CHAPTER TWO
Twenty minutes later, I was feeling more like myself, and the handsome stranger was right. I was mortified.
Did I seriously ask him if his carpet matched his drapes?
Oh, my God, Melodie. Jail. Right the hell now.
“Are you feeling better?” came the sweet whisper of an Irish lilt.
Grimacing, I nodded, refusing to look him in the eyes just yet. The mortification was still fresh in my mind, and I had a feeling that if I were to face him right then, he would see the embarrassment written all over my face.
“I came in about an hour ago and noticed you sitting at the bar alone, looking utterly glum,” the stranger continued.
“I figured a gorgeous woman like yourself shouldn’t be left alone for too long, lest one of the many lingering eyes that have been watching you all night snatched you up before I got the chance to say hello. ”
That got my attention, and I swung my gaze in his direction so fast my vision went a little cross-eyed.
He chuckled. “You hadn’t noticed, had you? Look around, darling. All these men have been drooling over you all night. I was simply the only one brave enough to come say hello.”
“I, um…” Words, Melodie. Use your words. “I think you’re mistaken. Or maybe you’re drunk too. No one is looking at me.”
He cocked his head to the side, frowning. “I don’t follow. Why wouldn’t they stare? You’re quite beautiful.”
“I…” The tips of my ears burned, and I was pretty sure my face resembled a ripe tomato. “Thank you?” I said sheepishly.
He smiled that womb-altering smile and stuck a hand out for me to shake. “Declan,” he said proudly, offering his name.
His large, warm hand enveloped mine in a gentle press of limbs, and my stomach did a weird fluttering swoop. The kind you get when riding a rollercoaster for the first time, and your body wasn’t quite sure how to react.
“Melodie Hart,” I offered.
“Melodie,” he echoed. “That’s a pretty name. Is there a meaning that goes with it?”
“I’m sure there is, but I don’t know it. My mother was a jazz singer, and she told me that when I was born, she heard heaven singing a new melody. Hence, Melodie, but with an ‘ie’ instead of a ‘y’. You know, so it looks fancier when you write it down.”
He chuckled. “Your mom sounds like fun.”
I smiled back. “She is. What about you? Is there a meaning behind Declan? I hear the accent, and I know the name is traditionally Irish. But I don’t think I’ve ever paid much attention to the meaning behind it.”
“Oh, you snagged that, did ya? Most people usually guess Scottish before they do Irish. Personally, I think they sound nothing alike, but I am biased. Irish is way sexier, especially since Declan means ‘well-hung’.”
I choked on the mouthful of coffee I was about to swallow, and some of it ended up coming out of my nose.
The stranger—no, Declan—smiled, and gently took my face in his large hands, wiping away the wetness from my nose and lips with a paper napkin he snagged from the bar top.
“There,” he said softly, seemingly proud of his work. “Perfect again.”
“Your name—” I said defiantly, trying my hardest to hold back the giggles, “—does not mean ‘well-hung’.” I snatched my phone off the bar top and did a quick Google search, then glowered at him. “It says your name means ‘full of goodness’.”
He shrugged, his mouth tilted at the corner in a sly smile. “Exactly. Full. Of. Goodness. In other words, blessed with a huge co—”
“Okay,” I said, putting my hand up and cutting off the rest of his statement. I was stunned at his words, but somehow found myself smiling; my cheeks cramping with the strangeness of the act.
“Fine,” he said wryly. “We don’t have to talk about my big… goodness. How about you tell me what had you so down earlier?”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping of their own accord as the realization of my predicament came crashing down on me.
I was going to have to tell him that I was married, wasn’t I?
Declan seemed like a genuinely nice person. And while I couldn’t swear on his character—having just met him, and all that—I could swear on the kindness he’d shown me tonight.
He saw a sad and openly vulnerable woman sitting alone at a bar getting drunk, and he chose to help sober me up.
Yes, that might have been for his own benefit, so we could have a coherent conversation.
Nevertheless, getting drunk by myself at a strange bar was highly irresponsible. And I usually wasn’t like that.
I didn’t put myself in vulnerable situations.
I was more sensible than that. I was a schoolteacher, for Christ’s sake, who constantly preached to my tiny humans about staying vigilant and being aware of their surroundings.
Yet, here I was making a fool of myself.
And for what? Because my husband decided to prioritize his own needs over mine? Again?
God, Melodie, when will you learn?
I let out a shuddering breath and angled my body in Declan’s direction. “It’s my birthday today,” I said softly.
Declan flashed me a beaming smile. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
He frowned, looking confused. “Are you… not happy that it’s your birthday?”
“No, I am. At least… I should be. Or I wasn’t, but I am now?”
He looked even more confused. So was I, for that matter.
I sighed again and decided to rip the band-aid off, let the chips fall where they may. “My husband was supposed to meet me here tonight to celebrate, but he didn’t show up.”
Declan’s gaze quickly flashed to my bare ring finger before meeting my eyes again. “You’re married, but you don’t wear a wedding ring?”
No, I hadn’t worn it since the night Seth gave me that ultimatum.
“It’s… complicated,” I replied.
He looked forlorn. “I see,” he said, and started to rise from his chair.
“No, Declan, please… don’t go.”
I didn’t know why I didn’t want him to leave.
He was a stranger, after all. I’d just met him and knew nothing about him.
Yet, he brought with him a sense of calm and dependability, and that silent strength I’d always wished for in a friend.
A friend. That was what he reminded me of.
He had the aura of a trusted confidant and lifelong ally, and I could use a friend in my life.
Sure, I had the other kindergarten teachers to confide in.
But there were some things you didn’t bring to the workplace, and marriage problems were at the top of that list.
Declan gave me a sad smile. “I’m sorry, darling. But I’d be pissed if I were married and my wife was sitting at a bar entertaining another man. I’m sorry I intruded on your night, but—”
“He doesn’t want me!” I blurted out.
Declan looked even more confused. “Is that like a… matrimonial practice that I don’t know about?”
I scoffed and took a sip of my now lukewarm coffee as Declan settled on his barstool again.
“He doesn’t want me,” I said again, slower this time, so he could hear the truth behind my words.
“Do you mind if I ask why?” he asked softly, and I shrugged.
It was embarrassing enough to look at myself in the mirror every day and know that this was my life. But could I tell someone? Could I bear the disappointing and the pitying looks that were sure to come?
I wasn’t sure if Declan would want to be burdened by my problems, but he did ask.
And if I were honest, I wanted to tell someone.
Maybe I needed an outside perspective on the male psyche.
Or maybe I just needed a good reality check to illustrate how stupid I was being.
Either way, I told him. From me getting sick and putting on the extra weight, to Seth and his ultimatum to date and have sex with other women, to my reasons for staying, and the shame I felt every day because of it.
Everything. I told him everything. The thought of my friends and family knowing this part of my life caused severe anxiety, yet somehow, talking to this stranger felt oddly therapeutic.
When I was done, my throat was dry from having talked so much, and Declan stared at me with an expression I couldn’t immediately decipher. It wasn’t pity or judgment. If I were to guess, I’d say it looked more like anger. But it wasn’t anger directed at me; it was anger on my behalf.
But why would he be angry for me? He hardly knew me.
“He’s a fool,” Declan declared, as I took a sip of water the bartender had delivered at some point during my soliloquy.
“I think you mean I’m the fool,” I said offhandedly.
He shook his head. “No, you had your reasons for agreeing with his buffoonery. Reasons that made sense at the time. And I get it. You had to do what you had to do so you could work towards achieving dreams. What I don’t get is his reasons for not wanting you.
You are unquestionably the most desirable human being in here.
And I say that with all the bias in the world. ”
I chuckled. “Is that so?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “You're gorgeous, Melodie. There is nothing about your weight, which is not a thing, by the way, you’re perfectly put together, that I find offensive or undesirable in any way. I, personally, like my women with some meat on their bones. More cushioning for a good, hard fuck.”
At his words, I swallowed wrong and nearly coughed up a lung.
“There, there,” he said, gently patting my back. “Was it the gorgeous bit or the part about fucking?”
Wheezing, I ceased my incessant coughing to glare at him.
He nodded sagely. “Yeah, you’re right, gorgeous is too common a word. How about mouthwatering?”
And despite my momentary inability to properly utilize oxygen, I laughed long and hard.