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He nodded. “Yeah, sometimes it takes something like this to get us thinking about stuff like that.” He stared down a moment before looking back at me. “I can tell you right now, if I died tomorrow, I wouldn’t feel like my life had been enough. I mean, I work in advertising, shoving products down people’s throats with exaggerated claims. How is that helping the world, you know? It’s not. It’s helping put money in the pockets of already-overpaid executives. My sister Catherine is on the other end of the spectrum, living her entire life doing good deeds. But I try to make small differences where I can. The hope is that they add up in the overall scheme of things.”
I smiled. “They always say what people remember most about someone is how that person made them feel. You definitely make those around you feel like you’re truly invested in them. That’s how you make me feel. You’re a good friend.”
“And to think, you almost let me walk away because I have a penis.” He winked.
I laughed, relieved to see his first genuine smile of the night. “That would’ve sucked.”
“In all seriousness, being a good friend is one way people can make an impact. It’s never too late to call that friend you’ve been meaning to call, or to do small things that add up. Stop the homeless person on the sidewalk and offer him lunch. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders to contribute to change. You can do it little by little.”
“How did you get so insightful?” I smiled, clutching one of the throw pillows to my chest. “Hey, I never got to properly thank you for being there for me the night my dad was rushed to the hospital.”
“Anytime.”
I hesitated a moment. “Will seemed freaked out to see you with me, but I guess I can’t blame him considering what he thinks of my relationship with you.”
“Did he tell you we got into a pissing match outside the waiting room before you woke up?”
“No, but I sensed something when I saw you two talking.” I paused. “I know why he must hate you. He thinks you’re his competition. But…why do you hate him?”
Declan’s jaw tightened. “I’ve already told you. The verdict is still out on Dr. Dickalicious. I don’t like how fast he changed his tune on things.” He shrugged. “But look, I just want you to be happy. If he ends up making you happy, that’s what matters.”
You make me happy. Those words were at the tip of my tongue as the tension in the air grew thick.
Declan jumped up off the couch and clapped his hands, seeming to forcibly shake himself out of his funk. “You know what this night is missing?”
“What?”
“Breakfast for dinner. You hungry?”
Rubbing my stomach, I grinned. “I’m starving, actually.”
“Go relax. I’m gonna head to the store because we’re out of eggs. I’ll be back in twenty.”
“Sounds good.”
After spending so much time at my dad’s house, I was glad to be back in my happy place. A casual night in with Declan was exactly what I needed right now. The only thing dampening the evening was Declan’s strange mood. Maybe I was overreacting. Everyone has the right to feel crappy and not have to explain themselves. Maybe I’d just been spoiled by his happy-go-lucky demeanor up until this point.
While waiting for him to come back, I took a nice, hot shower. Closing my eyes as the water rained down on me, I reflected on our conversation, pondering some of the small things I could do moving forward: be a better daughter to my parents, a better big sister to Siobhan, volunteer my nursing services somewhere once a week on one of my days off. Declan was totally right. There were lots of small ways I could make my life more meaningful—in honor of my dad.
I exited the shower feeling refreshed and hoped Declan would be in a better mood when he returned. I’d just wrung out my hair when the doorbell rang. I thought it was a little strange that he was using the bell, but perhaps he’d forgotten his key.
Wrapped in my towel, I walked over to the door and opened it with a huge smile on my face. It faded when I realized it wasn’t Declan returning with the groceries. It was Julia.
I clutched my towel closer to my body. “Oh...hey. I thought you were Declan.”
Her eyes wandered from my head to my toes. “You thought I was Declan, so you answered the door in your towel?”
Is she seriously judging me in my own damn house?
“No. I answered the door in my towel because I live here, and the bell rang when I’d just gotten out of the shower.”
“Of course.” She nodded and made her way into the apartment without being invited. “Where is Declan?” she asked, looking around suspiciously.
