I turned towards the Irishman with shock all over my face. “You know each other?”
Jamie shook his head. “No. But my father’s in the army. We saw the story on the television. How you saved a school from being bombed. You’re a fucking hero.”
He sprung up and shook Declan’s hand. “A selfie for my dad?” he asked, acting all cute, and Declan, who was just as speechless as me, nodded hesitantly.
Lucy jumped up. “Here, I’ll take it.”
What the fuck?
Declan stood next to his new fan and smiled. Dressed in black jeans, a pale-blue fitted shirt, and a honey-coloured blazer, he belonged more on the cover of Man Beautiful than in an Irish pub filled with ordinary people like me.
It dawned on me. What would he do with someone like me? I was more that pub than posh.
After Jamie stopped gushing, Declan turned to me. “I was just walking past when I noticed you.”
I remained flummoxed. All that stuff about him being a hero and the fuss had left me speechless.
Come on speak. Remember A, B, C?
At this point, I wanted everyone gone. Instead, Declan’s ridiculously deep blue eyes impaled me, because it seemed as though he was fucking me. Or was that just a memory of the morning when he looked at me that same way while his dick burned into me?
Time stood still. And what’s worse, everyone seemed to be staring at us.
“I went shopping. Um… this is Lucy, a good friend of mine.”
Lucy lifted her hand. “Hey there. Lovely to meet you.”
“This is Declan, my boss.” I felt obligated to introduce him to the men at our table. “Of course you know because you’ve seen him on television…” I babbled away.
Put me out of my misery now.
“I best leave you to it, then,” Declan said, his eyes moving from me to Jamie.
He thinks I’m with Jamie. Fuck.