20. Winona
Winona
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
~ Leo Buscaglia
“Something’s off in your voice. What’s going on?” Cass asks.
“I’ll tell you in person. It’s nothing really.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Fine. I’m good. Better than good. But also confused. But good. I was doing amazing. Everything was. But now with Snow, I’m just feeling … everything.”
I turn into our neighborhood.
“Are you home?” I ask.
I suddenly realize it’s a weekday. My brain is flying a million miles an hour.
“No, of course you’re not home,” I correct myself. “You’re at work. I lost track of my days.”
“Winona. You’re rambling.” Cass sounds concerned.
Rightfully so.
“I need to sort myself out. That’s all. I’m good. Don’t worry.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’ll even pick up sandwiches from the deli for lunch. Are you coming home for lunch?”
“I am now,” Cass says. “I’d leave right this minute if you needed me to.”
“No. I sound worse than I am. I just need …” I take a deep breath. “I kissed Declan.”
“You WHAT?” Cass’s voice is loud enough I could almost hear it without my phone to my ear—from across town in her office to me here in my car.
“Well, technically, he kissed me. But then I kissed him too. And … yeah. We kissed.”
“And now you’re rambling and fleeing the scene?”
“Basically.”
“I’m coming home. I’ll get us breakfast burritos. You just drive home. I’ll meet you there.”
“You don’t have to do that, Cass. I’m fine.”
“I’ll see you at home in about a half hour.”
I know better than to fight with my sister when she’s got an idea lodged in her head. She’s an office manager for a realty office. They love her. If she wants to leave for an early lunch or even take a spontaneous day off, they’ll accommodate.
So, I just say, “See you at home.”
When our front door opens a little over a half hour later, I’m curled on the couch, my knees drawn up to my chest, staring out the front window. It’s the same position I’ve been in since I walked in the door.
My thoughts have been running laps, passing the same landmarks as they circle: our kisses … his jersey … Darlene’s reaction … Snow walking in … Declan standing in his doorway watching me drive away.
My emotions swell and fall with each pass: blissful, embarrassed, confused, dejected.
Cass holds the paper bag from the deli up high in the air. “Breakfast burritos secured.”
Then she looks at me and sighs, lowering the bag. “Oh. Win.”
“It’s not as bad as I look.”
“You’re wearing Declan’s jersey?” She wags her brows as she walks toward the couch and plops down across from me.
“He gave it to me to sleep in.”
Cass sets the burrito bag on the coffee table, reaches out and lays her hand on my knee. “You look beautiful. And I’m not saying a thing about how quickly you went from oblivious to super-fan to making out with the tight end. Not. A. Word.”
“Beautiful,” I mutter, Declan’s face flashing in my mind. He thinks I’m beautiful.
I look at Cass. “Thanks for not mentioning my transformation. Good job not mentioning a thing.”
She laughs. “I mean, it’s pretty incredible. I did not see this coming.”
Cass just stares at me like she’s witnessed an alien abduction. Me loving football and understanding the sport is possibly more incredible than little green men invading our planet. And yet. Here we are.
“So … ?” she asks, taking a burrito out of the bag and handing it to me.
“So … it was raining and we lit a fire and we were talking … and he kissed me.”
I can’t help the smile that takes over my face.
Cass smiles softly, unwrapping her burrito and taking a bite. “And that obviously went well,” she says with a nudge of her foot to my knee.
“Yeah. But that’s all I’m going to say about that.” I shoot her a look that says we’re finished discussing me kissing Declan.
“Anyway,” I say. “The rain slowed, but I was tired. And he asked me to stay—in the guest room.”
“Okaaaay …”
“And then I woke up and the housekeeper was there. My mind started running questions. Does he have women over often? Am I special?”
“You’ve been hanging around him for what now? Five … six weeks?”
“Five and a half.”
“But who’s counting?” Cass laughs and nudges my knee again.
“Have you seen women waking up in his house?” she asks almost rhetorically.
“No.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?” She knows he doesn’t.
“No.”
“What if he really likes you?”
“Me? The girl who’s about to go meet three dogs so she can learn their idiosyncrasies as a part of her odd-job life?”
“You, my brilliant, funny, kind, thoughtful, resourceful, beautiful sister. What if what you do for a living doesn’t matter to him?”
It doesn’t seem to matter to him. She’s right. He treats me like a friend … until last night.
“You should have seen Snow,” I say, mentally holding myself up next to the gorgeous redhead.
“It was a rainstorm, Win. No snow in sight.”
“No. Not the rain. Snow. The woman who showed up this morning.”
“A woman showed up this morning? Named Snow?”
“Yes. His mom gave her the gate code.”
“Boundaries!” Cass shouts, waving a hand in the air like a symphony conductor.
“Right?” I shake my head. “Anyway, she was gorgeous. She looked better than I have ever looked in my life—at nine in the morning. After an obvious road trip. She looked like she was about to do a Cosmopolitan photo shoot. And here I am sipping coffee from a mug at his kitchen island, wearing his jersey and his mom’s yoga pants … my hair a wreck …”
I’ve been looking down into my lap without realizing it. When my head lifts, my sister is staring at me. The expression on her face isn’t judgment or pity. Her brows are drawn up and her eyes are soft.
“Winona. Why can’t you see what’s right in front of you?”
“This burrito?” I ask.
“The fact that Declan O’Connell has had all these women—women like Snow—around him for years. And yet, he chose to kiss you. You’re the one he asked to wear his jersey.”
“He called me beautiful,” I barely whisper the words, as if saying them out loud will crack them like a fragile piece of glass.
I’ve looked in the mirror. I know I’ve got pretty eyes and nice hair. I’d call myself the-girl-next-door kind of pretty.
But today, within the past two hours, two people told me I’m beautiful.
And one of them was Declan.
I smile and then I look at Cass again. She looks like a chipmunk with a big bite of burrito filling her mouth.
“I’m scared, Cass.”
“Brfcruzz?”
“What?”
She chews and swallows. “Because? Why? Why are you scared?”
“I like him … a lot.”
She nods.
“His life is so big,” I say. “Right now, when we’re alone, we can be goofy or serious. We can sit in silence or have a long talk. But what happens when his life is back in session? I’m not Snow. I don’t know how to handle that kind of public exposure.”
“Who names their child Snow? It’s so confusing,” Cass practically whines, ignoring my reasons for questioning everything between me and Declan.
“Another woman who never got past the gates a few weeks ago was named Diamond,” I tell her.
“Diamond?”
“Yeah. And there was Chantal.”
Cass lets out a low whistle. “Fancy names, that’s for sure.”
“They are all supermodels or actresses, heiresses … so out of my league.”
Cass’s expression grows serious. “And yet … he kissed you, not some woman named after a gemstone or a weather formation.” She pauses to let her words sink in. “Let yourself enjoy this.”
I nod. Easier said than done.
“Do you think our kiss meant anything to him?” I ask.
I think back to how he looked at me—how he was looking at me this morning before Snow showed up.
“It means he likes you,” Cass says plainly.
“Doesn’t this all feel unrealistic?”
“What’s so unrealistic?”
“I'm Cinderella … and he's definitely a prince.”
She chuckles. Then she points at me, swallowing another bite of burrito in her mouth.
“Well, as far as I remember that story, the prince marries Cinderella.”
I sigh. “Well then, I'm the chamber maid that doesn't marry the prince. This isn’t a fairy tale. I’m up against these gorgeous and elegant women. And they don't bring their own goat when they come to visit.”
Cass drops her burrito into her lap. “You brought a goat to Declan’s?”
“I couldn’t leave her alone,” I say with a shrug. “And anyway, I think he liked her.”
Cass shakes her head. Then she looks me in the eyes. “I’ve been watching you since you started working with Declan.”
“And?” I pick up my burrito like I’m going to take a bite, but my stomach still feels wobbly, so I set it back down.
“And you’re happy. I hear the way you talk about him. He wants you around. He takes you to the practice facility. He could have anyone drive him. But he picks you. And you watch the games with him when you’re not required to be there … I’ve been taking notes.”
“Stalker,” I tease. But her words seep past my defenses.
“I stalk because I care,” she says with a maniacal laugh.
My laughter mingles with hers.
The sound of an engine cutting off drags my attention to the front of our house.
I practically rub my eyes when I see Declan exiting a midsize sedan. Darlene exits the driver’s side and comes around to hand him his crutches.
“Uh. Cass?”
“Yeah?”
“Declan’s here.”
“Here?” her voice squeaks. “At our house?”
“That’s generally what is meant by the word here.”
“Oh my gosh. Declan O’Connell is here. At our house.” She starts flicking her hands in the air and looking around frantically. She sets her burrito down and then looks at it and shakes her head. “Give me that.”
“What?”
“Your burrito!” she shouts.
“Why?”
“Because … I don’t know. It just feels messy. We don’t even have plates out. Declan O’Connell is at our home.”
I start laughing. I did not see this fangirl reaction coming. Maybe I should have.
“He’s just Declan,” I remind Cass.
His firm knock lands on the door and I stand.
“Maybe you should breathe?” I whisper.
“Winona?” Declan’s deep voice comes through the door.
“Coming!” I say.
I open the door and he’s standing there, leaning on his crutches, his eyes searching my face.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask.
He nods.
“Does Darlene want to come in?”
“She’s waiting in the car.”