I’m rummaging through a crate of secondhand board games when the door opens again, the bell tinkling merrily despite the apocalypse outside.
I can’t see the newcomer from where I am, but I do hear Mick lumber back out as the door rattles shut.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son.”
“You still alive then?”
I freeze at the voice. Declan.
“They won’t let me go,” Mick says. “Fit as a fiddle apparently, despite my best efforts.”
Declan laughs as he heads toward the counter. I still can’t see him, but from the sound of his footsteps I mirror his movements, walking backward to put as much space between us as possible. I haven’t exactly figured out how I’m going to handle this little situation. We’re going to have to talk again eventually but not when my clothes are so wet I’m leaving a puddle beneath me.
“Do you have any painkillers?” Declan asks. “The serious kind?”
“Of course not,” Mick says. “I’m not a pharmacist. But if I did, they’d be over to the left and I’d give you the choice of the strong ones or the very strong ones.”
“Better make it very strong.”
“Late one last night, was it?”
He mutters something I can’t make out and Mick laughs.
“Anything to wash it down with?” Declan asks in normal tones.
“There’s something luminous by the magazines.”
I look in horror at the ice cooler beside me and scurry as quietly as I can to the other aisle as Declan’s footsteps sound across the floorboards.
Finally, I catch a glimpse of him through the space in the shelves. Or part of him anyway. He stands with his back to me, examining Mick’s refrigerator. His curls are almost black from the rain, plastered to his head. The back of his neck peeks out over his raincoat.
I have the strangest urge to touch it.
It’s probably for the best.
Mary’s words at the castle come back to me and I frown, wishing I had asked her what she meant.
Declan grabs a bright blue bottle from the fridge and flicks the door closed. “You got your suit ready?” He calls to Mick. “Got the mothballs out?”
“Enough of that,” Mick chides as we move again. Declan to the counter. Me to the door.
“I don’t want to look too handsome, mind you,” Mick continues. “Wouldn’t want to take away from the groom.”
“Of course not.”
I wait just out of view, eyeing the way out like I’m Indiana Jones.
“I’ll have you know, I had many women chasing after me back in the day,” Mick says over the ding of the cash register. “Why your own grandmother—”
Declan cuts him off with a groan and I step into the main aisle, my fingers brushing the worn brass doorknob as Mick’s voice calls from the other end of the store.
“It’s still raining, my dear.”
Great.
I close my eyes, count to five and mouth every curse word I know before turning around.
They’re both staring at me, Mick with a kindly expression like I’ve lost my mind and Declan… Declan like he’s just seen a ghost.
“And you’ll need to pay for that,” Mick adds.
I glance at the forgotten magazine in my hand.
“Right,” I say. “Sorry.”
I smile my brightest smile and walk briskly up the aisle, my sneakers squeaking with each step.
Declan regards me silently before popping two white tablets into his mouth. I can only imagine how I must look. Probably as bedraggled as I feel.
“Have you met Declan yet, Sarah?” Mick asks when neither of us acknowledges the other. “Paul’s younger brother.”
“We’ve met,” I say, pleased at how normal I sound. I reach the counter and have no choice but to stand beside him. No choice because Declan doesn’t move. He doesn’t give me so much as an inch of breathing space even though he’s already paid and has no reason to remain—and why won’t he leave.
“Just the magazine, is it?”
“Yes,” I mumble, laying it on the counter. Declan shifts beside me and I risk a glance at him to find him staring at the cover. I follow his gaze to issue twelve of The Modern Irish Tractor.
Mick at least makes no comment.
“That’ll be two fifty.”
The money is slippery in my hands, gold and silver coins I can no longer make sense of. I hold out my palm numbly and Mick peers into it, taking what’s needed. Even though only a few seconds have passed, the whole transaction seems to take an exceptionally long time. All I can smell is the sickly-sweet scent of Declan’s sports drink.
I should make small talk. I should make small talk and he should make small talk and we should act like adults. If not for us, then for Annie and Paul. But I can’t seem to force any words out. I don’t know why he’s acting so cold. Like I’m the one who did something wrong. I stiffen at the thought, annoyed. He’s the one who left me to clean up his mess last night.
Mick dings open the register.
This time when I glance at Declan, I find him watching me.
I snap my eyes back to Mick and grab my new issue of Tractor.
“Nice to meet you,” I say as I spin on my heel. “See you at the wedding.”
“Mind the—”
Declan’s hand shoots out as I slip on the wet floor, grabbing my upper arm with a firm grip as he hauls me upright. Before I can shake him off, he lets go of me and takes another swig of his drink.
“I’ll get some towels,” Mick sighs as I walk more carefully toward the exit.
I step outside and immediately cringe from the roar of the rain overhead. But knowing if I stay, I’ll only make more of an idiot of myself, I let the door swing shut behind me.
The magazine is good for something at least. I hold it above my head, walking as quickly as I can before breaking into a run all the way back to the hotel.
7
The next few days pass by in a blur as I throw myself into the packed itinerary of everything Kilgorm has to offer, determined to distract myself. I power my way through archery, sip attentively at beer tasting and finally succumb to a very long bubble bath in the freestanding tub. I don’t speak to Declan again. I don’t speak to him because I barely see him. He comes briefly to the wedding rehearsal, hitting his marks and saying his lines but other than that he seems to have been let off the hook of any family commitments and appears neither for the activities during the day or the dinners at night. And though no one else remarks on it, it’s noticeable. And I can’t help but think it’s because of me.
It’s only when I corner Annie at lunch one day does she confirm that I’m right.
“He said he’s going to stay in the village to make things easier for you. You and him,” she clarifies as we sit in a couple of large leather armchairs in the lounge. She bites into her sandwich and a handful of lettuce and tomato falls to her plate. “Apparently when his mom gets something into her head, she doesn’t let it go. Declan says he doesn’t want to run around after her while she plays matchmaker.”
“Mary and I already cleared the air about that. She said she’d stop.”
“I know but he doesn’t believe her. Paul said he’s not a big fan of family gatherings anyway so it’s not a big deal.” She wipes a dollop of mayonnaise from her chin, looking at me curiously. “Is that okay with you?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You just seem a little… upset.”
“I’m fine.” But the words come too quickly, sounding false even to me.
Annie puts her sandwich down, smiling gently. “Don’t tell me you want to break your famous one-night-only rule? God forbid you form an attachment to someone.”
“That’s such an exaggeration,” I say, uncomfortable. “I don’t have a rule.”
“Don’t you? Have you even been on a second date with someone since Josh?”
I glance up in surprise. Annie goes quiet, realizing her mistake.
We don’t t
alk about Josh. No matter how many years have passed.
“What I mean,” she starts again, “is that you act like it’s your mission to close yourself off to people even when you like them.”
“What is with everyone turning into a therapist this week?”
“I’m not trying to be your therapist,” she says patiently. “It’s just that—”
“I’m fine,” I interrupt. “Declan and I had a good time together and that’s all we had and we both understand that. We’re adults. The only thing that is making it complicated is whatever family drama I’ve stumbled into. If he wants to stay away, that’s his choice, but all I’m saying is that he doesn’t need to for my sake.”
“Because you’re fine.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll ask Paul to mention it to him,” she says and I sit back, relieved. “But now we’re on the subject of your dating life—”
“That was never the subject.”
“Is there anyone you like? Anyone at work? What about that guy you sit with?”
“Will?” I laugh at the thought. “No. Will doesn’t swing that way and even if he did, we’d have the least romantic connection possible. He’s more like a brother.”
“And no one else?”
Unexpectedly, I think of Matthias but immediately banish him from my mind. It’s too messy to even contemplate.
“Not really,” I say. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. Besides a few hiccups I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“That’s good,” she says with a sigh. “Sometimes I feel so out of the loop with things back home.”
“Enjoy it.” I smirk. “You won’t be able to escape me when you get back.”
Her gaze softens. “Thank you for being so cool with this. All of it. Coming all the way over here and then having to deal with Paul’s mom and Declan…” She trails off. “Who knows? You two might even become friends.”
I tear off a piece of bread, dipping it into the now cold soup. “Let’s not go that far.”
More dinner. More drinks. How did people do this in the olden days? I mean sure it was the only source of entertainment in their Wi-Fi-less lives, but it’s exhausting. At least in a club, it’s dark and everyone is drunk enough that it doesn’t matter how you act or who you act with. But there are no shot glasses here. No thumping bass or strobe lighting, only brightly lit rooms and music that seems to get faster and faster until the world spins all night long whether you want it to or not.
As Mary more or less confirmed, I had been at the reject table that first night. And while I’ve noticed a difference these past few days, it’s nothing compared to the party that night. With only two days to go before the wedding, most of the guests have arrived for a long weekend and no sooner do I enter the ballroom than a hundred million people (give or take) come up to me with warm smiles and strong handshakes. My cheek is kissed a dozen times and though it’s a little overwhelming, I’m delighted with it too. Delighted they all seem to love Annie as much as I do. But man, is it hard to keep up with. Some have thicker accents than others and it’s not easy when they talk over each other, which is most of, if not all of, the time. Sometimes it’s a struggle to understand what they’re saying, let alone answer appropriately, but I get the gist of it. That I am welcome. That they are happy to have me and will I have another glass?
Connor lingers by my side a little longer than necessary, taking great pains to fetch me drinks and introduce me to the endless stream of people. He isn’t pushy about it though and while there are a few sly jokes, he mostly treats me as Paul’s special guest. Eventually, even he leaves to say his hellos and I’m relieved to escape to the opposite wall, facing the dance floor where older couples and groups of small children move with varying degrees of skill to the live band.
I spend a few minutes simply watching them, enjoying the pleasant buzz in the air and the happy look on Annie’s face as she’s taught by several hyper eight-year-olds how to do an Irish jig.
An hour into the evening, Connor catches my eye across the room and makes a drinking motion with his hand. I’m trying to think of an appropriate sign for rum and Coke when his attention shifts to someone next to me. His smile drops.
“Heard you were missing me.”
I stiffen as Declan settles against the wall beside me, appearing as though out of nowhere. It’s an effort not to stare at him, dressed in a dark-gray suit, his hair suspiciously tidy, as though he just had it cut.
I hate the little stutter my heart gives at the sight of him, but I tell myself it’s normal. Of course I find him attractive. It’s the reason I slept with him in the first place and a few days and several thousand miles aren’t going to make any difference to that.
To my extra embarrassment, he notices my appraisal. “I scrub up well, don’t I?”
“I didn’t know you could dress yourself.”
“I didn’t. The man in the suit shop did. Terry is his name. Nice guy.”
He’s in a much better mood than he was in the last time I saw him. The best mood I’ve seen him in since I got here and suddenly, I find myself a little tongue-tied.
“I meant to say something to you at Mick’s,” he continues. “I was actually on my way here to apologize for the other night but then there you were, stealing from a small-business owner and looking like a drowned rat. That’s not to say I was doing much better. I was incredibly hungover. We’re talking rough as a badger’s arse—”
“I get it,” I interrupt. “Apology accepted.”
“I just don’t want you to think I was avoiding you.”
“I didn’t,” I lie.
“Great. In that case, do you want to dance?”
I shoot him a glance to see if he’s joking. “Not right now.”
“You want to get a drink?”
“Connor’s getting me a drink.”
“Connor?” Declan follows my gaze across the room to where his cousin watches us with a sour expression. “I see.”
“No, you don’t see,” I say, annoyed at the implication in his tone.
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me?”
“Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean I have to like you,” I say. “And I don’t not like you. I don’t know you.”
“I think you know parts of me pretty well actually.”
My face heats at his words. “Feel free to leave at any point.”
“But Paul told me you wanted to see me.”
“I never said—” I break off at the smile on his face. “You’re so annoying.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’ll try anyway.” He waits but I stay quiet, not knowing what to say that won’t end in an argument. I sigh inwardly as a silence stretches between us. I was much more eloquent when I spoke with him in my head.
“So, tell me, Sarah,” he continues politely. “How are you finding it on our fair isle?”
“It’s very pretty.”
“That’s it? No sentimental feelings about returning to the land of your ancestors?”
“My ancestors were French and Dutch.”
“Really?” He looks surprised. “You don’t have any Irish in you?”
“Nope.”
“Would you like some?”
My head whips toward him and he smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Oldest one in the book.”
“I’m going now.”
“Oh, come on.” He laughs. “I’m trying here. The least you can do is talk to me a bit longer. I’m making several men jealous right now. Or one at least.” He waves at Connor who’s still in line for the bar.
“Stop that,” I hiss.
“Stop what?” He’s enjoying this far too much.
“You think I’m playing a game right now? Just because I’m the single girl at the wedding doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with someone.”
Declan turns to me immediately, all joking vanished. “I neve
r thought that,” he says.
I can’t decide if I’m embarrassed or annoyed. Maybe a bit of both. Declan must sense he’s taken a wrong turn because he falls quiet, glancing around the room as though searching for a distraction.
“You’re sure you don’t want to dance?”
“Yep,” I say as Annie looks our way.
“So we’re just going to stand awkwardly at the side of the room?”
“I don’t feel awkward and I’m not dancing with you.”
“Fine. Glower in the corner.” He turns serious again when I don’t budge, holding out his hand. “Dance with me. Please. Smile for your friend and I’ll smile for my brother and then you can go back to ignoring me. Or pretending to at least.”
I want to say no. Whatever’s happened to me tonight, his sudden appearance has thrown me and I can’t help but think that the more time I spend with him, the pettier I’ll be. It’s like he brings out all my worst traits. But Annie looks like she’s one second from marching over here and now Paul is watching us too, as if they think we’re about to cause a scene.
The thought makes me feel even worse. “One song,” I say, shoving myself away from the wall.
“Yes, ma’am.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he sounded relieved.
We join the others on the makeshift dance floor. Our bodies are a little too close together for my liking, but he keeps his touch featherlight on my waist, moving us with a confidence that surprises me. He doesn’t try and make any further conversation; he doesn’t even look at me. His gaze roves purposefully on the other members of the floor, even going so far as to chat with people around us before we move away again. All the while, he steers me smoothly around the other couples, never missing a beat.
As we complete our second turn of the room, I have to break my silence; the suspicion is too great.
“You know how to dance?” I finally ask, trying to sound as uninterested as possible.
He smiles like I haven’t been sulking for the last few minutes. “I do.” And as if he’s been waiting for the opportunity, he immediately swings me around, making me stumble in surprise. “You’re not one of those people with two left feet, are you?” he asks as he steadies me.
One Night Only: An absolutely hilarious and uplifting romantic comedy Page 6