Page 70 of Trying Sophie

“And your makeup,” my grandma added, circling a hand in front of her face.

I’d blown my hair dry and used a straightening iron to give it a few beachy waves, something I hadn’t done since I’d been here, and yes, I’d put on a little bit of makeup, but nothing fancy.

But then I understood. It’d been awhile since they’d seen me looking the way I normally did when I wasn’t here.

After only two days of working downstairs, I’d realized any eye shadow or mascara I wore made me look like a deranged raccoon by the end of the night, so I’d stopped wearing makeup altogether. After washing away the filth and stink of the pub each night, I’d taken to braiding my hair and letting it air dry into waves that I’d toss into a high bun or ponytail the following day.

To hear their compliments now, you’d think I’d gone all out—which I hadn’t. I just hoped Declan wouldn’t jump to the same conclusion.

“Good morning,” he greeted, knocking on the door jamb before popping his head through the opening.

“Come on in,” my grandpa answered, standing to welcome him.

Declan crossed the room and clasped my grandpa’s hand before kissing my grandma on the cheek.

“Do you want a cup of tea or some porridge?” she asked, happy at the prospect of him joining them for breakfast.

“No, thank you, Maureen. Not this morning. Next time though?”

Seeing how easily Declan slotted into their morning routine brought on a twinge of envy. It was an ugly response, but it made me feel like an interloper. But when Declan turned to me, I forgot all about those dark, sour thoughts.

“Good morning.” He notched his head to the side, his piercing eyes taking me in from head to toe. Then, a few heartbeats later, his lips hitched in a shy, tentative smile. “You ready to go?”

Suddenly all the nerves I’d experienced earlier came barreling back. Pushing them down with a strong shove, I said, “Good morning to you too. Just let me grab my purse and coat.”

When I made my way back to the kitchen, Declan was chatting with my family like it was no big deal.

Maybe because it’s not, I reminded myself. You’re the only one being an idiot about this.

Sometimes I didn’t know whether I hated that voice or if I thought she was the smartest, most rational part of me. What that said about me probably warranted more exploration, but at the moment the warring factions of my brain were the least of my concerns.

I had a non-date with the hottest man on the planet to get through first.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.”

* * *

Was there anything moreunsettling than being on a first date? If there was, I couldn’t think what it was.

Get it together Newport. This. Is. Not. A. Date.

So far we’d discussed the uncharacteristically fine weather Ireland was having, shared geographical observations on the drive into Dublin, and exhausted all other basic pleasantries and were now both quiet as we stared into our coffee mugs. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of those comfortable silences people tell you they find solace in. Nope. This was tense, discomfiting … the exact opposite of comfortable.

I cleared my throat, thinking to say something witty about said silence but when I went to speak, my mind was a blank, empty thing. Declan looked at me expectantly but I sat there like an imbecilic mute and shook my head.

“Relax,” he coaxed, reaching across the table as if to place his hand on top of mine, before stopping himself and pulling back.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, staring at his hand resting on the stained Formica.

Taking in another breath and counting to three, I glanced back up. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous. You’d think I’d never been alone with a man before.”

I let out a small, self-deprecating laugh.

I was a 26-year-old woman, not some naïve 16-year-old girl on her first date with the captain of the football team. Declan wasn’t the first man I’d spent time with, nor would he be the last. And—again—this wasn’t a date. I had absolutely nothing to be anxious about.

“Tell me more about how I make you nervous,” he responded, devilry in his words.

“Oh shut it. You probably make all women nervous.”

---