“At least he’s proud of you becoming manager?” I offer, shrugging.
Declan laughs with a jolt of his chin. “Right. Manager.”
“Why is that funny?” The words trickle out like a broken faucet.
“Oh.” He jerks his eyes up to mine. “I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I was the owner?”
“Of the coffee shop?”
“Yes, Blair.” He chuckles. The sound is light and sweet. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head, feeling bamboozled. Which, at this point, was difficult to achieve.
“Wait, but…” I lean back. “Everyone refers to you as the manager?”
“Because I am. But I am also the proud owner.” He grins ironically, straightening up and smoothing out his shirt like that should make it more obvious.
I laugh from shock, propping my elbows onto the table between us.
“Okay, wait.” I wave my hands. “So, now you have to tell me how that happened.”
He laughs so hard that the space between his temple and cheek pinch together, and the sight makes me bite the inside of my cheek. He mirrors me and puts his elbows on the table, leaning in.
“Well, after moving into the house and starting renovations, I still had some cash from the lawsuit to start something with.” He motions with his hands like he’s outlining a blueprint on the table. “And going to college felt too painful if I couldn’t play football. So, I mapped out some of my interests and figured: ‘Okay, I really enjoy building things, but I also want to work on a team.’?” He relays it like he’s narrating his inner monologue. It’s so cute and boyish that I grin. “And then, one evening, I was strolling through downtown when I saw a for-sale sign on a run-down property. I pictured myself opening a coffee shop the second I stepped inside. So, I put an offer in, got it, and then just dove in full force and figured it out as I went. And here we are.” He smiles a soft smile that makes me go warm inside.
I sit back in the booth, convinced only Declan would be capable of being so successful without hinting at it, even the tiniest bit. I’ve been working under him all summer and he never walked around the place like the owner.
“And you love it?” I ask.
“Oh yeah. So much. I get to lead a team. I’m familiar with all the regulars now. And anytime I get some whacky idea, I can build it and add whatever I want to the shop.”
“Like the birdhouses,” I marvel.
“Exactly. Like the weird birdhouses.” He beams with pride.
“What are the metal wheels on the side of them?” I ask. I’ve been wondering since the first day I walked into Seabrook Coffee House.
His mouth quirks to the side. “I’m shocked you noticed that. They’re pieces of a disassembled clock.”
I shake my head in reverent disbelief. “You are the world’s most unassuming nerd, Declan. And you’re just hiding in plain sight.”
He morphs into a look of fake outrage, dropping his mouth. “Oh please. Sounds like a classic case of the kettle calling the pot black here.”
“It’s the pot calling the kettle black,” I correct.
“My point exactly. You’re a little nerd too. I’ve never seen a person more enthused by a dictionary before.” His elbows already on the table, he leans in closer to me. I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it.
“Okay? Says the guy who just used the word ‘enthused’ to insult a girl who likes looking up synonyms,” I counter in a dry tone. “It’s a writer thing.”
“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows. “Look who’s admitting she wants to be a writer now.”
I roll my eyes and look away.
“Okay, well, that leads to my next question,” I deflect.
