Page 28 of One Night Only
“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 talk 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.”
“Isthere 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’sexhausting. 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.
