“But what?”
“I just don’t want to leave Colm and Maureen in a lurch. I know how much they need you and I monopolized you last weekend.”
I was touched but my time was my own. If I continued hiding myself away in Fitzgerald’s I was afraid I would become resentful … that I’d turn into my mom.
“It’s okay, Declan, really. They have enough staff and …”
Suddenly I didn’t want to speak the words.
“And?” he asked expectantly.
“And … well … I’m going to be gone soon so they should probably get used to filling the schedule with other employees.”
I tried to ignore the lead weight that settled in my chest at the thought of leaving them.
At the thought of leaving him.
“Hmmm,” he muttered and the line went silent.
“Declan?”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing. Was just checking to see if you were still there.”
“I’m still here,” he said, his voice dropping lower, his breathing slow and steady through the speaker.
“You must be exhausted. I should let you go.”
“Not yet, just …” he trailed off. “Just, talk to me for a bit.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”
I smiled even though he couldn’t see it. Two minutes ago we’d been saying filthy things to each other, but now we whispered sweet little nothings. I loved the dichotomy of it, how he could be both dirty and gentle. This was a side of Declan that was reserved exclusively for me, and it filled me with a warm, happy glow.
I began speaking quietly, telling him about the time Katie and I’d gone on a northern lights expedition and slept in glass igloos as the night sky shimmered with green and purple above. I described the magic of it and how the aurora borealis was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. When his breathing fell into a steady rhythm, I knew he’d fallen asleep. I continued talking for just a few more minutes, wanting to make sure he was out.
As my story came to a close, I realized on a lurch that I wanted to see the rest of the world with Declan by my side.
As I whispered good night and hung up, I realized that was next to impossible.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sophie: Rich and ugly, or poor and good looking?
Declan: What about rich and good looking?
Sophie: Not an option.
Declan: I beg to differ since you just described me.
Declan: What about you? Beautiful and fat or skinny and ugly?
Sophie: I’m not answering that. No matter what I say it makes me look shallow.
Declan: But it’s okay for you to ask me?
Sophie: Yes. Because we both already know you’re shallow. Whereas you still think I’m sweetness and light.
Declan: Well, you’re certainly sweet. *smacks lips together*
Sophie: Oh my god. Do you ever *not* turn something into sexual innuendo?
Declan: Not if I can help it.
Sophie: Anyway, would you rather have a dog with a cat’s personality or a cat with a dog’s personality?
Declan: Can I choose neither?
Sophie: Nope.
Declan: Shit Sophie, I don’t have time for a pet.
Sophie: Shit Declan, I’m not saying you have to run out to the humane society today and pick one up. Just answer the damn question.
Declan: Alright, fine. A dog with a cat’s personality. Dogs can be fun but they’re too needy. Cats are super chill.
Sophie: Cats are pure evil.
Declan: You don’t like cats?
Sophie: Oh no, I love them. Their evilness is a point in their favor. No one messes with a cat.
Declan: I know I said these games of yours are stupid, but every so often you say something that gives me strange insight into who you are and I love it.
Declan: Okay, my turn. Would you rather be the funniest person in the room or the most intelligent?
Sophie: The most intelligent, no question. Lemme guess. You would choose the funniest?
Declan: No one likes a smart ass.
Sophie: You love my ass. ;-)
Declan: !!!
Sophie: Two can play at your game, mister.
Sophie: Would you rather have no taste buds or be color blind?
Declan: Not blind, blind? I just couldn’t see colors?
Sophie: Right.
Declan: Hmm. As much as I love the taste of you, I’d have to go with no taste buds. I need to be able to tell the difference between jerseys on the field.
Declan: Would you rather lose your sense of touch or your sense of smell?
Sophie: Sense of smell, definitely. In fact, I’ve wished for it on a few of my trips. And don’t think I didn’t catch that thing about how I taste. You’re incorrigible.
Declan: And you’re delicious.
Declan: Oooh. Here’s one. Would you rather fight 100 duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?
Sophie: Shit. I never know how to answer this one. First, ducks are dicks so the idea of a horse-sized one trying to clomp all over you is terrifying. But if you can bring it down quickly, that’s only one foe you have to contend with. That might be easier than fighting off 100 of them.
Declan: I love that you’ve given thought to this and that you sound just a little bit bloodthirsty about your battles.
Sophie: Yes, I’m a regular Queen Boudicca.
Sophie: Here’s a good one. Would you rather have to read every single word in the “terms and conditions” when you upgrade your iPhone, or ask your mom for permission every time you wanted to have sex?
Declan: That’s not a good one at all. Of course I’d read the damn contract. Wouldn’t you?
Sophie: Hmm. Maybe. It might be fun to harass my mom like that. I should give it a try sometime.
Declan: Please don’t.
Sophie: Yeah, you’re right. Terms and conditions it is.
Sophie: Alright, here’s something different. Would you rather have your Netflix history made public or your Spotify history made public?
Declan: I don’t have Netflix and I am unashamed of my music preferences.
Sophie: You don’t have Netflix?
Declan: Nope.
Sophie: So no Netflix and Chill?
Declan: What does that even mean?
Sophie: I’m not sure. I *think* it means you invite someone to your house under the guise of watching TV and chilling out but then you end up having sex in front of the TV or something.
Declan: Not to brag, but I’m pretty sure I don’t need to get you to my place under false pretenses.
Sophie: You’re totally bragging.
Declan: Okay, yeah. I am. You’re a pretty good pull.
Sophie: Yes, I am. And don’t you forget it.
Sophie: Anyhow, I have to run downstairs now and set up for the night.
Sophie: Talk to you later?
Declan: Yup. I’ll call around half-eleven.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Declan
Since I’d only been able to show Sophie two of the places I’d wanted her to include in the profile she was going to write, I wanted to use our date today to cram in as many other spots as possible.
When we’d confirmed our plans yesterday, I’d crossed my fingers and hoped for dry weather so we could stroll around my neighborhood and down to the seafront, but since it was December in Ireland the weather was refusing to cooperate Not that I was surprised, but since it’d been dry and sunny yesterday, I’d held out hope the weather would hold for one more day.
It hadn’t started raining yet, but the skies were black and gray and the wind gusting off Dublin Bay felt like icicles impaling my flesh, so yeah … new plan.
Looking at my watch, I calculated how much longer before her train rolled in. Seeing there was still time, I pulled up the contacts list on my phone and made a couple of quick calls. By the time I finalized our plans, Sophie was steppi
ng off the train, a large overnight bag slung over her shoulder.
“You brought a bag,” I observed unnecessarily as I reached for it.
Her eyes flicked between mine for a moment and she nodded. “I wasn’t sure I would.”
“I know,” I answered with a grin.
When I’d asked her to stay the night, she said she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. For every excuse she tossed my way, I’d countered with a more compelling argument. For half an hour we’d gone back and forth until I grew frustrated with her protests and had stupidly accused her of not being invested in our relationship. She’d sworn up and down that she was, but her refusal to spend the night with me had stung all the same.
But here she was, and she was staying.
Was this what giddy felt like? I wondered.
Tossing the handle over my head, I settled the duffel across my body and took her hand in mine.
“I’m glad,” I admitted, raising her knuckles to my lips.
“I’m still not sure it’s a good idea,” she answered.
Turning to face her, I studied her face for the first time since she’d arrived. She looked tired, her eyes pinched and her mouth set in a grim line.
“Tell me what’s wrong?”
She looked away. “Nothing.”
“Look at me, Soph.” When her head begrudgingly swung back to me, I said, “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
She sucked in a breath and her shoulders sagged. “I overheard my grandparents talking about the future this morning.”
“That’s good though, right? You’ve been trying to get them to think about it since you got here. This is a step in the right direction.”
She sighed. “They weren’t talking about their future. They still won’t consider any of the proposals I’ve put forth.”
Her eyes flashed with ire and color rose to her cheeks. “They were talking about my future.”
“Your future?” I asked nervously.
Alarm must have shown on my face because she laughed humorlessly and said, “Yeah, that was my reaction too.”
“What did they say?” I asked hesitantly, not sure I was going to like what followed.
“Oh, you know, just how amazing it was that their plan for you and me was working out and how maybe now you could convince me to settle down here.” She leveled me with an accusing glare. “Please tell me you never gave them the impression that’s where this was going.”
The truth was, I hadn’t talked to Colm or Maureen in days but her emphatic refusal to even consider sticking around was a blow I hadn’t been prepared for. We hadn’t discussed her staying—hell, since that night at The Georgian, we’d avoided mentioning her departure entirely—but somewhere at the back of my mind I must have thought there was a chance I could persuade her to stay, because hearing her talk about leaving with such force cut me to the quick.
I shook my head. “I haven’t talked to your grandparents since that morning in your kitchen. If they got the impression you were staying, it didn’t come from me.”
“Well, they got it somewhere,” she responded angrily. “And now they’re going to be gutted when I leave anyway.”
“Maybe they’re not the only ones,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
“Maybe you have more reasons to stay than you have to go,” I added.
“Like you?” she asked and I shrugged noncommittally.
Her anger turning to something resembling pity, Sophie placed her hand on my arm.
“Declan,” she sighed.
Shaking her off, I resumed walking.
“Hey, wait up,” she called out, rushing to keep pace with my long strides. “Hey,” she repeated, reaching my side. “Talk to me.”
“I have,” I bit out. “I do.”
“Not about this. In fact, we haven’t talked about us at all.”
I stopped again and turned to her. “I thought I made myself clear back at the hotel and again last night. I’m all in. You? Not so much.”
She didn’t respond. We’d been through this; there was no reason to bring it up again.
“Look, it’s cold out here and if we keep stopping every 20 meters to argue, we’re never going to make it to lunch.”
“I didn’t realize we were arguing,” she answered cautiously. “But you’re right, it is cold. Should we drop my stuff at your place and then head out?”
Shit. Light as it was, I’d forgotten all about her overnight bag.
“I’m about ten minutes this way,” I said, pointing toward the end of the road. When I started walking again, Sophie fell in step next to me.
“Cute street,” she replied, her eyes taking in the red Victorian houses lined up in terraced blocks of ten.
Looking at it with fresh eyes, I agreed. “Yeah, it is. I bought my place about a year ago when I got tired of Aidan. It’s weird having a house all to myself, but it’s on the smaller side so it’s not too bad.”
“You’ve got me beat,” she answered with a chuckle. “I pretty much live out of suitcases.”
And there it was: another pointed reminder of her nomadic lifestyle. The lifestyle that was going to take her away from me.
When Sophie bit her lip and looked away, I knew her thoughts had taken a similar turn. Good. Maybe if she thought about it often enough, she’d see there was no reason for her to leave quite so soon. Especially since I’d asked what her next job was and she didn’t have anything specific lined up yet.
Maybe that’s why it feels like she’s running away from me, instead of running toward something important.
“Here we are,” I said, gesturing at my brick-fronted cottage.
Sophie’s face split into a huge grin. “It’s adorable,” she squealed as we made our way up the red and black tiled walkway to my front door. Smirking she added, “The window boxes are a nice touch too.”
Even though I was pissed off, her observation forced a smile. “What can I say? I love Christmas.”
“Please tell me you did all this yourself,” she begged, taking in the whole winter wonderland scene.
Dropping her bag at my feet, I looked around, seeing it from her point of view. “Yeah. Maybe I went overboard,” I confessed sheepishly, settling my key in the lock.
I actually thought I’d held back with only the two automated reindeer. And the window boxes she’d mentioned were stacked with fewer “presents” than I’d initially included.
“No, it’s perfect,” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me from behind. She squeezed me tight, then added, “You’re perfect.”
My heart jumped and my throat constricted but I blinked away my reaction. Maybe it made me a chick, but it was going to be hard enough to say goodbye without her going all soft and sweet on me like this. Resolving to harden my heart against further assault, I slid from her embrace and stepped into my house.
Setting her bag down, I turned back to her. “You ready?”
Sophie angled her head and studied me. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Nope,” I answered, stepping around her to stand in the door. Checking my watch to avoid her scrutiny, I outlined the rest of our afternoon. “If we leave now, we can grab lunch and be at the distillery by two o’clock. I didn’t know if you’d be up for anything afterward, so I haven’t booked dinner. I’m sure we can figure something out though.”
“Whatever you want works for me,” she answered, rocking back on her heels.
“Great,” I said, stepping aside so she could exit. “We’ll play it by ear then.”
Sophie joined me on the stoop and as I locked up, she rested her hand on my back. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
My eyes fixed on the door, I blinked slowly before sliding them to her. Making sure my expression masked my unease, I answered blithely, “Yeah, everything’s great. Why do you ask?”
“What you said back there—” she pointed in the direction of the train stop “—we never finished talking about it.”
“What more is there to say? We’re to
gether while you’re here and we’ll see how it goes when you leave. That’s the deal, right?”
“Yeeesss,” she intoned, drawing out her response. “And you’re okay with that, right?”
“Whatever you want to give me is fine.”
It wasn’t, but I was done arguing with her. She’d made her choice and if I wanted to be with her, I just had to live with it and hope it didn’t hurt too much when she left me.
“Is it though?” she asked, eyeing me skeptically.
“Yup,” I said, my lips popping on the p. “Should we go?” I asked pointedly, wanting to drop the subject.
With a resigned breath, Sophie slid on her gloves. “Absolutely. I can’t wait,” she responded, painting on a forced smile.
A little over six hours later we were in a taxi on our way back to my place. Lunch had been strained, but we’d both relaxed once the distillery tour had gotten underway.
A dram or two of 21-year-old whiskey will do that to you, I thought, remembering Sophie’s reaction to a reserve bottle the manager had opened specially for us. She didn’t know it yet, but I’d asked him to ship a bottle to her out in Ballycurra.
Having agreed to come back with a couple of my teammates to sign autographs next week, Sophie and I’d been treated to more whiskey than I normally drank in one sitting. I’d been slightly buzzed by the time our tour had wrapped up while Sophie had been well and truly drunk by the fourth dram. My girl was a lightweight.
With my arm wrapped around her shoulder and her head resting against my chest, I realized she was asleep and used the quiet moment to assess my earlier reaction and examine my feelings. Even though I’d pursued her with a single-minded focus, I hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. At first I told myself we’d have a good time, enjoy each other’s bodies, but it wouldn’t go any further. But I knew I’d been fooling myself from the get-go. I’d fallen hard … and fast. So incredibly fast. The joke was on me though because for once I was the one looking for commitment from someone who couldn’t return the sentiment.
The way my chest hurt every time I thought about her leaving let me know I wasn’t going to handle it very well when the day came. I’d already watched her leave Ballycurra once with a lump in my throat; I didn’t need a repeat performance. What I needed was to pull back, put some distance between us while I still could.
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 24
