21. Declan
DECLAN
A week later, I watch as Skylar scurries around the dining room, making sure everything is just right.
She prepared all week for this dinner party, which has taken the pressure off dealing with whatever the fuck happened between us last weekend.
She’s actually been pleasant. I drive her to and from work, and she tells me about her day.
She orders dinner, and I set the table. It almost—almost—feels like we’re in a real marriage, except when we go our separate ways at the end of the night.
That’s when, in the dark of my room, I stroke myself to the thought of her, wet and needy, aching for me as much as I ache for her.
I think about her in her room doing the same, touching herself to the memories.
We haven’t talked about what happened in my room the night I brought her home from the bar, or the kiss in the shower, and there hasn't been a repeat of either.
“Declan.” She sounds panicky as she bounces over to me. “We’re short a fork.”
I walk over to the kitchen island where there is a lone fork sitting on the counter and hand it to her.
She relaxes. “Oh. I must have left one when I grabbed the bunch that was there.” She shakes her head, adding the fork to the last place setting.
When she’s satisfied with the table, she heads back into the kitchen.
She’s been mixing, sautéing, and baking for hours.
I have no idea what she’s making, but if the intermittent burning smell is any indication, it doesn’t seem like it’s going well.
I tried to sneak in a few times to fix whatever was going wrong, but she caught me and shooed me out every time.
The doorbell rings and Skylar jumps. “I got it,” I tell her. “Relax. It’s going to be fine.”
She takes a deep breath, nodding, and I head to the front door.
It’s probably Allie and Ash or Luke and Emory.
It’s definitely not my sister because she shows up at least half an hour late to everything.
But no, I’m not that lucky, because standing in front of me is Nate Caldwell in all his tall, brooding glory.
He’s holding a bottle of wine and looking irritated.
“No plus one?” I ask. “Still can’t get them to stick around, huh?”
I’m not exactly sure where my animosity toward Nate comes from. Maybe it’s some deep-seated jealousy that his father actually loves and trusts him or some shit.
He shoves the bottle against my chest. “Nah, I heard your sister was coming, so I thought I’d keep my options open.”
Before I have time to respond, he pushes past me into the house. I tell myself he’s just trying to get back at me for my comment in the car last weekend, but I swear to fuck if he even thinks about touching my sister, he won’t live to see the end of this dinner.
Luke and Emory show up next with their son.
Apparently their babysitter fell through at the last minute and both sets of parents are out of town.
Allie and Ashton come right after, and Ash immediately steals Rowan right out from Emory’s arms. Like the goofy motherfucker he is, he moves Rowan’s hands, pretending to tell Allie he wants a baby cousin.
As predicted, my sister arrives almost an hour late.
“Sorry, sorry!” she chirps as she waltzes into my house without knocking. “My roommate caught her boyfriend with her sorority sister and she was obviously having a major meltdown, so I had to be there for her.”
I give her a hug, and she goes around greeting everyone and introducing herself to anyone she doesn’t already know.
When she gets to Skylar, she pauses. Amelia is four years younger than me, so she was only fourteen when everything went down with Sky, but before that they were always friendly.
It’s not like they’ve been avoiding each other, but with Skylar in California and then Amelia in college, it’s been a while since they’ve talked.
Skylar smiles, but before she can even say anything, Amelia launches forward and wraps her arms around her.
“I’ve missed you, Skysky,” she says into Skylar’s shirt, her voice muffled.
Skylar laughs as she rubs circles over my sister’s back. “Me too, Ames. I can’t wait to catch up and hear all about college.”
Amelia rolls her eyes. “It’s been…interesting.”
“I bet.” She gives Amelia a knowing look, which I don’t entirely understand.
The next hour is easy. We have some drinks. Luke puts Rowan to sleep in a portable crib in Skylar’s room, and then we sit down for dinner.
Skylar plates everyone’s dishes and brings them out, refusing help from anyone who offers.
“Okay, dig in!” she exclaims once everyone is served. “Oh, wait. Shit! I forgot the salad. Please eat in the meantime.”
“I’ll help,” Amelia offers, and they both scurry out of the dining room a little too conspiratorially for my liking. I don’t know what that’s about, but Luke wastes no time doing exactly what Skylar ordered.
I immediately hear crunching coming from his side of the table, which is weird because this is…
baked ziti…which shouldn’t crunch. He doesn’t seem fazed, though, so we all follow suit.
I look down at my plate, noting the slightly blackened edges of congealed cheese draped haphazardly over a bed of pasta.
I cut a piece with the edge of my fork and bring it up to my mouth, but before I can take a bite, a chorus of coughing and sputtering rings out around the table.
“What the fuck?” Allie chokes as Ash slaps her back. “What did she do to my recipe?”
“This is like the time Rachel put beef in the trifle,” Nate says as he brings his napkin to his mouth, spitting out the bite he just took.
All heads swivel to him, and he shrugs. “Don’t give me that look. I grew up with a sister. You think I’ve never seen Friends?”
“I don’t know. It’s not that bad.” Luke takes another bite and it crunches loudly.
Emory looks horrified. “Are you serious? You tell me you love my cooking all the time.”
He swallows his bite, looking around the table as if we’re all in on a joke he’s not in on. “I do love your cooking, baby.”
“But you also like this?” she demands.
He looks conflicted and eventually decides that dropping his fork is the best course of action.
Ignoring everyone else, I bring my fork up to my mouth again and slowly take a bite. Not only is the pasta completely undercooked, but the sauce is sweet, like cloyingly sweet, as if someone dumped a shit-ton of sugar into it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nate inspecting the food on his plate. “Is that…an eggshell? I’m out.” He stands abruptly, causing his chair to scratch against the floor.
“Oh…” Emory puts her hand to her ear in an overly dramatic gesture. “I think I hear the baby crying.”
“I’ll get him,” Allie rushes out as she stands up. “I need the practice. Right, Ash?”
“You do?” He lowers his voice to a stage whisper. “Are you trying to tell me something, Chaos?”
“No!” She throws her hands up, attempting to communicate something to him with her eyes.
Ash eventually gets it and stands up. “Um, yeah. We’ll go get Rowan.”
“That’s not necessary,” Emory cuts in.
“Everyone sit the fuck down.” I don’t yell because I don’t want Skylar to hear me, but my voice has enough of an edge that it leaves no room for negation.
Allie rolls her eyes but sits. Ash and Emory follow behind her.
Nate drops down in his chair, but not before hitting me with an icy glare that might be intimidating to anyone else but me.
Meanwhile, Luke is already back to eating the ziti from hell.
He’s giving major Joey vibes right now, and yes I also grew up with a sister, but none of that matters because Skylar worked her ass off all day to make this meal.
These people are going to fucking eat it if I have to shove it down their damn throats, which is exactly what I tell them.
At that moment, Amelia and Skylar come back, the latter holding a large wooden salad bowl. Sky takes the seat next to me but doesn’t touch her food. “I’m too nervous to eat,” she whispers. “How is it?”
“It’s delicious,” I tell her, and the smile she gives me makes my heart explode. I know I said I was done lying to her, but one more tiny one can’t hurt.
The salad is no better than the pasta. I didn’t know it was possible to fuck up lettuce, but Skylar found a way.
To everyone’s credit, they do their best to at least appear to be eating, and Skylar lights up again when Luke asks for seconds.
Although they all make up lame excuses when she asks if anyone’s ready for dessert.
By the time we’ve said our goodbyes and everyone except Amelia has left, I feel desperate.
I didn’t realize how much I liked having Skylar all to myself until I had to share her with all these people.
Amie seems to pick up on it, shooting me a look after Skylar starts to clear the dishes. “Don’t worry. I’m going,” she mouths.
I roll my eyes, but wrap her in a hug all the same. “You have some explaining to do, big bro,” she says, pulling away.
“I was going to say the same to you.” I nod at Skylar to let her know that I noticed their little disappearing act earlier.
“I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours,” she replies.
“Touche.” I press my hand up against the wall. “Seriously, though, Ames. Are you okay?”
She sighs. “I will be.”
I don’t like the sound of that one fucking bit, but she’s an adult now, and I have to remind myself that she can handle her own shit.
She winks at me as she steps to my side, briefly touching my cheek with her thumb. “And stop fighting with fucking bikers.”
“When did you start cursing like a sailor?” I yell at her retreating back.
“When I decided I wanted to be just like my big brother,” she answers before disappearing out the front door.
As soon as it clicks shut, there’s a gasp from the dining room. “This is awful,” Skylar shrieks. I try to keep my face neutral while she chews a forkful of pasta. I’m not sure what to do with my hands, so I put them in my pockets as I lean against the wall.