Page 20 of One Night Only
“You think because your parents divorced you somehow beat a cousin who’s spent the last twenty years trying to start a nudist movement on the west coast of Ireland, a great aunt who collects toothbrushes—”
“Toothbrushes?”
“I’m just saying, if you want to corner the market on family drama, you’re going to have to give me a lot more than that.”
“I…You want more?”
He shrugs. “Usually Americans are much better at this game. There are a lot of cults in your country.”
I watch him, unsure. But he no longer looks like he’s trying to cut me down. If anything, he looks like he wants to cheer me up.
“If you impress me,” he adds. “I’ll introduce you to the cousin.”
I almost laugh then. Almost.
“Alright,” I say. “How’s this? They divorced because my mom had an affair with my soccer coach.”
Declan’s eyes widen and I raise my empty glass.
“That’smy thing.”
“It’s a great thing,” he says, sounding impressed. “Very traumatic.”
“I like to think so.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
He lets out a low whistle.
“A very uncomplicated, unemotional age.” I hesitate. “I was a mess.”
“But look at you now,” he says as I reach for a fresh bottle.
I shoot him a glare but it’s half-hearted.
“That sucks,” he says, more gently. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well… It was a long time ago. She’s married to a man called Phil now. He works in insurance.”
“Let me guess,” Declan says. “At your wedding, I get to sit with them.”
“Oh no, you’ll be with Uncle Alan. He’ll spend three hours trying to get you to join his pyramid scheme.”
He smiles then and my stomach dips at the sight of it. It’s the first real one I’ve seen from him all night and I wonder if we’ve reached a kind of truce. If we can finally stop this back and forth and agree that the whole situation isn’t ideal for either of us.
Declan seems to think the same thing.
“Alright,” he says after a beat. “Why don’t we start—”
“Declan?”
I lean back, startled as a tall, fair-haired man in his early fifties appears behind him. Declan tenses for an instant, something almost like alarm flashing across his face before he relaxes again, turning to face the newcomer.
“Robert,” he greets as the man takes the vacated seat beside him. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Just for tonight,” Robert says. “I missed the drinks reception. Got kept back at the office.” His voice is quiet, measured. I like him instantly. “It’s good to see you. Paul said you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”
