Page 44 of Destined Lovers

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I review my list one last time to ensure I have everything I need. Packing for a trip in Ireland is like packing for four different destinations—you never know what weather you’ll get. Hell, you sometimes get all four seasons in one day. It’s miserable.

I check that my perfumes are wrapped safely and that all my art supplies are secured before I zip up my first bag.

In the second bag are my clothes, and that’s all done except for bras and panties. I’m hesitant to pack what I bought today.

I may or may not have picked some special pieces to bring. But do people really wear this shite?

I hold up one of the pieces to inspect… it’s lace, simple, and the perfect shade of green—his favorite.

I know what I see on the tele, but I have no one to ask about this stuff. I don’t have any girlfriends, and my mam is gone. I’d be mortified to ask Agnes, so I go with my gut and pack it.

It also just proves how inexperienced I am. And after the couch incident, I know more will happen—I can feel it all the way to my core every time his hungry eyes glare at me. Like it’s a promise.

Six days away together, I know we will barely last one. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it. I’ve waited my whole life for this moment, I saved myself for him, and Ineedit to be perfect.

I don’t want Declan to look at me as his Pip this week. I want him to see me as the Nora I’ve grown to be, not the one he knew as a kid.

This week I’m going to put my issues behind me, take Agnes’s advice, and run with it because I deserve a little happiness in my life. But most importantly, Declan deserves his best friend to give him the respect he deserves, and if I can’t give him the answers he needs yet, I can at least show him how much I still care for him unconditionally.

“Are you almost ready down there, Pip?”

“Aye, just about. Come down in five to help me with my bags, please,” I call back up the stairs.

I quickly scan my closet to throw on another outfit before he comes and settle on an oversized chunky wool maroon sweater, dark jeans, and flat boots that I pull over my knees.

I quickly braid my long hair in a low fish-tail braid, let some wispy pieces fall to frame my face, throw on some mascara and call it a day. But not before spritzing myself with one of Declan’s favorite scents.

I glance one more time at the lingerie I bought, deciding to pack two just in case, then zip up that bag just as I hear Declan’s footsteps descending the stairs to my apartment.

He stops frozen at the end of the steps when he sees me standing off to the side. His eyes roam my body again as if he didn’t just check me out upstairs, and a slight smirk makes its way onto his lips.

“You’re so beautiful. Do you know that? I just can’t get over how you’ve changed so much, and not at all at the same time.” I smile back, knowing exactly what he means. At times I’m saddened by the time apart, but on the other hand, it sometimes feels like it was just yesterday we were planning our future together.

“So this is your place?”

I nod, suddenly nervous for him to see my private area. I quickly look to make sure I hadn’t left out anything incriminating or embarrassing for him to find.

Declan walks around with the biggest smile. “What is it?” I ask.

“This place is so you. Lovely and whimsical with an added side of spice and color.” It’s an interesting description and weirdly spot-on. He keeps walking through the room, stopping at the one and only sentimental thing I keep in the apartment.

He doesn’t move for a second, only staring at the box, seemingly lost for words. He picks it up slowly, turns it over, and there clear as day, staring back at us, are our names etched in the bottom of the wooden music box.

His eyes meet mine, and he looks hopeful. “Can I open it?” he quietly asks.

“Mhmm.”

He walks to my bed and pats the top for me to come and join him, and although I want to hide away in a dark corner somewhere, I don’t. I walk over and sit next to him to take a walk down memory lane.

He leans over, places a quick kiss on my forehead, then slowly opens the box before placing it on the bed between us.

His eyes narrow, and he leans toward me again. “Why does that scent seem so familiar to me?”

“It’s patchouli. I used to always add this as a base for my perfumes growing up.”

“Oh,” he replies, seemingly lost in thought. “Well, I love it.”

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