”
A laugh slips through my lips as I’m flooded with relief. “Trust me, I agree. They’re the worst.”
“Right?” she says. “So much work and hassle and this need for everything to be perfect.”
Suddenly, my attraction to this woman just multiplied.
“I’m forced to live here because this is my family, but why on earth do you work here if you hate weddings so much?” I ask.
She walks the tablecloths over to a table and drops them with the rest. “I need this job,” she says, “and I love working with Anna, but I could never tell her how awful this is for me. She and I have gotten close, and I consider her a good friend. And she loves this stuff.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against a table, appreciating Blaire for the first time. “I thought you were going to tell me what a royal arsehole I was for skipping out on you that night.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Are ye kidding? I wasn’t mad at all. I just didn’t want your sister to find out.”
“Oh God, me neither,” I reply with a sigh of relief.
“Listen, I’m no romantic. That night was fun, but I probably should be more careful not to shag the boss’s brother in the future.” She keeps her voice low and makes an adorable face that makes me smile.
“I think I love you,” I say with sarcasm in my tone that has her chuckling and smacking me playfully on the arm. “No, seriously, I think you are the female version of me.”
This has us both laughing when I feel a pair of eyes on me from the doorway. Blaire notices them first, cutting her laughter short as her eyes dash over to the man watching us.
Turning, I find Colin standing there with a serious expression on his face. I give Blaire a nod before spinning to face him.
“Mr. Shelby, can I help you with something?”
Last night’s argument is still fresh in my mind. I slept with the image of his vicious expression right at the forefront all night. The black paint smeared across his skin. The fiery red blush of anger on his cheeks.
Today, he appears calmer but no less hateful.
“Pierce has put me in charge of picking the cake flavor,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Well, aren’t you so obedient,” I reply with a coy smirk.
His jaw clenches shut as he rolls his eyes. “Never mind,” he mutters as he turns away. “I’ll find someone else.”
I let out a huff. “Follow me, Shakespeare,” I say with an authoritative tone as I lead the way to the kitchen. According to the binder, the cake samples were dropped off this morning and are ready for tasting.
I don’t need to turn around to know Colin is following behind me. He’s never been able to resist following my orders.
And when I reach the large kitchen—not my smaller, more private one—there is a team prepping food for today. I pull open the fridge to find a box from the bakery with an assortment of cake samples arranged on an ornate silver tray.
I pull the tray out and drop it onto the table near the window. “Here you go. Just let me know which one you pick when you’re done.”
With that, I turn my back on Colin and make my way toward the door. I’d much rather continue my conversation with Blaire than be in here with someone who hates me.
But I don’t even make it to the door. The sight of Colin holding that fork alone with an array of beautifully decorated mini cakes pulls at heartstrings I haven’t felt in a long time.
He’s wearing a miserable expression as he sticks his fork in the first tiny cake.
“Shouldn’t your fiancé be here to do this with you?” I ask with a sigh.
“Pierce is on a strict diet for a role. He won’t be eating any cake,” he replies coldly.
“He won’t eat any cake at his own wedding?” I ask, but Colin doesn’t respond. He just takes another bite of the red and white sponge.
Seeing him sitting alone feels unnatural to me. All through uni, it was my job to protect him. To make sure that no one ever treated him poorly and that he never had to feel like shit.
That’s not my job anymore—he made sure of that.
And yet…I can’t just leave him to do this alone.
I drop the leather binder on the table with a loud thunk. Then, I pick up the second fork and take a seat across from him.
His light brows pinch inward as he glares at me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing my job,” I reply flatly. Then, I dig my fork into the yellow cake with the tiny lemon on top. Colin watches me skeptically as I chew, but when the tangy lemon zest hits my tongue, I practically melt into the seat.
“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s good,” I mumble around the cake in my mouth.
The corner of his lip lifts before he quickly forces it away. Then, he tries the lemon cake for himself. Once the flavor explodes on his tongue, he has the same reaction. The anger dissipates as he hums with pleasure.
“That is good,” he murmurs.
“How was the red velvet?” I ask.
He gives a casual shrug. “Nothing special.”
“We need something to cleanse our palates,” I say as I rise from the table and find a bottle of whisky and two glasses in the cupboard. Colin’s head tilts in scrutiny when he sees it.
“What?” I ask as I pour the amber liquid into each glass.
“I think water would have worked fine,” he replies.
“What’s water?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t protest as he takes a slow small sip.
After the lemon cake, we both try the chocolate, and agree that it’s good but doesn’t blow us away.
“What about this one?” he asks, poking the light-purple icing.
“That’s…” I say, finding the flavor on the chart they provided. “Oh, that’s lavender honey. You hate lavender.”
He sneers at the cake before pushing the piece away. “I do hate lavender.”
Instead, he takes a bite of the vanilla, and I try the raspberry. Things grow quiet between us for a moment as we eat the stupid tiny cakes. I feel him watching me with a scrutinizing gaze.
“You remember that?” he asks.
I shrug. “You’d be surprised how much I remember.”
Taking another bite, he doesn’t say anything, obviously in contemplation.
So I add, “You’re not as inconsequential to me as I was to you.”
He drops his fork. “That’s not fair.”
“Nothing ever is,” I reply without looking at him.
“You act like I didn’t try, Declan. Like I didn’t beg you.”
“You’re right,” I argue. “You asked for something I couldn’t give you, and to punish me for that, you did the one thing that would hurt me the most. You left. Forever.”
His mouth sets in a thin line as he shakes his head. “I asked for what I deserved.”
We’re in the middle of a cold stare-down when approaching footsteps pull us out of it. “What’s going on in here?” Pierce asks as he enters the room, where Colin and I are sitting across from each other.
Each of the little cakes on the tray has been picked at, and two forks lie among the mess. The only thing thicker than that frosting is the tension between us.
Pierce massages Colin’s shoulders, forcing him to smile up at his fiancé. I glare down at the half-eaten desserts and try to swallow down the ire rising in my throat.
“So?” Pierce asks. “Which one won?”
“I think…the lemon,” Colin replies with forced cheer.
Lifting my head, I smile up at him and then up at Pierce. “Definitely. The lemon was sublime. Very good choice.”
Then I scribble lemon down on the notepad in the leather binder.
“Sounds great,” Pierce says excitedly.
With that, I stand from the table. “I have a meeting with the florist,” I say. “But if you need anything from me…” I level my gaze on Colin as I add, “Anything at all, please let me know.”
He looks away as I hurry from the room, leaving the two men alone with their ridiculous fucking cakes.
I don’t know what got into me back there or why I was so intent on arguing with Colin, but I really need to get my head in the game. There’s no point in making this wedding any harder than it already is.
I don’t care that he’s my old friend. And I don’t care that we crossed a line seven years ago. I won’t let this wedding be ruined by deeply buried resentment. I refuse to lose this bet because of some hard feelings.
Colin doesn’t matter to me anymore. The only thing that does matter to me is my future, my life, my peace. It’s all I have to protect now, at all costs.