Grabbing Anna’s leather notebook from the counter, I shove it at her. “I don’t care about the wedding. Call Anna. The bet is off.”
Blaire slams the notebook on the table. “What about you?”
“I need to get out of here,” I growl.
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know,” I reply as I dash out of the kitchen toward my room. She is on my heels, following me up the stairs.
“But aren’t you going to stop him?” she asks frantically, and it almost makes me laugh. A woman I shared a drink with in a pub and ghosted the morning after has suddenly become my closest friend.
“Don’t you see?” I reply. “I can’t. I have to let Colin make up his own mind.”
“Declan,” she says from the doorway of my bedroom.
“What?” I ask, pulling my suitcase from under my bed.
“Talk to him.”
“And say what?” I ask with a laugh. “Sorry about being an arsehole seven years ago but now that you have your own life, I was wondering if you would throw all of that away and give me another chance? Besides, Colin knows where I stand.”
“That guy he’s marrying is a prick, and you know it.”
I do know it. “I have no right…”
“Yes, you do,” Blaire argues. “You’re his best friend, and correct me if I’m wrong, but the love of hisfuckinglife.”
“Iwashis best friend,” I mumble despondently. “And Iwasthe love of his life. But I fucked it up once, and I’d surely fuck it up again. Besides, I tried. I showed him everything this morning. I made it very clear…”
Didn’t I? Was it clear enough?
Fuck, why am I so bad at this?
“Listen,” she says, stepping into the room. “I have been watching you two the past six days. The love between you is still there. I can see it. You’re just both bitter and chafed about something that happened a long time ago. Don’t throw away your chance for true happiness because you’re a stubborn arse.”
“You don’t understand,” I say through the pain.
“Okay, try me.” She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe.
“I’d be a terrible boyfriend. I’m not good at being romantic or transparent. I have no business being in a relationship. Colin would be better off marrying that American arsehole.”
Blaire tilts her head and glares at me. “You don’t really mean that.”
“Okay, you’re right, I don’t mean that, but he’d better off with someone else.”
“Why? Because you don’t know how to say romantic things and wouldn’t buy him flowers? Do you hear yourself? Do you truly think someone else could love him more than you do?”
“No,” I reply without hesitation.
“Then bloody tell him that. Fight for him, you idiot!”
“Fine!” I shout in return.
“Thank you! Tonight, at that bloody stag do, you’re going to waltz in there and take your goddamn man back.”
“All right!” I bellow.
“And you’re going to stop it with all of this second-guessing bull shite!”
