But every time I glanced over my shoulder after snapping a picture of a tangle of mossy limbs or a single dandelion amongst tall wild grasses, I found Declan not huffing or sighing with his arms crossed over his chest, but gazing at me with the strangest expression. I couldn’t quite figure out what it was as he looked away immediately when I caught him. It took me the whole hike to piece it together from stolen glances.

  There was a softness to his features as he looked at me, the hard lines gentled and smoothed. He didn’t seem to be searching for anything, asking for anything, demanding anything, or expecting anything. As we neared the lookout point, it appeared more and more clear to me that the way Declan looked at me was the same way I was looking at the trees, flowers, streams, and birds I wanted to photograph along the path: I simply wanted to admire them.

  I didn’t want to change them or alter them or take anything from them. I didn’t want to pluck a flower to keep in a vase beside my bed. I just wanted to be near it, in that quiet, sweet moment.

  Maybe I was crazy. Probably. Likely. But I thought perhaps this was the way Declan was looking at me. Maybe it was the way…I hoped Declan was looking at me.

  The path ascended to a small grassy peak with a full view of the lush land surrounding the manor. We were greeted with a clear blue sky and a rare merry sun as we laid out the blanket and arranged the various picnic foods. I, of course, kicked off my shoes the first chance I had. I never in a million years expected Declan to do the same.

  “Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?” I asked him after a few quiet moments.

  “I said not a word,” he grumbled.

  I watched a pair of hawks circle in the blue sky above while trying to hold back a grin. Finally, I couldn’t stop myself and added, “Imagine what else I’m right about.”

  Declan pushed himself up from his elbows and reached for his shoes.

  I laughed, quickly stopping him. “No, no, I’ll stop,” I said. “I’ll stop.”

  Declan eyed me warily and hesitantly reclined again.

  Again, I thought I maybe, just maybe, I saw the corner of his lips raise just the teeniest, tiniest bit. But again, maybe I was just crazy.

  “This has to be the most beautiful spot in all of Ireland.” I sighed happily as I tore off another chunk of baguette warmed by the sun.

  Declan scoffed.

  “What?” I turned to him.

  “Have you seen all of Ireland?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  He rolled over to face me. “Then please do tell me, how could you possibly say this is the most beautiful place in all of Ireland?”

  I grinned. “I just know.”

  Declan’s eyes narrowed at me.

  I laughed. “I just do,” I insisted. “In my heart, I just know it.”

  Declan rolled his eyes.

  I crossed my arms defiantly and asked, “What can you trust if not your heart?”

  Declan shook his head. “You going to quit this job and go write pretty little cards for Hallmark, hippie girl?”

  Grumbling under my breath, I ignored him and instead focused on the breathtaking view. “I’m going to travel all of Ireland just to prove you wrong,” I said. “Then I can say my heart knew this spot was the most beautiful.”

  Declan sent me a sarcastic thumbs up. “Good luck with that.”

  I clenched my fists in frustration. “Surely your wife saw more of Ireland than me,” I argued. “What did she say?” I realised too late that I shouldn’t have mentioned Giselle. The words just came out. Shit. I deserved a kick in the shin for that.

  Declan was silent as he rolled back away from me and stared up at the blue sky with his hands behind his head. I was considering how to apologise when he spoke first.

  “She never came up here,” he admitted.

  I looked over at him in confusion. “What?”

  “Can’t hike in Louboutins,” Declan said darkly.

  I scanned the 360 view of the green hills stretching into the distance and found it unbelievable that someone would find no interest in it.

  “I tried a few times to convince her to come with me,” Declan continued. “But I always ended up going by myself.”

  Was I the first to come up with him?

  “I was by myself most of the time I was with Giselle,” he said.

  There was a sadness in his voice, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “It wasn’t much different after I caught her with Dominic, I guess.”

  Dominic. Declan’s MMA rival? “Caught her?” I asked softly. I wanted to see Declan’s eyes, but they were glued to the sky.

  “Came home early from the gym to surprise her with takeout from this little Italian place we went to on our first date,” he said with anger painting his tone. “Walked into the bedroom and found out she was already plenty stuffed.”

  I picked at a blade of grass as the wind whispered through the trees. Finally, I glanced over at him. “And that’s when you...”

  “Emptied the liquor cabinet and got in my car.”

  And crashed, I filled in for him. There was the rest of the story I had been searching for. There was the reason. “That must have been terrible,” I said. “To, you know...see someone you lov—”

  A dark laugh came from Declan. “That’s the funny part of it all, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “I crashed my car, destroyed my career, and doomed my body to a lifetime of pain, and I’m not even sure if I ever loved that woman.”

  His words shocked me. “What do you mean?”

  Declan sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s just, the more I think about it, the more I wonder.”

  I waited patiently as he pieced together the words.

  “We were perfect for each other, Giselle and I,” he started. “We boosted each other’s careers, our relationship made a fuck ton of money, she looked good on my arm and I looked good with her on my arm. Perfect, right?”

  I remained silent.

  “But is that all love really is? A good PR package?” Declan finally turned his face to me. “That can’t be it, can it?” His eyes were earnestly searching mine.

  The normal icy blue storm of his gaze had stilled and in its place was a deep, still pool with depths I hadn’t noticed before.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted in a soft voice after a few quiet moments. “I wish I did, though.”

  “You’ve never been in love?” he asked.

  There was no pretence between us there on that craggy hillside above the trees. It wasn’t MMA champion and his assistant. It wasn’t billionaire and not-a-dime-to-her-name nobody. It wasn’t employer and employee.

  It was human to human.

  It was heart to heart.

  It was soul to soul.

  “For a little while, I thought I had been,” I said, “…in love, I mean.”

  Declan was patient as I chewed at my lower lip, unsure whether to open up so much of myself to him. I was playing with fire and I knew it. But he’d been honest with me. The least I could do was reciprocate, right? “Ricardo. The owner of a photography studio in New York City,” I admitted.

  “The one you volunteered at?” Declan asked.

  I nodded, once again surprised at how closely he’d listened to me. “He thought I was talented. He said I could be somebody. He promised me I could have the world if I wanted.” My mind flashed with images from those first few times together. His whispered words, his feather-light touch, his entrancing eyes I couldn’t escape. “It was intense and fast and passionate, but it wasn’t love,” I said. “At least I don’t think so.”

  “Why?”

  My eyes flicked over to Declan.

  He seemed eager to know.

  “Because I wasn’t me,” I said with a shrug. “The whole time I was trying to fit into a world I didn’t belong in: fancy clothes, sophisticated manners, shoes all the fucking time.”

  Declan laughed and it took me by surprise. I wanted to hear it again. And again. And again…

  “So no orgasm sounds during dinner?”

  I blushed and laughed. “No, no orgasm sounds. Only very serious conversations about very serious art.”

  Declan nodded. “What about very, very, very loud singing?”

  I grinned. “Nope.”

  “Not even in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be working?”

  I shook my head.

  “Surely there was very, very, very loud singing when people were trying to sleep?”

  “Believe it or not,” I said, “there wasn’t.”

  “Incredible.”

  Declan was quiet for a moment. After my laughter died down, he looked back over at me.

  His eyes held mine and I realised I wanted his gaze on me the same way I wanted his arms to hold me.

  His voice was soft when he spoke again. “What about dancing barefoot in the pouring rain while wearing pretty yellow sundresses?”

  His words were like silk sheets against my skin, and goose bumps travelled down my arms. He’d seen me? That day in the rain, he’d seen me?

  I hadn’t known.

  “No,” I whispered.

  Declan didn’t break eye contact as he said, “That’s a damn shame.”

  He saw all of it, I thought as he moved in just a hair’s width closer. It was such a small distance that no one watching us would have caught it. But I caught it.

  He’d seen it all. He’d seen my quirks; each and every annoying quirk, he’d seen. He’d seen my weird habits, my odd dinner manners, my unconventional clothes, ideas and wants.

  When I danced, I was me. Fully and entirely and completely me.

  And he’d seen it.

  Declan saw me.

  I found myself leaning closer just the tiniest amount, no farther than the breadth of one of the blades of grass quivering in the wind around us. No one would have noticed me move at all if they had been standing nearby. But I moved closer.

  And Declan saw.

  I saw it in his eyes.

  And that was when I pulled away. I pulled away and breathed deeply like I’d been under water for the last five minutes. I pushed my hair off from my suddenly sweaty forehead.

  I couldn’t do this, I thought. I couldn’t make the same mistake all over again. I couldn’t.

  I had my rules.

  I had my rules and I was going to follow them.

  I had to.

  “Beautiful day,” I said, forcing my attention out over the hills again.

  “Beautiful,” Declan agreed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he wasn’t looking at the hills at all. He wasn’t looking at the trees or the grass or the birds circling above or the bright, clear blue sky.

  He was looking at me.

  River

  “Declan, I really don’t have time for this.”

  I looked up from my computer in the small office at the back of the gym and rubbed my temples.

  Declan stood at the doorway with his normal scowl, his normal crossed arms, and his normal irritated sigh. “It’ll just take a minute,” he said in his normal monotone.

  “I don’t have a minute,” I practically whined as I glanced over the flood of rainbow-coloured sticky notes plastered everywhere on my desk. “I don’t even have thirty seconds. I still have to post to your social media accounts, reply to comments from the last one, arrange media interviews for the fight, set up—”

  “I need you to come now.”

  I shook my hand loose of five or six sticky notes stuck to my fingers and groaned. I was prepared to argue again when I saw the dark set of Declan’s eyes.

  He quirked his head to the side. “Do you not understand what now means?” he asked sarcastically. “Or should I write the definition on the line where I normally sign your cheques as your employer.”

  “Fine, fine,” I grumbled, shoving my chair back and following Declan out of the office.

  He walked with fast, determined strides past the cage as I hurried to keep up.

  “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” I called after him.

  “No.”

  How out of shape am I? I thought as I broke into a jog. I blamed Oisin’s delicious food. “Well, can you tell me what we’re doing then?”

  Up ahead, Declan turned the corner down the hall, and I found him already at the landing as I caught up.

  “Hurry up,” was his only answer.

  I huffed and puffed as I pulled myself up the stairs after him. “Do we really have to do this right now?” I moaned, my lungs burning.

  Was I dying?

  “Are you hurrying?” Declan glanced over his shoulder to ask.

  I resisted the urge to give my employer a certain finger. Why did we have to go so fast? Where were we even going? And why?

  “Shouldn’t you be doing like thirty thousand burpees right now?” I asked. It felt like I was sprinting next to his manly amble. “Isn’t there a bag somewhere that you can kick or punch or head butt?”

  Declan just rolled his eyes next to me as we moved past his room…then Giselle’s…then mine…where in the world were we going?

  “Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?” I asked, clutching at the stitch in my side.

  Wait.

  He was supposed to be training. It was right there in the War-and-Peace-length Job Manual: 3 to 6, afternoon training session. Declan didn’t miss training sessions. So what could possibly be so important that he decided to abandon it today?

  “Hurry up,” Declan again ordered.

  We entered a wing of the manor that I had never bothered to explore because Oisin had simply waved his hand as we passed it and said, “Eh, that’s all storage and shit.”

  As our rapid steps echoed on the hardwood floor, I imagined all the terrible tasks Declan could be assigning me in this forgotten hallway. Organise my jump ropes by length, width, and material… Watch this archived film of my matches and take detailed notes about punches my opponents have landed. There’s only like four thousand and sixty-seven hours’ worth… Dust and polish this closet of MMA trophies…

  Did the MMA even give out trophies? I considered as Declan stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway.

  I was busy catching my breath, but Declan was just...standing there.

  “Well?” I asked, looking between him and the door. “What was the big rush all about?”

  Declan scratched at the back of his neck and his blue eyes suddenly appeared nervous. “Umm, you can open it.”

  How bad of a mess was this storage room?

  I frowned up at him. “Huh?”

  He jutted his chin toward the door. “You can open it,” he repeated.

  I stared warily at the door and hesitated. “Do I need a hard hat?”

  This inquiry clearly caught Declan off-guard. “What?”

  I tapped on the door. “Is stuff going to topple down on me when I open this door?” I asked. “Like if it’s jump ropes, I guess I should be fine, but if we’re talking about a mountain of trophies, then this is really a workplace hazard.”

  Declan’s eyes were wide and unblinking as he stared down at me. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  Huffing in frustration, I crossed my arms and leaned my shoulder against the doorframe. “Listen,” I started as Declan listened with growing bewilderment. “I don’t want to be a sad story in the local newspaper, you know? American girl lampooned by falling MMA trophy. She is survived by her best friend, Miley Miles, and her negligent employer, Declan Gallagher. I don’t want that, you know?”

  Declan had no response.

  “It’s just that we haven’t even discussed workman’s comp and I’d have to talk with Seamus and—”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Declan grumbled as he reached over, twisted the handle, and shoved open the door.

  I got a glimpse of the inside of the room. Holy…crap. I could do nothing but stare. My mind tried to comprehend what I was seeing but it was just error message after error message. “But...”

  Afraid it was all a mirage that would disappear any moment, I tried not to blink. I couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t.

  “No trophies in here,” I managed to whisper. My eyes searched the space, as much of it as I could see from the doorway. “No jump ropes either.”

  The toes of my sneakers toyed with the line between the room and the hallway. If I stepped inside, I’d know: I’d know it was just a dream and I was really just in a dusty, crammed closet to organise. Or I’d know it was real. Marvellously, unbelievably, stupendously real. With a shaky breath, I closed my eyes and stepped inside.

  When I peeked an eye open, it was all still there: my very own darkroom.

  Slowly, just as slowly as I savoured any bite of Oisin’s food, I circled the room set up with everything I would need to develop my film. My fingers ghosted over the enlarger, a stack of photographic paper, baths for the developing chemicals—and it was all solid—it was real.

  It was all real.

  Back in the centre of the room, I turned around to find Declan watching me from his same place out in the hallway.

  “This is for work,” he grumbled.

  I nodded.

  His lips were still set in a straight line with no hint of a smile. “I set this up only because I require high-quality pictures for my promotional items.” He said this with the same icy monotone he used for all his other work assignments.

  I again nodded, but I couldn’t help grinning just a little bit.

  Declan frowned. “Stop smiling.”

  “I’m not smiling.”

  Declan pointed toward my lips. “I can see you smiling.”

  “Nope.”

  “Stop.”

  This only made me smile more. How in the world was I supposed to stop when I was standing in my very own darkroom?

  “Stop smiling.”

  “I’m not smiling.”

  “I didn’t do this for you,” Declan insisted. “I did it for my career.”

  “Okay.”

 

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