“What?” she asks. “What happened?”
I burst into tears.
“Oh God,” Mark says as she hurries over to me. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry,” I cry into Claire’s shoulder.
“What happened?” she asks, more alarmed now as I sob.
“I got fired. They fired me.”
“Oh, honey.” Her arms clench tighter around me. I feel her head shift and know she’s communicating something with Mark.
“I’ll go,” he says a moment later.
“No, stay,” I wail. “Or don’t stay. Both of you go.”
“Don’t be stupid, Sarah. Of course, I’ll stay with you.”
“I’ll call Annie.” I push against her until she releases me. “She’ll come. I’ll only feel worse if you stay,” I say. “Please go. Enjoy your dinner even though I’ve just ruined it.”
“Of course, you haven’t.”
“We can order in,” Mark offers but, of course, that scenario is even too ridiculous to contemplate. I’m not ready to play the third wheel just yet.
“He’s leaving tomorrow,” I say quietly to her. “And I’m embarrassed enough as it is. Go. Please.”
“You’re going to call Annie,” Claire says, holding my arms to keep me in place. “And she’s going to come over. Promise me you’ll call her.”
“I will. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m going to eat a lot of ice cream.”
“Text me if you need me to come back.”
“I will,” I lie. “Go.
It takes a lot more convincing to get them both out the door but by the time they are my tears have stopped, leaving me sore and dehydrated. I immediately crawl into bed, miserable and feeling inordinately sorry for myself.
A text message comes through an hour later from Declan, confirming what Paul said.
He’s coming back.
And he can’t wait to see me.
27
I am not going to confront him. I am going to talk to him. I will ask him politely about his beautiful wife, who he’s loved since they were children. I will gently interrogate why he didn’t tell me about her and he will tell me everything and we will clear the air. There’s no reason for the conversation not to end in an adult, reasonable manner. There is no reason from what Paul has said, as twisted as it makes me feel, that we can’t move past this.
No reason for me to feel nothing but dread, even though I do.
I call in sick to work and invite him over that afternoon, hoping the words sound terse enough that he doesn’t think it’s an overnight invitation.
Maybe we should meet on neutral ground, but I prefer the safety of my apartment. I clean, I shave, I curl my hair and then straighten it again, not wanting to look like I’ve gone to any effort. I want to appear confident and capable except he’s fifteen minutes late and I’m a complete mess by the time the buzzer goes. It seems to take him an insanely long time to climb the one flight of stairs, the few steps to my door. In reality, it can’t be more than a few seconds.
I hate the sudden dip inside at the sight of him. I hate the way my body reacts to him even now.
He looks tired. There are dark smudges under his eyes and a slight blush of razor burn on his cheek. His jeans are creased and so is his T-shirt and he smells like deodorant, as if he just put it on. As if he didn’t even go home and shower before coming to see me. That theory is further backed up by the black leather travel bag in his hands, which he dumps casually inside the door as if he’s done this a million times. The realization that he came straight here, as if he couldn’t wait to see me either, only makes me more confused.
I want to kiss him. I want to hold him and make him hold me.
But I can’t.
Not yet.
“I got you airport gin,” he says by way of greeting. He holds up the bottle. “It was on sale. Also…” He pulls out a large packet of candy from the bag. “Airport pretzels. You’re welcome.”
I close the door behind him. “How was your flight?”
“Delayed but I’ve had worse. Glad to be back.”
I see the exact moment he realizes something’s wrong. Or maybe he senses the weird energy in the room. I can certainly feel it. A strained tension that only heightens the odd feeling inside of me.
He puts the gin and pretzels down on the counter, not even trying to pretend. “What’s up?”
Nothing. Everything.
“Sarah?”
“I, um, lost my job.”
His expression is an instant mask of concern and his arms reach out as if to draw me into a hug. “What happened?”
“It was coming,” I say, stepping back. He takes the hint and doesn’t try and come any closer. “I should have started looking as soon as I didn’t get the promotion. Harvey has been acting standoffish ever since and…” I trail off at the look on his face.
“I’m pulling out. I’ll ditch the firm.”
“No,” I say quickly. “You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do,” he says. He looks furious. “This is ridiculous. They can’t do that.”
“They can and they have. Please don’t pull your business. There’s no point anyway, we’re too far along. You’ll just have to start all over again.”
“I’m not having that guy—”
“Someone else is going to take over the plans,” I interrupt. I’m not going to tell him about my conversation with Matthias. Then he’ll definitely leave.
Declan looks like he’s going to say something more, but he stops himself. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make this about me.”
“I’m dealing with it. It sucks but I’m dealing with it. I’ve got enough savings to last for a few weeks, so I’ve got time to find something.”
“Of course, you will.”
I nod, not looking at him.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks. “Or if you don’t feel like talking, we could catch a movie or—”
“I want to talk,” I interrupt. “We need to talk. I want to ask you about something.”
He waits but I can’t seem to get the words out.
“Sure,” he says finally. He sits on the sofa, leaving space beside him, but I aim for the armchair against the wall. He’s surprised but he masks it quickly, turning to face me.
“I had lunch with Paul and Annie the other day,” I start, ripping off the Band-Aid. “Paul told me about Fiona.”
Declan goes completely still, his eyes never leaving my face. The silence stretches on for so long I start to worry if he even heard me. Whatever he expected me to say, it obviously wasn’t this.
“Well,” he says eventually. “He shouldn’t have done that.”
“Because you told him not to?”
“Because it’s private.”
“I made him tell me,” I say. “So don’t blame this on him. I found an old blog post about the two of you.”
“You looked me up?”
“That’s what you’re focusing on?”
“What else should I be focusing on?”
“How about the fact that you’re married?”
“Separated.”
“But not divorced. You don’t think there’s a difference between the two things? You knew,” I say. “You knew what happened with my parents. I told you how it messed me up and you kept this from me. You went to Chicago to see her?”
“I did. I had some work to do as well. I didn’t lie to you about that.”
“You told Paul you were in Boston.”
“Because I didn’t want him to worry about me and her. He worried about us a lot before.”
“And should he be worried about you now?”
He leans forward. He looks pissed off again. “The last time Fiona and I spoke before this week was a year ago when her grandmother died. I called to offer my condolences. The last time I saw her in person was two years ago when she returned he
r engagement ring. It’s a family heirloom and she didn’t want to put it in the mail. I gave it back to Mam who gave it to Paul who eventually gave it to Annie. We are not in touch.”
“So why did you go see her?” It’s impossible to keep the hurt from my voice. Declan stays quiet and I can’t take it. “Answer me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want to?”
“This is not how I want to talk about this.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “Well, tough shit, because that’s what we’re doing.”
“You’re upset, Sarah. Not only are you upset about me not telling you about Fiona, you’ve just lost your job, which is a pretty big, terrible thing. So again, no, I’m not having this conversation right now.” Sometime in the past few moments, his face has gone very pale, his body tense in a way I’ve never seen before.
“Do you still have feelings for her?”
“Of course, I do. But not what you— Sarah.”
I stand, running my hands up and down my thighs. I can’t sit still. I can’t look at him. I’d been so careful. So careful to do this right and yet he comes along and ruins everything and now I’ll get hurt. I’m getting hurt. The pain is intense. A sharp throb in my chest, a punch of disappointment that’s worse than losing the job. That’s almost as bad as when I lost Josh.
“Please sit down,” Declan says even though he rises too. “This is why I don’t want to talk about this now. You’re upset.”
“I’m not upset over you,” I lie, fleeing to the relative safety of the kitchen.
“I know.” The calm mask slips from his face, alarm creeping in. “I meant upset about your job.”
“I don’t want to talk about my stupid job,” I snap. “If you don’t want to tell me, then why are you still here?”
My knee is shaking. My hand is shaking. I want to scream at him. I want to hit something. All this energy is building inside of me and I don’t know what to do with it. He wants to break this off. That’s the only reason for all of this. Maybe he thought he would go see her and tell her about me to make her jealous. It’s the only thing I can think of. The only explanation for why he’s refusing to tell the truth. Maybe he thought he could string this out a bit more. Keep his options open.
“You’re really not going to talk to me?” I ask finally.
He says nothing.
“Then go.” My voice is calm. Thank God for that at least. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s happening, then go.”
He watches me for a long moment, assessing me. Maybe waiting for me to change my mind. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“I’ll call you in a few days.”
“I won’t answer.”
“I’ll still call. And if you want to see me before then—”
“Just go,” I snap and this time he does, giving me one last look before he grabs his bag and walks out, closing the door softly behind him.
I can’t believe it.
What the hell just happened?
I let out an angry breath, tears threatening. That was not how I wanted it to go at all. I wanted him to sit there and explain and let me be angry and maybe yell at me and then we’d kiss and move on.
Instead, he sat there. He sat there and he refused to tell me how he really felt.
Because he loves her.
He loves her and he’s married to her, separation or not, and how the hell am I supposed to compete with that? I knew it was too good to be true. I let him play me with his teasing and his sunrises and I really like you in that dress, Sarah, all the while he was married.
He’s married.
I pace around the apartment, glaring at the pretzels, glaring at the spot on the sofa where he sat. The pressure still rises inside, squeezing my chest. In my bedroom, I pick up a pillow and scream into it for a few long seconds until I have nothing left to give.
It’s only when I stop do I hear the knocking.
28
I stare through the keyhole at the top of Declan’s head as he knocks again and again and again.
“Leave me alone,” I yell.
“No.”
“You just said you’d go.”
“I changed my mind. Open the door.”
“No. Go away.” I stand back, adopting a defensive stance as if he’s about to break the thing down.
“I’m not going to let you overthink this,” he calls. “I’ve been standing out here for five minutes and now I’m sick of it, so let me in.”
“No.”
“Sarah!” He knocks again, loudly and I wince, thinking about the neighbors. “Let me explain.”
“You didn’t want to explain before.”
“And I still don’t but I will now if that’s the only thing that’s going to help you get over this.” There’s a softer thump against the door like he’s rested his head against it. “I’ve spent too long trying to guess what’s going on in your mind and waiting for the right moment. So I give up. You’re right. There is no right moment. There’s only now. So let me in so we can talk.”
I don’t want to talk. I want to scream into my pillow again.
“We’re going to hash this out eventually,” he continues. “Maybe it would be best to wait until you’ve calmed down and I’ve figured out what I’m going to say but I’m not going to waste another few days waiting for that to happen, so let me in. Please, Sarah.”
His voice drops for the last two words, catching me off guard. The only reason I’m able to hear them is because I’ve moved closer to the door again. Drawn to him despite my best efforts.
There’s no more noise from the hallway and as I undo the latch I almost think he’s left when he suddenly barges inside.
“I’m not in love with her,” he says, throwing his bag down again.
I close the door. “But you have feelings for her.”
“I do. Mild annoyance right now. Nothing compared to how annoyed I am with you.”
“Oh, great start.”
“Of course I have feelings for her, Sarah. I grew up with her and I married her. What I feel for her can’t exactly be summed up in a neat little word. But I don’t love her. I don’t talk to her and I don’t think about her. I haven’t for a very long time.”
“Then why did you go to see her?”
“To sign the divorce papers,” he says. “I want to finalize the divorce.”
“And figure out what you feel about her?” I persist stubbornly.
“I don’t feel anything for her!” he exclaims. “Hence the fecking divorce!”
“Paul said—”
“Paul doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“He said you refused to sign them when she asked. He said you thought she would change her mind and that’s why you never went through with it.”
It’s like I’ve struck him. He stares at me, dumbfounded, his mouth forming words even though he makes no sound. “He thinks I refused?”
“That’s what he said.”
“That’s not true. I mean, yes, at the time I didn’t want her to leave me but I also wasn’t about to trap her in some marriage she wanted no part of. Is that what everyone thinks?” He looks genuinely perturbed. So much so I almost believe him.
“Then why didn’t you go through it?’
“Because it’s expensive! Do you know how much it costs to get divorced? I could barely afford to pay my rent and she wasn’t doing much better. Not with her student loans. So, we agreed on a separation period for a year or two while we got our shit together.”
“It’s been a year or two and you both seem to be doing pretty well for yourselves.”
“You really overestimate how much I earn running a bar, don’t you?”
“So why go to her now? After all this time you just suddenly thought, oh hey, better scratch that off my to-do list.”
“Because I thought—” He breaks off suddenly and I realize that this, this moment right here, is what he didn’t want to talk abou
t. He still doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s watching me like I’m a scared animal who’s about to bolt.
“Because,” he repeats, calmer this time, “I thought there was… is the beginning of something big between us. And I didn’t want her hanging over my head. Hanging over both our heads. I went to see her to finish that part of my life. So that when I did tell you about it, I could answer your questions. So you wouldn’t have any doubt.”
I stare at him, searching for any sign he’s lying to me. When I don’t respond he turns and goes back to the sofa, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his face as if he’s suddenly exhausted.
“You told me you didn’t want a relationship and I’ll be honest with you, Sarah, I wasn’t planning on one either. Not with the bars so busy and the business finally beginning to take off. But nor am I stupid enough to turn my back on something good just because I wasn’t expecting it. I kept messing things up when it came to you and I wanted so badly to get this part right. I wanted to tie up that part of my life so you wouldn’t look at me like that.”
I blink, realizing I’m staring at him. His gaze drops to the coffee table, his shoulders rounded in on himself.
“So, you signed them?” I ask once I’ve organized my thoughts.
“No.”
“No?”
“She refused.”
“She… why?”
“I don’t know.” He sounds very, very tired. “I don’t know what she’s thinking. She seemed confused.”
“I’m not,” I say. “There’s only one reason she wouldn’t sign them. She wants to get back together with you.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to get back together with her.” His head snaps up, his lips a thin line. “How many times do I have to say that? Or have I been talking to the ether this entire time?”
I glare at him, letting him know that I am the only person allowed to be angry right now.
“Why don’t people talk about it?” I ask. “Why didn’t Paul tell Annie about her? Why all the lies? How come in Kilgorm you—”
One Night Only: An absolutely hilarious and uplifting romantic comedy Page 25