Declan didn’t look at her as he reached across the island and refilled her wine glass. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘We’re down one ballet dancer at tonight’s festivities,’ she continued. ‘That wouldn’t have anything to do with your peppy mood, hmm?’
‘He’s not coming,’ Declan said, staring into the empty cocktail shaker in front of him.
Imogen sighed. ‘You can’t give up,’ she said, putting a hand on his arm. Declan pulled away and poured bourbon into his glass distractedly.
‘He obviously doesn’t want to see me,’ he said, taking a sip and enjoying the burn down his throat. ‘And I don’t blame him.’
Imogen looked like she wanted to say more, but he left before she could get another word in. He chose a spot between Jack and Owen, determined to do a better job of hiding his heartbreak.
‘So, how’s the new place?’ he asked Jack, trying for a smile.
‘It’s a shoebox,’ Jack said. ‘Even winning £50,000, I’m still on a teacher’s salary.’
‘He’s being modest,’ Maeve cut in. ‘He’s been promoted to head of the English department at his school.’
Jack grinned. ‘Yes, well,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t come with much of a raise, but it does come with an office that’s bigger than my new flat, so…’
Declan laughed as the doorbell rang over the blare of the music. Maeve popped up from her spot on the floor and yelled out, ‘Coming!’
‘You’ll have to have me ov—’
‘Well, look who finally decided to show,’ Jack interrupted, and Declan turned to see a damp Oliver walking into the room. The group met him with shouts of welcome.
‘Hey,’ Oliver said, waving as Maeve grabbed his jacket, shuffling him more firmly into the room. ‘Sorry, got caught in the rain.’
‘You just didn’t want to face my wrath after trying to steal my girl. Not cool, bro,’ Jack said, pulling him into a hug.
‘You caught me,’ Oliver deadpanned, finally glancing at Declan. He wished he could tell what Oliver was thinking, but besides an awkward smile, he gave Declan nothing to go on.
‘This one’s just been to visit Niall,’ Jack said, grabbing Owen and tugging him over to Oliver. Declan lost the end of his sentence as the others restarted conversations around him.
He watched Oliver laugh at something Owen said, then looked away quickly, feeling self-conscious. As he scanned the rest of the group, hoping no one had seen him staring, he made eye contact with Imogen, whose eyebrows were so raised they practically blended into her hairline. She nodded pointedly towards Oliver.
Declan stood before he could think better of it, walking over to where Oliver was talking with Jack and Owen.
‘His sister, she’s absolutely obsessed…’ Owen was saying, but trailed off as Declan came to stand between him and Jack.
‘Sorry,’ Declan said uncomfortably.
‘We were talking about Niall and Stella,’ Oliver said to Declan.
‘How are they?’ Declan asked.
‘Grand,’ Owen said. ‘They’ve moved in together already, you know.’
‘Wow,’ Declan said, still looking at Oliver.
‘Shocking, isn’t it?’ Jack said, grinning. ‘How many of us managed to find love in the madhouse?’ He was looking at Owenas he said it, no doubt making a light-hearted jab, but Declan was worried that his expression gave away everything.
There was an excruciating moment of silence as Declan stared at Oliver’s hands, noticing they were empty and seizing on the excuse. ‘Want a drink?’
‘Yeah, thanks,’ Oliver said, following Declan to the kitchen.
He leaned against the counter as Declan got to work, slicing an orange and dropping sugar and bitters into the shaker. They were closer together than they’d been in weeks, and Declan was having trouble breathing. He caught the scent he’d come to associate with Oliver, earthy and sweet, and he closed his eyes for a moment. He fiddled with the muddler, doing a shoddy job of mimicking Holly’s technique, his limbs moving unnaturally.
‘How are you?’ Declan’s voice came out rough.
