Elsie
“What a happy coincidence that we ran into you tonight,” Declan’s grandmother says, smiling at me across the table.
“Declan had just been talking about you,” his grandfather adds, nudging his grandson with his elbow. Declan shakes his head and takes a bite of his burger, studiously ignoring the older man’s teasing.
“Thanks for inviting me to join you.” I smile at Declan’s mom, who looks very little like the man seated beside me, other than the dark hair that they share.
Declan’s been quiet since we sat down at Captain’s, and the tension radiates off him in waves. I can’t figure out if it’s because we ended up at an impromptu meet-the-family dinner, or because a solid two-thirds of the restaurant patrons keep glancing our way.
Even though it’s early on a Wednesday evening, it’s peak tourist season, so the dining room is full. The place is packed with a mixture of townies and tourists, and none of the former are hiding theirinterest in our budding relationship. Our date in the park has been hot gossip all week, and judging by the number of glances we’ve gotten since we sat down, everyone’s been eagerly waiting to see what happens next.
It doesn’t help that I haven’t been in a relationship since my last one ended years ago, and everybody in this town knows it. The fact that I went on a date with the new guy in town is, unfortunately, big news around here.
When I complained to Grace about it last night, she had tried to put it into perspective for me – in her own way.
“You guys are like a romance trope brought to life: the sweet florist and the bad boy tattoo artist next door,” she had said, grinning. “It’s borderlinescandalous. People are into it.”
I try to ignore the age-old anxiety churning in my gut, and the way my palms start to sweat when I think about what a spectacle we are tonight. I can’t help worrying about what people are thinking, and wondering if peoplereallycare that much, or if I’m just imagining it.
The thought of everyone in town getting invested in my love life once again –
Don’t go there, Elsie.
Thankfully, the good company makes it easier to ignore all of the eyes on us, whether real or imagined. Declan’s family is lovely. His grandmother asks me tons of questions about myself, about the shop, about life in Port Myles. His grandfather is a bit quieter, definitely less chatty, but he chimes in with questions about fishing and my dad’s hardware business.
Declan’s mother – who I noticed he calls Sasha instead of Mom – falls somewhere in the middle. She’s a bit reserved at first, doing more observing than talking. Every time Declan’s shoulder brushesmine or he gives me a quick, nervous glance, she studies him, like he’s a complicated puzzle she can’t quite work out.
It doesn’t take long for her to open up, though Before I know it, she, Declan’s grandmother and I are trading stories about the worst meals we’ve ever cooked.
“The first time I ever made a pot roast, I forgot to add all the liquid ingredients,” Sasha confesses. “It was bone dry and I had to use a knife to scrape it from the bottom of my crockpot. I had a friend over for dinner and I wanted to die of embarrassment."
“Oh no,” I laugh. “Did you still eat it?”
“We did,” she groans. “Went through about half a gallon of milk to wash it down and we both had stomachaches for the rest of the night.”
Even as we all laugh, Declan’s body is coiled tight like a bow. I can see it in the way his corded forearms flex as he reaches for his glass of water, and the hard muscle pulled taut in his thigh when I place my hand there without thinking.
I want to ask him if he’s okay, but I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention, so I let him be for now. Instead, I do my best to charm his family and ignore the weight of the stares that linger on us throughout our meal and into dessert.
We’re halfway through our blueberry cobbler when Gail stops by our table. I’d seen her flit past once or twice, tossing a quick wave over her shoulder as she went, but she’s been busy doing whatever it is restaurant owners do during their busy season. Mitigating kitchen crises and making conversation with customers, probably.
I introduce Gail to everyone at the table, and I’m not surprised to find that she remembers Declan from when we all came out to celebrate our first day in business. She’s good with details like that.
“How’s my favorite girl?” she says warmly, smiling down at me. She always calls Olivia, Grace and I that. We’re all her favorites, and we never tire of hearing it.
“I’m good. Busy, but good. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m hanging in there,” she laughs. “Between this place and prepping for the wedding, I thinkI’mgoing to need that honeymoon to Greece in the fall.”
“You deserve one,” I tell her. “And hey, the wedding will be here before you know it. Only a few weeks left.”
Gail immediately tears up. “My baby, getting married. Can you believe it?”
Just then, the sound of something crashing to the floor echoes through the dining room. “I think that’s my cue,” Gail sighs. “It was so nice meeting you all. Declan, it was great to see you again. I’ll see you at the wedding, right?”
Raised voices filter our way from the other side of the room, and Gail excuses herself and hurries off in that direction before Declan has a chance to respond.
I knew that Olivia and Cam had wedding invites for Sean, Frankie, Declan, Maya and Eddie delivered to the shop next door, but this thing between Declan and I is so new, we haven’t talked about it yet. I haven’t had a chance to consider whether or not I should be taking him as my date.
