E: True story. Are you sure the uncle isn’t the real reason why you’re stepping out of your comfort zone and going to this *party*?
B: I can’t deny that he’s a bonus, sexy scruff and all.
E: Ha. I knew it. You okay?
B: Not really. I’m freaking out. I changed my outfit like ten times and ended up choosing the safest and lamest summer dress I own. Do you remember the white eyelet dress with the empire waist? Yeah. That one. Gag.
E: I love that dress! You look super cute in it. And you’ll be okay, Blaire, just be yourself.
B: A self-serving bitch?
E: Nah. The self-serving bitch wouldn’t be on her way to Brooklyn to a kid’s party. Just be Blaire, the one you try so hard to hide.
B: To be continued … LOL.
E: You’ll be fine! Okay, I gotta go. I’m having lunch with this very cute guitar player I met last night and I’m ignoring him for you. Love ya.
B: Lunch? Yeah right. Don’t choke ;)
E: Pssh. Never. I swallow.
After I put my cell away in my brown leather satchel, I cross my legs as my bare skin glides over the plastic seat. Then I wrap myself in the protective cocoon of my arms, recline my head on the cool window glass, and stare ahead of me as we leave the city behind and head to Brooklyn. I watch as the view changes from subterranean blackness to a clear morning sky, buildings and cottony clouds replacing subway tiles and worn out posters. I tell myself to stop overanalyzing everything and just enjoy the day.
I’m standing outside a small house with a brick front and eggshell-colored shingles adorning the roof as I watch the gypsy cab that I’m pretty sure just ripped me off drive away. I shrug and turn to face the white wooden door as my eyes land on the gilded number four located under the peephole. I’m about to knock on the door when someone opens it. With my hand still hanging in mid-air, I watch as an older woman, maybe in her late sixties, smiles kindly at me.
“You must be Blaire. Ronan wasn’t exaggerating when he described you to us. You’re beautiful. I’m Allison, Ronan’s grandmother and Ollie’s great grandma. Anyway, come on in. The boys have been waiting for you.”
“The boys?”
She glances back and smirks impishly, reminding me of Ronan. “Yes, boys. One more so than the other, though.”
I blush, surmising the identity of both boys. “I’m so sorry for being this late. I got on the wrong train, only realizing it after it was moving and had to go back and change trains.” I pause to take a calming breath. “I’m never this distracted. I—”
“Oh, dear, don’t apologize. You know what they say … better late than never, right? Anyway, follow me. The party is in the backyard.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly, liking the silver-haired woman already, but even her kind eyes don’t soothe my nerves. I feel like I’m going to be sick with every step I take that brings me closer to all the boisterous sounds and laughter—and to him.
We walk past a faded but comfortable looking green couch and love seat, a worn out dining room table with a centerpiece made out of fake looking wild flowers, and an even smaller kitchen with an outdated stove and fridge. As I take in my surroundings, I notice how different our lifestyles are. Not that there’s anything wrong with what I see, but it isn’t what I’m used to.
As soon as she opens the backdoor, the hot summer air blasts us in the face and everyone turns to look at us, growing silent.
With sweaty palms and a dry mouth, I raise my chin pretending that all the stares and silence don’t bother me one bit, yet the pounding in my chest won’t let me fool myself. I’m uncomfortable and nervous underneath my expensive armor. No Gucci heel has been known to slay a dragon, after all.
I’m about to ask Allison for Ollie’s whereabouts, when I feel Ronan stand next to me before I see him. Without asking for my permission, he takes my hand possessively in his, like he owns it, and squeezes it once. He doesn’t say a word, and I don’t think it’s necessary. His warm touch is all the support I need. I lift my eyes to meet his and watch him smile reassuringly. It’s a sweet smile that softens his face, making him appear more beautiful than I remembered. A smile that makes me want to soar in the sky because no man has ever smiled at me like that.
“You came.”
Dispassionately, I notice that my hands are trembling a little. It could be due to nerves, or maybe it’s because Ronan’s gaze licks every inch of me as it travels down my body—checking me out unabashedly. It doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ronan has a way of crumbling my composure.
“Of course I did. I said I would, didn’t I?”
Allison coughs, reminding us that we’re not alone. “Ronan, show Blaire around and introduce her to the family. I’m going to go look for your sister and let Ollie know that she’s arrived. Here, let me take that for you,” she says, pointing at the plastic bag in my hand that holds Ollie’s gift.
“I didn’t know what to get him … there were so many toys and different collections, so I got him the entire set of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I remember watching that show as a kid and enjoying it, so I thought that he might too. Anyway, the gift receipt is there in case he wants to exchange it.”
She pats my shoulder softly. “Don’t worry, sweetie. He’ll love it,” she says to me before turning to look at Ronan and addressing him. “And you behave yourself, Ronan.”
We watch as she makes her way down the wooden stairs of the porch toward a green plastic patio table filled with presents. The table next to it is covered in all sorts of food including macaroni salad, coleslaw, and potato salad. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that people have resumed their conversations and aren’t looking our way anymore. As relief courses down my body, I turn to look at Ronan, and his eyes are already on me, watching me closely.
“You babble when you’re nervous, don’t you?”
I groan and close my eyes in frustration. “Yeah, and I hate it.”
“No, don’t … it’s cute. Endearing, actually.”
“You say that now. I’ll ask you again at the end of the party.”
Silence fills the space around us as we stare at each other, our smiles slowly fading.
“You look beautiful today,” he says hoarsely.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He lifts a hand and touches the hot crest of my cheek, the contact electrifying. “Why are you blushing?” I laugh. Does he really need to ask? “Don't tell me you're not used to compliments because I won’t believe it.”
I lift a hand and cover his with mine but don’t remove it. I’m not ready to lose the warmth of his touch. “No, it's not that. It's just the way you're staring at me. I can’t explain it without sounding weird.”
“Maybe I can explain it for you …” The space between us becomes a magnetic field where the vivid intensity of his gaze draws me in, incapacitating me from all coherent thought and movement. “When I look at you, I see something I really want. Something I need.”
All I can do is nod, releasing the breath that I didn’t know I was holding up until now. Ronan’s eyes crinkle at the corners, amusement making them sparkle. He totally knows he’s gotten to me. “How’s that for an explanation?”