Should I be asking him to go with me?
Declan leans over, his mouth close to my ear as he murmurs, “Quit thinking so loudly. You don’t have to take me.”
Some of the tension eases out of me. It should probably scare me, how easily he’s able to read my thoughts.
“I just hadn’t really thought about it yet,” I whisper back.
He leans back a fraction of an inch, studying my face. “I already planned to go with Sean and Frankie. No need to give this town more fodder for their gossip.”
I nod, grateful for the easy out. We’d already taken a big leap from first date to dinner with his family. Taking him as my date to my best friend’s wedding wouldreallyget the town talking.
“What about Maya and Eddie?”
Declan shakes his head. “They’re not really the wedding-going type. Honestly, I’m not, either.”
Now it’s my turn to scrutinize him. “Why are you going, then?”
He shrugs and settles his arm across the back of my chair, then brushes his thumb across my shoulder. “You’ll be there,” he says simply.
His easy confession makes my heart swell. “Save a dance for me, okay?”
Declan smiles, his first once since sitting down tonight. It’s that soft smile that I love, the one he reserves just for me. “You can have all of my dances.”
I ignore the knowing looks exchanged by everyone else at the table as they watch us.
Thankfully, Declan’s a bit more relaxed beside me for the rest of our dinner. At least until dessert comes.
“This might be the best blueberry cheesecake I’ve ever had,” Declan’s grandfather announces after his first bite.
Sasha gets a wistful look on her face. “I tried to make blueberry cheesecake once,” she says, darting a quick look over at her son. “It was Declan’s tenth birthday, I think.”
“It was the weekaftermy birthday,” Declan corrects her. His tone has a biting edge to it that makes everyone at the table pause. I glance his way, but he won’t meet my eye. He stares at the tabletop and lets out a long, slow breath. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s fine,” Sasha says quietly. She fiddles with her fork, then sets it down on her plate without tasting her dessert. “Anyway, it didn’t turn out very good, if I recall.”
“We’ll have to try again sometime,” Declan’s grandmother says, an obvious attempt to break the tension that’s settled over the table.
“Won’t hear any complaints from me,” his grandfather says with a forced chuckle.
We move on from the tense moment, but the lingering awkwardness never quite clears. Our walk back to our shops is quiet, and when we reach the old redbrick building, Declan still won’t meet my eye.
“It was so nice to meet you all,” I tell Declan’s family. “Thanks again for including me.”
“Anytime, sweetheart,” his grandmother says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “It was lovely to meet you.”
Declan’s mom and grandfather echo similar sentiments, and the three of them say their goodbyes to Declan before heading down the block toward their car. Declan and I both watch them go, and for the first time, I don’t know what to say to him.
“Well,” I finally say, once they’re out of sight. “I guess I’d better get going.”
“Yeah,” is all Declan says. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks over my shoulder, his gaze unfocused. I fiddle with my keys, giving him a chance to say something more.
That anxiety I’d been fighting off back at the restaurant is back, and it’s multiplied tenfold. I hate not knowingwhyDeclan is being like this. I want to shake him and demand that he explain why he’s acting so weird. Find out if it’s something I did.
Instead, I say, “Bye, Declan.”
I turn to leave, but a hand on my waist stops me. Without a word, Declan steps closer and tugs me toward him. He leans downand presses a soft kiss to my forehead, lingering there for a second before releasing me.
“Bye, Elsie,” he says quietly.
