Page 136 of Trying Sophie

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Sophie

Tappingmy pen against my lips, I flicked my eyes between my calendar and the website on my laptop. I’d spent the past week reaching out to my contacts about press junkets and had managed to secure two opportunities in January. All I had to do now was figure out which one I wanted to take, sign the contract, and book a one-way ticket out of here.

If I went on the Jamaican resort-hopper tour set up by an all-inclusive hotel chain that specialized in luxury, adults-only resorts in the Caribbean, I’d be gone as early as January 6. But if I joined the “Winter in the Alps for Non-Skiers” trip my friend Tom had finagled invitations to, I’d have to stay in Ballycurra until the end of the month. I looked back at my calendar and considered the timing of each—early January versus late.

Between the implosion of my relationship with Declan and my grandfather’s increasingly stubborn stance on making improvements to the pub, the earlier departure was the better option, certainly. But I wasn’t convinced going the all-inclusive route was something I wanted to tackle, especially by myself, while a week in the Alps with Tom would be a riot. But … I’d been freezing for weeks now so maybe jetting off to the warm waters of the Caribbean was exactly what I needed Especially if it got me out of here that much quicker.

Three weeks. Twenty-one days. It couldn’t come soon enough.

Biting the bullet, I accepted the invite and shut the screen on my laptop. Taking a deep breath, I leaned back against the headboard and closed my eyes.

Right then, time to move on Sophie.

That absolutely was not a tear cascading down my cheek.

* * *

The next nightI worked behind the bar while the sound of chatter and gossip wove around me, the din of many individual voices and laughs paired with the clinking of silverware and the tinkling of glasses mingling into one long sound that had become the soundtrack of my life. I’d gotten so good at letting that cacophony drown out my inner monologue that I’d gone four whole hours without once thinking about Declan. Okay, not really, but settling into my groove back here—smiling, waving, pouring, and serving—made it look like I wasn’t obsessing over him, which was almost equally as important since word had gotten out we’d broken up and I was being watched like a hawk.

I’d been so focused on studiously avoiding those marked stares that I was surprised when Siobhan flitted behind the bar to tell me I had a guest at one of the front tables. Her eyes sparking with mischief, I tried not to let my hope show. Even though it’d been days since I’d heard from Declan, hearing there was someone waiting to see me made my heart beat a little bit faster.

“Take over for me back here?” I asked, wiping damp palms against my thighs.

She surveyed the room. “Yeah, alright. All of my tables are okay for now.”

As we slid past one another, Siobhan laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s not him sweetie.”

“Oh, I didn’t …” I started to speak. “He’s not … We’re not.” Shit, I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

“It’s okay,” she mused. “Your eyes kind of gave it away.”

“No really,” I protested weakly. But why bother? She’d been right. And she’d been kind about being right, not at all smug as she could have been. Like I expected her to be.

For days I’d been waiting for questions like “Well, what did you expect?” or comments like “I told you so,” but so far most everyone had remained tight-lipped about me about Declan. Likely waiting for me to break down first, I thought, as I watched one woman’s head flick back around when she saw me catch her staring.

Deflated but curious, I crossed the pub to see who my visitor was. I didn’t know anyone outside of Ballycurra, and even if I did, it’s not like I was expecting company. The thought was a sad one and I felt very lonely all of a sudden. Lonely and very surprised when I saw it was Aoife O’Shaughnessy waiting for me. I didn’t know Declan’s little sister that well, but I recognized her straight away. She would have been hard to miss since Declan had told me she’d dyed her short blonde pixie cut a shocking shade of bubblegum pink.

My heart clenched painfully as I recalled other whispered conversations that had stretched long into the night, ones where we’d confided in each other all the ways we’d failed or disappointed our families. While I’d done my best never to judge Declan for the things he’d done before we met, his mom and sister hadn’t been so diplomatic on the subject.

Pushing my nerves aside, I smiled as I approached. When Aoife stood, I extended my hand in greeting. “Aoife, so nice to see you again. I wasn’t expecting you.”

She shook it perfunctorily and sat back down, eyes blazing. “What have you done to my brother?” Arms crossed, she waited for my answer.

Okay, no pleasantries then.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know it was you who broke his heart.” She pointed her finger at me accusingly.

Confused, I leaned back and studied her, trying to get a handle on what was happening. Aoife was a tiny little slip of a thing—so much different from her brother’s hulking frame—but right now it looked like she wanted to murder me and, despite her size, would likely succeed.

The idea that Declan had a champion in the little sprite started to bring a smile to my face, but my grin faltered when I realized what she’d accused me of.

“Wait, I broke your brother’s heart?”

“Well, if not you, then who?” she shot back angrily.

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