Do his friends notice how unhappy he is, or are they blinded by the plastic smiles?
My eyes rarely stray from his table the entirety of lunch service.
Where’s the smile from our picnic? The one that stole my breath away?
He spends another ten minutes at the table, chatting quietly with Henry, before he rises and collects the wagon. None of his teammates bat an eye when he excuses himself, and for a split second, anger strikes my chest.
They’re all so caught up in their worlds, they can’t see what’s right in front of them.
But maybe I see it more easily than most, because when I needed someone, there was no one to be found.
There is something gut-wrenching about the look on his face when our gaze connects, and when he exits the ballroom, I’m hot on his heels, intercepting him before he reaches the elevator.
“Declan!” He pauses in front of the elevator in the lobby of the hotel, but doesn’t say anything.
We stare at each other for a long moment, and my choice to chase him down is validated when his slumped shoulders straighten and his lips tip up into a disingenuous smile. He can hide behind the smile, but he can’t conceal what’s swimming in his eyes: Disappointment.
I’ve seen it enough in the mirror to recognize the old friend.
“Are you alright?” I ask when the silence grows uncomfortable.
His eyes flicker across my skin, and then the mask falls, and the heartache reappears. The question breaks the dam holding Declan’s words back.
“They all asked me to give them their boxes, but no one got me a box. And it shouldn’t upset me, but it does because they all thought about them, but no one thought about me except to give them the boxes.”
How long has he been waiting for someone to ask him if he’s okay?
I can’t spend too long on the thought because he continues.
“My feelings are hurt,” he says, mostly to himself, “They had me help plan the boxes and then surprise each of them, but no one thought, ‘I wonder if Declan would want a box?’”
That was the most confusing run-on sentence I’ve heard recently, and Nora loves to go on long storytelling tangents where she just talks and talks with no end in sight.
“Box?”
He looks up, slightly surprised, like he’d forgotten I was standing right in front of him.
“Jack, Henry, and Deon’s wives made them care packages for camp. I helped pack them at Book Club and then brought them here so they would all be surprised.” His voice drops. “I-I thought maybe they would surprise me, too.”
My heart cracks at the disappointment on Declan’s face.
I haven’t seen him since our picnic in the park after my date from hell, but there’s something about him that reminds me of Nora—so full of emotion, but struggles to process it all, and doesn’t know how to put a word on what he’s feeling. I think now might be one of those moments where he can’t process on his own.
“I’m sorry. I know—”
“They didn’t mean to upset me,” he blurts, like I’m ready to lay down judgment on his friends.
“But they did.” I don’t know what part of my brain possesses me to lay a hand on his arm—the cavewoman who wants to know how his muscles feel or the friend who is worried about him—but when I touch him, his muscles melt.
“I didn’t think anyone noticed,” he says, shrugging like it’s not a big deal that his friends didn’t recognize he’s upset.
“I noticed.” He gulps, but says nothing, and the energy surrounding us grows heavy. “I’m here—if you need someone to talk to.”
I make the offer, and I mean every word. There was no one around to talk to when I needed to just let it all out—vent until the weight was light enough to stand again. We may be coworkers, and maybe he doesn’t see me as anything more than one of the nutritionists, but I can be his friend, even if he isn’t mine.
I’m wrapped in a tight hug before I can register his movement, and the embrace is comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold night. It’s over far too quickly for my liking, but when he smiles again, it’s a real one. Small and unsure, but genuine. The sight of it feels like a victory somehow.
“You’re a good person, Addie. Easy to talk to.”