Chapter 8 #2
We usually do brunch, gifts, and then go to the beach, so when I emerge from the craft room, I’m not surprised to see both my mom and Kate, plus my dad and Declan, already drinking mimosas. Autumn has a cup of orange juice in front of her as well while she fiddles with her new camera.
I haphazardly throw my hair up into a ponytail while I enter the kitchen, and Kate hands me a mimosa not a moment later.
“You need one of these,” she tells me while clinking her glass to mine. She’s made herself right at home, and I can’t help but wonder how she’s so different from Declan.
Now that I know she’s his sister, it’s one hundred percent obvious they’re related. The only difference is their height and eye color; Kate’s eyes are whiskey brown instead of yellow-green. But whereas Declan is the more silent, brooding type, Kate is an extrovert through and through.
“Alright, you guys, it’s time to eat. But before we do, I just want to say I’m so glad you could join us, Kate and Declan. We are so happy to have you in our home,” my mom exclaims with pure joy on her face.
We all raise our glasses, and Kate and Declan both thank my parents. Declan’s gaze swings my way, and we stare at each other while we take a sip from our mimosas.
I would pay big money to know what he’s thinking right now. His stoicism is irritating but also extremely intriguing.
I pull out my phone and send him a text while everyone else files in line for the food that covers the kitchen island.
Me: A penny for your thoughts?
I hear his phone ping, and he pulls it out of his back pocket. I should probably just ask him like a normal person because he’s only five feet away from me, but I feel like he’ll give me a true answer through messages.
He sets his mimosa down and uses both hands to text back.
Declan: I see what you did there. Lol. I was just thinking how grateful I am that your parents invited us over today.
I look up at him, and he gives me a soft smile.
“Dec, can you help me with my plate?” Autumn asks, looking up at him with her puppy dog eyes.
Declan puts his phone back in his pocket and nods, grabbing the plate in her hands that she’s shoving at his stomach.
“Um, what do you want?” he asks back, and she climbs onto one of the island stools and directs him like she’s the conductor of an orchestra.
I should probably intervene, but it’s entertaining to see him falter around a four-year-old. I smile to myself and pick up a plate of my own while watching my daughter boss him around.
My mom always goes all out for Christmas brunch and makes more food than we can eat.
There’s bacon, sausage, cheesy scrambled eggs, French toast, cranberry-orange scones, mini blueberry muffins, quartered Monte Cristo sandwiches, cream cheese stuffed crepes, and sauces of all kinds.
It’s the kind of feast that has you stuffed until dinner time, when she feeds you even more food.
“This looks incredible, Briana,” Kate exclaims while filling her plate with a small amount of each food. I chuckle because this girl has basically become family in a matter of twenty-four hours and fits in right at home here.
I watch Declan get Autumn set up at the table, making sure she has everything she needs, and then he comes back for his own plate. He’s not shy about piling it high with food, but I guess for a man of his size, he needs a lot of calories.
“Do you want a scone?” he asks me as he reaches over the island.
“No, thank you. I’m allergic to cranberries.” He pauses to look at me and then backs away from the sweet pastry. “But you go ahead,” I tell him, “I know they’re amazing because it’s my mom’s friend’s recipe and she owns a bakery.”
“That’s okay,” he says and then moves on to the next item on the island.
I furrow my brows but shrug. Once our plates are full, we settle in at the table and eat.
My parents ask all kinds of questions directed towards Kate and Declan.
I learn that Kate is an event planner for their dad’s business, a business she doesn’t elaborate on, but that she plans everything from corporate events to weddings.
Declan gets asked questions about Blank Canvas Ink and how he got into tattooing. He tells my parents that he’s always been into art and strayed towards tattooing at a young age. My mom asks him about his visible tattoos, the ones on his hands and neck.
His knuckles have “fearless” spelled across them, and he explains the ones on the tops of his hands. “The rose is Kate’s birth month flower, June. And the wolf symbolizes walking your true path.”
“He was never one to conform,” Kate says with a small tilt to her lips and warmth in her eyes.
“Did the ones on your neck hurt?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He looks at me and nods. “Yeah. A lot. Especially down the middle of my throat. But to be frank, they all hurt.”
The sunflower is smack-dad center of his neck and is framed by a butterfly on one side and two swallows on the other side.
You’d think, because of how Declan looks and acts, that he would have something more manly, but surprisingly, they suit him. And they all look super realistic, beautiful actually. Something I noticed when I first saw his picture online.
“Don’t forget to tell them you do most of your own tattoos,” Kate adds.
My eyes widen in surprise, and I swear I see Declan blush while my parents fawn over that fact.
You wouldn’t think that a man as gorgeous as him would be as humble as he is, but he takes the compliments with grace and poise, trying to downplay what we were just told.
The conversation finally moves to something else, and Declan visibly relaxes while we all fall into easy conversation, finishing up our food and drinks.
My dad and Declan help clear the empty plates once we’re done, and we all move into the living room to gather in front of the Douglas Fir that’s so full of ornaments I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen over yet.
My mom plays Santa, passing out gifts, and for some reason, I get nervous when she hands Declan his present from me.
He looks shocked to even be getting a gift, and I can’t help but think about how he and Kate weren’t going to have a Christmas tree or do anything today until my mom asked them to come over.
“You guys seriously didn’t get us gifts, did you?” Kate asks, her expression a mixture of shock and awe as she looks at the gifts in front of her.
My mom waves her off. “Oh, it’s nothing. Now open, everyone.”
My daughter can’t help herself and starts tearing at the gifts in front of her.
I move from the recliner to sit next to her on the floor, watching the awe on her face as she opens the gifts from my parents and me.
The two that I saw Kate unloading from her stack are last, and one is a trendy, pink leather backpack with a big bow on the back that Autumn raves over as soon as she opens it.
“Look, mommy! A new backpack. I love it!” she exclaims, and I laugh when she hugs it and then puts it on to wear.
When she finally opens the last gift, her eyes widen. “A unicorn! It’s so pretty.” The eight-by-eleven drawing is… indescribable. The most realistic unicorn I’ve ever seen is shaded in pastel pinks, purples, and blues, and is framed in a pink sparkly frame.
My eyes snap to Declan, and he’s watching Autumn fawn over the drawing with a small smile on his face.
I swallow hard at the thought that he drew this especially for her, and I look away because otherwise, I’ll do something stupid. Like tell him I have a crush on him. Even though I don’t.
I move to open my gifts, grateful that my parents got me an air fryer to make my life easier, and that Kate got me a gorgeous oversized chunky cardigan that just so happens to be in my size.
When I tear at the gift that’s the same size as the one Declan gave Autumn, a small gasp leaves my lips.
It’s a framed photo; the one from my dating profile.
The one that Jordan took of me from behind, sitting in the sand while I watched the waves crash at sunset.
But in this picture, Autumn is with me, her small form leaning against my shoulder. But this isn’t a photo, it’s a drawing.
It’s probably the most heartfelt gift someone has ever given me.
I wipe my under eye, getting rid of the lone tear that strayed down my cheek, and set the drawing down, excusing myself without saying a word.
I head to the bathroom down the hallway and lock myself inside.
When the hell did he have time to draw that?
I look at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath. “It’s just a drawing, Penny. It means nothing,” I tell the reflection looking back at me. I blink away any redness from the lingering tears, gather my wits, and open the door, running into what feels like a wall.
Large hands land on my shoulders, steadying me, and I look up into the eyes of the man who just made me cry.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.
I nod and give him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m good. Just needed to use the bathroom.”
He takes a step back and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you,” I say, “for the drawing. It’s uh… it’s the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever been given.”
“You’re welcome. It’s no big deal.”
Um. Yes. It is.
But I don’t argue with him. Instead, I move toward him in the tight space of the hallway and wrap my arms around his waist, squeezing him tight.
I think I’ve shocked him, like every other time we’re in each other's presence, because he doesn’t react at first. But he finally comes to his senses and wraps his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me back.
His warmth is all-consuming as he hugs me, and I can’t help the butterflies that swarm in my stomach at his touch.
This is a one-hundred percent platonic hug, but my body doesn’t get the memo because I’m heating up from the inside out.
He leans his cheek on the top of my head, and I relax into the easy affection. Why have we not hugged before? We should have been hugging this whole time.
And he smells so freaking good. Like sandalwood and saltwater.
A throat clears down the hallway, and I quickly pull away from Declan to see who the sound is coming from.
My dad stands at the end of the hallway with his hands in his pockets.
Shit.
“When you two are done here, it’s time to go to the beach. You can change into your wetsuit in the bathroom, Declan,” my dad says, and I swear I see his lip twitch up on one side, but it could just be a trick of the light.
When he turns around and leaves, I plant my forehead on Declan’s chest and groan. “Why is everything so weird?”
He lets out a chuckle. “Because our friendship started unconventionally.”
Right. Friendship.
I go to pull back, but he surprises me by cradling my head in his hands and tilting my head up to look at him.
His light eyes search mine, and he leans down.
I hold my breath and don’t break eye contact with him.
He shifts his face just slightly and plants a soft kiss right next to my mouth.
The first thought that crosses my mind is, did he not eat the scone because he had planned to kiss my face? No. That can’t be right.
I finally close my eyes and soak in the moment. I have a feeling this could be the first and last time he does this with how hot and cold he is, and I want to bask in the way he’s holding me right now. Never mind how my heart races or how I want to wrap myself around him and never let go.
What is this man doing to me?
My emotions are all over the place when I’m around him, and I have no idea which way is up or which way is down.
But we’re friends, and I need to remember that.
He slowly pulls back and licks his lips, like he’s savoring the taste of my skin. “I’m gonna grab my stuff and get dressed,” he says softly, pulling his hands from my face.
I blink a few times before speaking. “Right.” I pull my sweatshirt sleeves over my hands. “Thank you again for the gift, it’s beautiful.”
“You’re welcome.”
How did I just get friend-zoned again, and at the same time feel like I was being claimed by my pen pal slash neighbor slash friend?
I’ve never been more confused in my life.