Felix Ever After(77)

Declan’s voice cracks a little, and before I can look at his eyes to see if he’s crying, he’s rubbing them furiously, not meeting my gaze.

“I’m sorry, Declan,” I tell him. “I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

He shakes his head and rubs a hand through his wet curls, darker in the water. “Not your fault. And I’m better now anyway, you know? I’m lucky I have my granddad. Not everyone has that.”

A chilly breeze sends us back inside, and as soon as we’re in the mudroom, Tully’s voice calls, letting us know that it’s almost time for dinner.

Shit. I suddenly get nervous that I’m about to have dinner in a mansion. I didn’t really bring fancy shirts or anything, so I put on my least-wrinkled, floral-patterned T-shirt and some shorts and make my way down the hall and to the dining room, where Declan and his grandpa are already waiting. Tully is super into hugs. He gives both of us one and gestures at us to sit and eat.

We sit. There’s baked bread, kale salad with balsamic vinaigrette, pasta with pesto and Parmesan cheese. “I used to cook for fun,” Tully explains. “Now that it’s mostly me here alone, not as much anymore.”

He gives us wine and asks me questions. How’d I meet his grandson? How is St. Catherine’s? Which college do I think I’ll apply to? I hesitate, glancing at Declan, who takes a deep breath and looks away. That’s one thing we haven’t really spoken about. We’re still both applying to Brown. Still going after the same scholarship. I know Declan’s grandpa is retired, and according to Declan is barely getting by on his savings. He’d offered to sell the house to help pay for Declan’s tuition, but Declan wouldn’t let him. I understand that. I probably would’ve done the same thing, too.

Declan clears his throat. “Give Felix a break from the interrogation,” he says.

“I have to know if this boy is good enough for you,” he says, but he gets the hint and starts telling us instead about his life growing up in Dublin, swimming by the lake, falling in love for the first time. “This was many, many years before your grandmother,” he says to Declan. “Her name was Kathleen. I loved her, loved her more than I’ve ever loved before. Yes, even more than your grandmother. Oh, don’t you look at me like that. Kathleen was the love of my life. There’s no shame in saying that. There was a fire there that I’ve never felt again. A fire that I’ll never feel again. But, just because we loved each other, doesn’t mean we were meant to be together. We would fight just as much as we—”

“Please,” Declan interrupts. “Please, don’t say it.”

“—made love,” his grandfather says, as if Declan hadn’t spoken at all, and ignores him when Declan hides his face in his hands. “We loved each other so much, but we weren’t made to be in a relationship. And just because you love one, doesn’t mean you can’t love another. Isn’t that right?” he asks us, and doesn’t demand an answer when neither of us respond.

By the time we’re finished eating, we’re all pretty drunk and sleepy and ready for bed. Tully gives Declan a kiss and a long hug. He whispers something in Declan’s ear, patting his cheek before he comes to me and gives me a hug, too. He’s warm and smells like pepper.

“Treat my boy right,” he tells me, patting my cheek also with a smile, before he tells us good night, leaving us alone in the dining room.

I notice Declan’s eyes are a little wet. He wipes them with his shoulders.

“You okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. He’s just being a good granddad, you know?”

Declan walks me to my room, down the mahogany hallway, wood panels cold beneath my bare feet. Instead of leaning against the doorframe of the guest bedroom like he had before, he comes inside, sitting on the bed beside me.

“Thanks for inviting me up here,” I tell him. “I think I needed a break from the city without even realizing it. The city, and . . .” I almost say Ezra’s name.

Turns out I don’t need to. “I noticed you two aren’t really talking,” Declan says.

“Yeah. Well, things are awkward.”

“Because you kissed?” he asks, voice low.

I nod, glancing away, feeling guilty. We might not have said we’re dating, and that we’re only seeing each other, but I can tell Declan’s hurt, can tell he feels betrayed. It’s like all I’ve ever done, even before he told me he loved me, is hurt him. “Things aren’t great between us right now.”

“I can’t say I feel bad about it,” Declan tells me. “It’s a little hard, I guess, not to feel jealous.”

“We’re not together,” I say. “Me and Ezra, I mean.”

“No, but he loves you,” Declan says. He watches me, like he’s waiting for me to agree with him—to admit that I have feelings for Ezra, too. But I’m not sure if I can—not sure how I feel. I mean, I love Ezra—of course I love Ezra—but do I love him as a friend, or as something else?

“I think what your grandpa said might’ve been right.”

“You really want to talk about my grandfather right now?” Declan asks.

He’s watching me again. I’ve never seen anyone look at me like that—so unabashedly, so unapologetically, so like he doesn’t give a fuck that I know he wants me, like he’s almost laughing at me, because he knows I want him, too.