“Before you go,” he says, motioning us to stand together. “Best man and the maid of honor please.”
Declan doesn’t hesitate as he strides toward me, turning to the camera.
We stand together, close but not touching and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so awkward. I wait for him to make a joke, to say something, anything, but he stays mute. And I know if I was the one to break the silence, it wouldn’t be good. I’m one more glance away from grabbing him by the lapels and screeching into his face like some deranged maniac. Tell me I look pretty!
But before I can say something to break the tension one of the flower girls approaches with poorly concealed glee. She doesn’t even wait until Declan turns to her before she throws a handful of petals at him and runs off with a delighted shriek when he chases after her.
Fine.
I sulk my way back to the hotel as the photos continue on the lawn, but my mood instantly changes when I see what they’ve done with the place. I was too busy with Annie to notice this morning, but as soon as I step inside, I feel as though I’ve entered another world. The bare, echoing room has been transformed. Fairy lights drape across the ceiling with large oak branches decorated with silky white ribbons. Irish moss artfully decorates each table. With the good weather, the patio doors are wide open and non-wedding guests are already peeping through the windows, hoping for a glimpse of the bride.
“Thirty-two degrees,” Mary says when she sees me. She’s standing in the middle of the room, directing staff with the final touches. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’re not doing too bad.”
“If we keep the doors open we might get a breeze.”
“We’ll be okay,” I say, but before she can respond there’s a loud rumbling sound from the lobby and a second later two overly large industrial fans are wheeled into the room.
“Leftover from a movie shoot last year,” Mary says as I stare at them.
“Well,” I say as a waiter attempts to drape a vine of ivy over them. “At least they’re—”
The fans sputter to life, roaring into the room and promptly blowing a decorative wreath to the ground.
Mary and I share a glance as a waitress scrambles to fix it.
“Be grand,” she says loudly, patting my hand. “Give it a few minutes and it will be nothing but background noise.”
I help her move the fans to where they’ll cause the least amount of damage and by the time I finally slip away, the restrooms are full of women furiously patting their faces and other body parts dry. The ballroom fills quickly with people wanting to escape the sun, some faces already tinged a little pink, while the rest of us wait in the hall to lead the bride and groom inside.
Annie has had the benefit of a professional makeup team to help her but she’s frowning when she reaches me.
“Sarah?”
“Everything’s fine,” I say. “We’re turning the fans off for the speeches.”
“No, not that.” Her nose crinkles. “What’s that smell?”
“What smell?” I usher them toward the doors as Paul sniffs the air. And that’s when I catch it too, a cloying rotten odor almost like…
“There’s definitely a—”
“I can’t smell anything.” I give her a push and stand back as the room bursts into applause.
I slip in behind them as they move slowly through the center of the room, greeting their guests as they head to the banquet table.
“What’s that smell?” I ask Mary as I take my seat beside her.
“That would be the cheese table,” Mary says cheerfully.
“Oh God.”
“We’ve wheeled it out. And the fans will help.”
I don’t know whether they actually do help or if everyone in the room just collectively decides to ignore it. The next part of the day begins. Annie’s dad stumbles his way through a heartfelt speech about wanting her to see the world, and Annie and Paul do a joint toast thanking everyone for coming. We break for some much-needed food and I’m two (or three) glasses of champagne in when Mary taps me on my shoulder.
“Time for your speech,” she says. “We’ve got to keep this thing moving if the fish course is going to survive the weather.”
I grimace at the thought of even more smelly food joining the party. “I’m next?” I feel a sudden bout of nerves. “Can’t Declan go next?”
“He’s not making one. He’s not comfortable in front of crowds. Paul’s godfather is going to do one instead.”
“Then maybe he could—”
“You’ll be fine dear,” Mary says, patting my hand. “Up you get now. The sooner we get them done the sooner we can save the fish.”
“Right.” I take my notecards out from my purse. It’s not like I didn’t know this was coming but I’d forgotten about it with everything else going on. Now, it’s hard not to feel anxious. Most of these people are still strangers to me. And again, I find myself wanting to make a good impression for Annie.
I stand, clinking a teaspoon against my glass. The guests nearest the table notice the movement and turn expectantly but the rest of the room is oblivious, even when I say my first hello into the microphone handed to me by a beaming staff member.
Great start.
I clear my throat, trying to get the attention of the man standing by the fans. After several requests they’d turned them back on for the appetizers, but now no one can hear anyone beyond the person next to them. “Could we maybe…”
“Sean!” Declan bellows down the room and a moment later the noise cuts out, trailing off with a stutter.
“Thanks,” I mumble and he nods, not looking at me. The room falls silent.
Okay.
“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Sarah Anderson and I have the great privilege of being Annie’s maid of honor today.”
Pause. Turn to A. Everyone smiles.
I follow the instructions on my cards to the letter. So far so good.
“Annie and I met on our first day of college, which means, besides her parents, I’ve known her longer than anyone in this room. She sits here now as the elegant, levelheaded woman who we know and love, but I think it’s important that as her new family and friends, you all understand that for most of her twenties, she had terrible taste in men.” I switch notecards as they laugh exactly where I hoped they would.
“I didn’t think Paul would be any different,” I continue. “The first time I was supposed to meet him was at our friend Claudia’s dinner party. Annie planned to use the occasion to introduce him to everyone. That was on a Friday. I ended up meeting him on the Tuesday before, which just so happened to be Annie’s birthday. Because their relationship was so new, she hadn’t told him. She didn’t want him to feel any pressure and as many of you know, despite our grand surroundings, she doesn’t like being the center of attention. But somehow Paul found out and convinced Annie to give him her key so he could drop something over while she was at work. Which is why I arrive home that evening not to only see a stranger in my apartment but to find the place covered in flowers. And not just any flowers,” I add, glancing at the couple. “Daisies. Daisies, which, of course, Annie is allergic to.”
Annie grins as Paul drops his face into his hands.
“My introduction to Paul was not him charming me over the dinner table as Annie had hoped but the two of us scrambling around the apartment, trying to get rid of several hundred dollars’ worth of flowers before she got home. We do not succeed, and she arrives back only to have an immediate sneezing fit. The leftover pollen was so bad that she had to move out for two days while our building manager vacuumed the place out. That was actually the first night she spent at Paul’s place, which, now that I think about it, was probably his plan all along.” I pause, smiling as I remember.
“It was a disaster. But it also told me everything everyone in this room already knows about Paul. That he is an idiot but that he loves her. He loves her and he’s crazy about her and he will do whatever he ca
n to make her smile. And despite the fact that she had a rash for several days afterward, I don’t think she’s stopped smiling since.” I falter, the last few words catching unexpectedly in my throat.
Turn to A+P. I do just that.
“What you two have is something so many people dream of,” I say. “And though the journey is really just beginning for the two of you, you make me believe in happily-ever-afters. I love you both so much and I’m so happy for you.”
Applause. Tuck your skirt when you sit.
I sweep a hand under me, gathering my dress as everyone claps. Paul’s godfather gets to his feet and Annie leans over, mouthing a thank you as I gulp back my champagne.
For the first time since the ceremony, Declan’s eyes meet mine and he inclines his head in a subtle well done that means more to me than I’d like it to. And as the next speech begins, I reach for a fresh glass and do my best to pay attention.
After the speeches and the dinner are done, we move on to the real party. A local Irish dancing school is brought in and Connor finds great amusement in cajoling one of them to try and teach me a few steps. I barely make it one leap before I’m out of breath and plead American ignorance as they skip easily before me.
You’d think after the first few songs, people would get tired. We’re only human after all. There would be time for a rest.
Apparently not.
The night wears on but the dancing never stops. The food never stops. Despite an impressive stereo system waiting to go in the corner, a traditional band is still on the small stage, playing their hearts out. They swing wildly between soulful Irish ballads before suddenly launching into “Sweet Caroline.” I can’t keep up.
Eventually, knowing I’ll faint if I don’t, I break away from the dance floor, fanning myself. “I need a break,” I say to a chorus of boos. “I have to sit down. I have to.”
Annie catches me halfway across the floor. We’ve both exchanged our heels for sneakers, and if anything, she should be the one lagging, but she seems to have caught a little of the Irish spirit.
“You’re very popular,” Annie shouts as one of the cousins tries to woo me back.
“He’s fourteen!”
She only laughs as she’s whisked away and I escape gratefully to the snack bar that arrived magically at midnight, wheeled in by an indulgent staff member. The spread seems to be made up exclusively of white bread, creamy yellow butter and a various assortment of chips.
“Crisp sandwiches,” someone had told me earlier. “You can’t beat them.”
I thought after dinner I couldn’t eat another bite, but all the dancing has made me hungry, so I grab a handful of chips from a bowl at the side and make my way to the safety of the wall.
I collapse in a chair and check my watch. It’s after two in the morning. We’ve been dancing for hours.
“Drink this.”
A glass of clear liquid is thrust in my direction. I look up at the person holding it, momentarily hopeful.
But it’s the wrong brother.
“It’s only water,” Paul laughs, mistaking my expression. I take it gratefully as he sits next to me.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m exhausted,” I say truthfully. “How do you do this?”
“Years of practice. You’re doing great. But no one will mind if you want to slip out.”
“An Irish goodbye, huh? Now I know why you guys do that.”
“We just don’t like showing weakness. She looks happy.”
I follow his eyes to where Annie dances in the center of the room, still glowing. “The happiest.”
“I didn’t think she’d make it this long.”
“You married well.”
“I did, didn’t I?” His eyes flick to mine, mischievous and bright. I’ve never seen him like this before. So utterly ecstatic. Something pulls at my heart just thinking about it. I doubt I’ll ever feel that way again. Not after Josh. I doubt I’ll have anything as close as what these two have.
“Connor’s still hoping for the ride,” Paul adds, ruining the moment.
“Hoping for the ride,” I repeat slowly. “I know you guys are meant to have a way with words and poetry but…”
Paul laughs.
“I think I’ll pass this time,” I say ruefully. “I’ve had enough of the Murphy family.”
He grimaces and I pat his knee to show him I don’t mind.
“Where is the best man anyway?” I haven’t seen Declan since dinner and spent most of the evening expecting him to show up, catching me off guard like he always does.
“He had to catch a flight,” Paul says. “Straight after the speeches. Back to work.”
“Oh.” The noise comes out several octaves too high, but Paul doesn’t seem to notice. I’m grateful it’s him and not Annie who told me. She would have seen right through me.
“That’s a shame,” I say. “Back to New York?”
He nods as the music changes to another up-tempo song. This one everyone seems to know as a small cheer goes up. “Can I tempt you?” he asks.
“No, please. Leave me to my blisters.”
“You’re doing well,” he says. “Though I wouldn’t expect anything less. Thanks for being Annie’s best friend.”
“Thanks for being the love of her life.”
He kisses me on the cheek and then he’s off, disappearing into the crowd to find his wife.
I stay where I am, nibbling on chips I can no longer taste.
I can’t believe Declan left without saying goodbye.
You wanted him gone, a little voice inside me says.
It’s true but I wanted to be the one to say goodbye to him.
It’s childish I know. But I want to be the one with the last word.
I watch people swing each other around the room. Kids dart between tables, squealing at each other over handfuls of food and sugary drinks while others sleep in the laps of their parents, oblivious to the chaos around them.
I don’t think I even have the energy to make it back upstairs, but Connor comes toward me with a kind look and hauls me to my feet.
“You can’t stop now,” he chides, pulling me after him, and I laugh as I go, stumbling in my dress.
I give over to the music as a cheesy pop song starts and push any thought of Declan aside.
In a few hours, I will get on a plane back to New York.
And everything will go back to normal.
13
Two weeks later
You up?
The text comes through at 2:06 a.m. on a Saturday night.
I am up. I’ve been watching a twelve-part documentary series about serial killers and signing random petitions about microplastics.
Now I have a booty call.
I roll onto my back, squinting at my phone. The number is saved under the helpful description of “Glasses. Has a cat.”
Strangely, that does help me place him. The blond-haired analyst from Denver who I hooked up with a few months ago.
I can’t remember his name.
But his cat’s name is Derrida.
Which honestly tells me a lot.
I think about replying, toying with the idea for about thirty seconds before I toss my phone to the side again. I don’t have the energy. Maybe two in the morning will be my new cutoff point.
I stretch until I feel my bones crack and press pause on Episode Seven: The Killer Next Door.
Maybe I should cut my hair. I’ve always worn it long and used to take great pride in it but in the last few months I’m pretty sure I’ve traded the “luscious locks” look for a “why doesn’t that girl own a comb” vibe. Maybe I’ll cut it and lose ten pounds and suddenly have cheekbones.
Maybe then I’ll feel better.
I groan, rolling onto my stomach and hear the crinkle of a candy bar wrapper somewhere beneath me.
Well. That’s sad.
My phone buzzes again.
Sorry. Cat man texts. Wrong number.
My mouth drops op
en at the indignity of it and I immediately block his number. “Rude.”
I swipe through my notifications, looking for some distraction. But there’s nothing. No new messages. No emails. No likes. No news updates. No nothing.
Made you look.
The last text Declan sent me. It’s saved under “Dark hair. O’Shea’s.” The name of the bar where I met him. I didn’t know his name when I got his number. I didn’t know his name when I slept with him.
He still hasn’t collected his watch.
I still haven’t asked him to.
Maybe he forgot about it. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me again.
He certainly hasn’t tried to get in touch. I thought he might the first few days I was back. Then the first weekend and then…
I stare at the screen and, like I dared myself, click on the reply box, the flashing line taunting me, goading me to type.
But I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say because I don’t know what I want. I know what I should want, which is nothing. Nothing to do with him anyway. But I don’t like how we left things.
Closure. That’s all I need. One moment of Hey! Wasn’t that crazy? Also goodbye forever! to put him behind me.
There’s a noise on the other side of my wall and a moment later I hear Claire’s door open. Eager for anything other than my own company, I slip out of bed and hop through my discarded clothes on the floor. I find her sitting in the dark, perched on our kitchen counter, eating crackers straight from the box.
“Did I wake you?” she asks when she sees me.
“No, I can’t sleep.”
“Join the club.” She shakes the box at me and we’re silent for a few minutes as we crunch our way through them.
“I got invited to the Griffiths’ party,” she says, licking her fingers.
“The what now?”
“My boss’s annual party. The one they host every year in that amazing penthouse because they’re gazillionaires.”
“Right,” I say. “Cool. That’s a good thing, right?”
“A very good thing.” She pops another cracker into her mouth. “I need you to come with me.”
One Night Only: An absolutely hilarious and uplifting romantic comedy Page 11