Page 16 of One Night Only
I force a smile. “Uh-huh.”
She squeezes my arm as she leaves and I try not to grab her hand again. Declan watches me from across the room as if he knows all I want to do is race after her. Which, okay I do want to do, but I’m not going to kick up a fuss on the first night.
As if reading my thoughts, Declan raises his drink in a mock salute and I force myself to move before I can change my mind, winding around the heavy wooden tables, straight toward him. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as I approach, cradling his now empty glass as he sits back in his chair, the picture of relaxation.
“Mam thinks you have excellent posture,” is all he says when I reach his side. “And you’re an architect. That’s up there with medicine or law in her books.”
I drag my chair out from under the table. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“One of us has to.” But his tone grows unsure. “You can’t think I planned it.”
“Of course not.”
There’s no way. He looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. And who could have predicted this? The biggest coincidence we should share is having the same birthday or bumping into each other on the subway. Not being in the same wedding party. Not having his mom trying toset us up. I fight down a sudden wave of embarrassment at Mary’s romantic plan. Though I feel a little better remembering he looked as ambushed as I felt. Maybe we can work together on this. It’s not like we have to turn it into athing.
“Look,” I begin quietly. “Obviously, neither of us knew this was going to happen. If I’d known you were Paul’s brother, I would never have—”
“Slept with me?”
I rear back, checking to see if anyone was in earshot. “Could you keep your voice down?”
“I’m sorry we didn’t get into our family histories,” he says as I snap my napkin onto my lap. “But from what I recall you weren’t too interested in talking the last time we met.”
A woman squeezes past our chairs, tempering my response. “I would appreciate it if you could be cool about this,” I say once she’s gone. “At least for the dinner. I need to make a good impression for Annie’s sake.”
He laughs at that. “What do you think I’m going to do?”
“I mean it. Please, Declan.”
His eyes shoot to mine, one finger tracing the rim of the glass.
“What?” I ask, exasperated when he doesn’t respond.
“Nothing. I just like the way you say my name.”
“Your name?”
“I kind of wish I got you to say it the other night now.”
“Oh my God.”
“Now youdidsay that. Several times if I remember correctly.”
I give him my darkest look and he raises his hands, palms facing me. “No need to stab me with the butter knife. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
I’m beginning to suspect we have very different interpretations of what that means but other than pleading a headache and making an escape, I don’t really have a choice.
I watch silently as a waiter approaches with not one but two more glasses of whiskey. At first, I think Declan had ordered one for me but that idea soon flies out the window as he immediately draws the two glasses close to his plate.
“Are you planning on getting drunk tonight?”
“Planning?”
“Let me rephrase,” I say flatly. “Areyou drunk?”
He pinches his thumb and forefinger together in response.
“Perfect,” I mutter.
