Then I spent twenty minutes on makeup, trying to achieve the perfect balance of being naturally glowing, and that said, she definitely had her life together.
If I were going to humiliate myself, I might as well look good doing it.
At 1:45, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, giving myself a pep talk that felt more like battle preparation.
“You can do this,” I told my reflection. “You organized events in college. You managed marketing campaigns that actually succeeded, before everything went wrong. You know this town, you know these people, and you are not going to let Declan Hayes see you fail.”
My reflection looked skeptical.
“Fine,” I amended. “You’re going to try really hard not to let Declan Hayes see you fail. And if you do fail, you’ll fail with dignity and excellent hair.”
At least my hair did look good. I’d managed to blow-dry it into waves that looked effortless but actually required forty-five minutes of careful styling. Small victories.
I grabbed my purse, my coat, and what remained of my dignity, and headed downstairs to face whatever fresh humiliation awaited me at the Everdale Falls Community Center.
“You look lovely, sweetheart,” Mom said as I passed through the kitchen. “Declan is going to be so impressed.”
“I’m not trying to impress Declan,” I lied. “I’m trying to look like someone who can organize a festival without everything catching fire.”
“Same thing,” Mom said with a knowing smile that made me want to flee back upstairs.
The drive to the community center took exactly four minutes, which wasn’t nearly enough time to complete my mentalpreparation but was definitely long enough to second-guess every choice I’d made in the last forty-eight hours.
I sat in the parking lot for three full minutes, watching other cars arrive and trying to work up the courage to walk inside. Mrs. Peterson’s ancient Buick. The Johnsons’ pickup truck. And then, because my life was apparently determined to test my emotional resilience, Declan’s expensive car pulled into the space directly next to mine.
He got out of his car looking like he’d stepped off the pages of a catalog for successful young professionals. Dark wool coat perfectly fitted jeans, the kind of casual confidence that came from knowing you were unfairly hot and successful.
I took a deep breath, checked my lipstick one more time, and got out of my car before I could lose my nerve completely.
“Holly,” he said, and his smile was warm and genuine and completely free of the pity I’d been dreading. “Perfect timing.”
“Hi,” I managed, proud that my voice sounded relatively normal. “Ready for this?”
“As ready as anyone can be for festival planning with Mrs. Peterson,” he said, falling into step beside me as we walked toward the building. “Fair warning—I did some research on previous years, and apparently, we’re responsible for everything from vendor coordination to making sure the Christmas tree doesn’t fall over.”
“Everything?” I repeated, my stomach dropping.Research? He researched this?I’m doomed.
“According to the committee notes I found online, yes. But don’t worry—I figure between your organizational skills and my complete inability to say no to community volunteers, we’ve got this covered.”
The casual way he mentioned my organizational skills, made me narrow my eyes. How does he know about any of my skills?
“Your complete inability to say no?” I jibed instead of asking the question burning on my tongue.
“How do you think I ended up volunteering for this in the first place?” he said, grinning at me with the kind of self-deprecating humor that made him seem less intimidatingly perfect and more like someone I could actually work with.
“I thought Matt might’ve had something to do with it.”
He paused at the community center door, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “I think we’ll make a good team.”
“I hope so,” I said, and for the first time since Mom’s announcement that morning, I actually meant it.
Declan held the door open for me, and as we walked into the community center together, I realized that maybe being volunteered for festival planning wasn’t the disaster I’d assumed it would be.
It might actually be exactly what I needed.
Seven
DECLAN
