Chapter Twenty-Three Declan
Chapter Twenty-Three
Declan
The Shelby family is seated in the dining room while I hide in the kitchen, trying to focus on the things that need to be done. But I’m still within earshot of them, and I can’t help but eavesdrop.
Throughout the entire meal, it’s mostly Pierce talking. Well, Pierce and Colin’s dad. There is a lot of bragging. Some criticizing of Colin, which I hate.
Whenever Colin’s mother tries to speak up, she’s immediately spoken over by her husband.
And I can’t help but notice the way she makes subtle jabs at him.
She ever so subtly brings up the events he’s missed or the times he’s been away, with a sweet, high-pitched tone to her voice.
Because everybody at the table knows those were the times when he was with his other family.
It’s the secret that’s not really a secret at all.
It’s infuriating the things this family lets him get away with without consequence. The fact that he can have another family, and yet, this one will just accept it.
But then they bring up Colin’s career. My spine straightens, and I nearly drop the phone in my hand as I begin to dial the number of yet another bakery.
His father mentions a part in a movie Colin accepted, and Pierce chimes in with a whole lot of “I tried to tell him not to,” and not a word from the entire table is encouraging of Colin except from his mother, but no one listens to her anyway.
When I can’t take another second, I snap.
“Where are you going?” Blaire asks as I march from the kitchen into the dining room. I don’t answer her. I just waltz right into the room to find that their food is eaten, and they are just sitting back and talking lazily.
Everyone glances up at me expectantly as I enter. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but could I please borrow Colin for a moment? I have a decision that needs to be made about the cakes, and I would like his input.”
Colin’s brow furrows and Pierce absentmindedly waves him away. “Of course, yes, go ahead.”
I give Colin a look that silently tells him to stand up, before turning away and waiting for him to follow. Except I don’t go into the kitchen.
I lead him down the hallway, through the house, to the back door. The rain has stopped, and I figure we could both use a breath of fresh air.
As soon as we’re on the gravel out back, he practically shouts, “What on earth are you doing?”
“I’m saving you,” I respond as we walk. I’m ahead of him, but I hear his steps on the ground behind me.
“Saving me? From what?”
“From your father. From all of that. I couldn’t listen to one more fucking second of it,” I reply.
I turn back to see Colin smirking for a moment before picking up his pace behind me. “I don’t need saving, Declan,” he mumbles before quietly adding, “but thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply. “We’ll call it a cake emergency.”
“Of course,” he says. “A cake emergency. Out in the garden.”
I smile to myself as we stroll through the grass toward the edge of the property.
For some reason, it feels as if we’re heading toward the gazebo in the distance, where the wedding will take place. My brother was married there only two years ago.
“I mean, honestly, though, I don’t know if you’re going to have a wedding cake,” I add.
“What?” he replies in shock. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, the baker came down with the flu. I’m supposed to be finding a new one.”
“We need a wedding cake in three days, and you’re going to go for a walk with me instead?”
I shrug, fighting a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
With a scoff, he laughs and shakes his head. Then, he drops his hands against his side. “I don’t bloody care about the cake, if we’re honest,” he says.
I pause. I suddenly want to ask if he cares about any of it. Is this wedding really that important to him?
“I do,” I reply casually. “That lemon cake was fucking orgasmic.”
“Orgasmic?” he asks with a laugh.
“It was,” I reply, as a light sprinkle douses my head. I pay it no mind as we continue our stroll.
“I don’t know if it was that good,” he replies.
Suddenly, we’re both smiling. We’re alone, not fighting, comfortable, and that all feels like it means something.
And then, from out of nowhere, the sky opens up, and rain pours down in sheets.
“Oh shite!” I bellow, looking back at Colin, who is standing with his arms wide, stunned and getting visibly drenched.
For a moment, we stand frozen in place as if we’re both trying to decide where we should run for shelter.
“The gazebo,” I shout, because it seems closer. Then, I grab his arm and drag him toward the small shelter at the perimeter of the garden. We both take off in a run, laughter cracking through the sound of rain.
“I’m getting soaked!” he cries, and I turn back to look, and he is drenched from head to toe already. His wavy blond hair is matted against his head in wet locks. His skin is glistening from the moisture as it drips over his full pink lips and down the straight, perfect line of his jaw.
I’m so distracted by how stunning he is, on top of how slick the grass is, that my foot moves from underneath me, and I slam down to my ass.
Colin continues running while laughing at me, but a moment later, his right foot slips out awkwardly to the side, and he falls too. But his fall is worse.
Over the sound of the rain and our laughter, we can both make out the unmistakable sound of his trousers ripping at the back. Neither of us even bother trying to stand. I’m on my back, rain pummeling my face as I howl with laughter.
What a pair we are.
Colin has mud streaked across his arm and back. His tight gray slacks are split down the middle in the back, revealing his briefs underneath. He’s also laughing so hard that his face is red. He’s lying on his stomach, and he hides his face against the grass as he giggles.
For a moment, I’m transported back in time.
It’s no longer today, three days before his wedding.
We’re no longer in our thirties. For just a few moments, we are twenty-one again.
We’re in Los Angeles, Dublin, or Amsterdam, living without consequence, enjoying life for the moment, reckless and untouchable.
When our eyes meet, I think he feels it too. I nearly forgot what it felt like to have a friend. To laugh so hard it hurts. To be with someone who truly makes me feel carefree.
Our laughter eventually dies down enough for me to climb up to my feet, but I notice Colin struggling.
“Blast,” he says through his laughter. “I think I really hurt my ankle.”
Taking his arm in mine, I help him to his feet, and it’s obvious right away that he cannot put weight on it.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch,” he mutters. It is still pouring, and we’re still getting drenched down to the bone. The gazebo is only a few more feet away.
“Come on, Shakespeare,” I say as I put his arm over my shoulder. He hobbles a few steps, but it’s too slow, so I slide my arm under his legs and lift him off the ground.
“What on earth are you doing?” he asks, but he clings to my neck anyway. I take each step more carefully than the last as I deliver him to the shelter.
There’s nowhere to sit, so I set Colin on his good foot and gently lower him to the floor. He’s wearing a white button-down that is drenched and sticking to his skin. I can’t tear my eyes away from the translucent fabric and the muscles of his chest showing through.
Colin’s always been a bit on the slender side. Try as he might to bulk up more to my figure, he’s never had the meat on his bones that I do. And as much as he used to berate himself, I would reprimand him for it because he’s perfect. He always has been.
“I can’t believe my trousers ripped,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “How am I gonna go back to the house like this?”
“How are you gonna go back to the house at all?” I reply, looking at his ankle. “You can’t walk.”
“Blast,” he says, trying to flex it. “I hope I didn’t break it.”
“Let’s take a look,” I say, kneeling on the floor in front of him.
I take his right foot in my hand and rest it on my lap. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
Then, I carefully peel off his shoe and then his sock.
The laughter is gone, and suddenly, it’s silent between us.
The only sound is the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof of the gazebo.
It’s a delicate, quiet moment as I hold his bare ankle in my hand, inspecting it for anything blue or swollen.
“Does this hurt?” I ask quietly as I squeeze the joint.
He shakes his head. Then his eyes lift to my face, and we’re staring at each other, me holding his foot, softly running my thumb across his ankle. As I slowly massage his leg, he winces in pain, and I stop.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he replies. “I think it’s just sprained.”
“Let me carry you back to the house,” I say as the rain starts to lighten up.
“No, you can’t do that,” he replies.
“Yes, I can.”
“Do you really want to?” he asks.
“I don’t want you to be in pain,” I say.
His eyes linger on mine before he responds. “I’m not ready to go back with them yet. I think I’d rather stay here for a little while longer.”
With that, and for no good reason at all, my heart lurches with hope.
“Okay, Shakespeare,” I reply, sitting comfortably on the ground in front of him, his foot still resting in my lap. “We’ll stay here for a while.”
* * *
The rain won’t stop. Even as it lightens to a drizzle, it never fully stops. Colin is sitting across from me on the cold, wet ground. Our clothes are still soaked, and his foot is still resting on my lap to keep it elevated.
“I really can’t stand him,” he mutters coldly while staring out into the rain.
“Your father?”
He nods. “You know, the only reason he’s even here is because he’s impressed by my movie star fiancé.”
I tilt my head and furrow my brow. “That can’t be true.”
“It is,” he replies solemnly. “He never came to a performance of mine. Or my graduation or any awards ceremony. Apparently, his other wife is pregnant again, and they take priority.”