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In the foyer, I can see that Nora’s taste in decor is a little more old-fashioned than Declan’s. While he prefers streamlined, modern minimalism, her home is more of a living space—full of antiques and mis-matched, although expensive-looking, furniture pieces.
She greets us cheerfully at the door. “Declan! Oh, you’re right on time! Come in, come in.”
“Hi, Gran,” he says—somewhat stiffly—as he leans down to give her a one-armed hug. As they hug, I can feel Nora’s eyes on me—friendly, but curious.
I stand awkwardly by, my hands folded, and wait for Declan’s cue.
He straightens, then gestures to me. “You’ve met my girlfriend before.”
Girlfriend. He went straight for it. My face is hot again. I’m certain my cheeks must be bright red.
Nora’s face breaks into an open, delighted grin, and she echoes my thoughts. “Girlfriend! Really?”
“That’s right.” Declan nods.
Nora reaches out to shake my hand. She seems thrilled, staring at me like she can’t quite believe her eyes, smiling from ear to ear. “Let’s see… you’re Sophie, right? Oh, I thought there was something going on between the two of you.”
“Well,” I admit as I release her bony hand, “it wasn’t going on at the time. This is pretty new.”
Nora glances over her shoulder at her grandson. “Have you finally found a woman who can put up with you?” Her voice is gentle, teasing.
I half expect Declan’s hackles to rise at that—in the office, nobody would dare speak to him that way—but his face falls into a relaxed smile. This kind of lighthearted ribbing must be something he’s used to from his grandmother.
Nora turns back to me. “You must be a saint, Sophie.”
I laugh and shrug. “Honestly, it’s felt like a dream so far,” I say. “I’m the lucky one.”
“You hear that? She’s a keeper, Declan. And such a charming young woman.” Nora reaches out to pat me on the arm. “It was a pleasure to meet you again. Please, both of you—come inside, get something to eat. Almost everyone is here already.”
Declan sweeps me into the living room with a light hand on my hip. The party is in full swing already, and at least thirty people are here, milling around with cocktails.
“We aren’t late, are we?” I ask, glancing around. I keep having to stop myself from staring at people’s clothes, at the artwork on the walls—original oil paintings, lovingly displayed in gorgeous, hand-carved frames. “Just seems like a lot of people are here.”
“No, don’t worry,” Declan says. “Not everyone is here yet.”
Content with that, I allow Declan to escort me over to the drink table. He pours himself a whiskey, then glances at me.
“What’ll it be?”
“Well,” I say slyly, “what would you recommend? Does your grandmother have anything particularly good?”
He picks up the bottle, inspecting the label, then turns it to show it to me. “I’ve never had this one before, but I’m confident it’ll be good.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“You think my grandmother would drink a sub-par bourbon?”
That gets a chuckle out of me. “No. I guess not.”
He pours me a glass, then hands it to me, lifting his own. He swirls the liquor around for a moment under his nose before taking a sip, his gaze focused on the opposite side of the room.
I glance over in that direction, and see two guys standing beside a high table, making eyes over at us. At Declan, really, but also at me. Curious, like Nora was, and more than a little disbelieving. There’s a woman standing next to one of them too, nursing a glass of white wine.
They’re all ridiculously hot. One of them is leaning over the table, his stance comfortable. He’s hunched over, but I can still tell that he’s tall, maybe even taller than Declan. He looks like a model. Dimples, brown eyes, carefully-styled hair, perfect features.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him somewhere before. Maybe on a magazine cover? I tilt my head to the side, then manage to place him. Paparazzi photos on the front cover of a grocery store tabloid. That’s Reed Eastwood, the famous hotel chain heir and infamous ladies man.
The auburn-haired girl he’s with leans over to whisper something in his ear, wearing a bored scowl. She’s dressed to the nines, and all of my fears about being underdressed come surging back. I have to look around the room to convince myself that I made the right choice of attire.
