Page 36 of The Last Saturday In July
His eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone was light. ‘None at all. So, what about you? Judging by your accent, you grew up in a comfortable Dublin suburb. You lived at home, rent-free and totally cosseted, while you swanned around in college for four years.’
Jess drew a steady breath. As the eldest daughter of an electrician and a nurse, she’d never swanned around anywhere. Her parents had often worked long, erratic hours when she was growing up, and she’d worked hard in college, determined to do well. She shouldn’t care what he thought: no doubt he already judged her after the weekend. Screw guys like Adam with their double standards.
‘We should go.’ She turned abruptly.
Adam reached out and caught her by the arm. ‘Sorry, that was out of line. I didn’t mean …’
‘You didn’t meanwhat?’ Shame and anger battled in her.
‘Any of it.’ He seemed sincere as he held her eyes. ‘Look, I feel we’re avoiding the elephant in the room. The truth is, I wish you’d waited around that Sunday morning on the Isle of Man. Actually, I wish you’d woken me up.’
The abrupt change of topic left her momentarily stunned. ‘Were you hoping for a romantic breakfast together?’ The words tumbled out, as heat rushed to her face. ‘Or maybe you fancied round two?’
Adam’s jaw clenched but a brief hurt expression crossed his features. For a moment, she thought he’d walk out.
Instead, he spoke quietly. ‘The thing is, Jess, I’m usually a pretty good judge of character. Which is why I don’t believe this whole act.’
‘It’s not an act.’ Her voice shook. She hated that he was right. But it was the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth – so he’d back off.
He looked at her closely. ‘I think it is.’
She was convinced her heart was trying to escape her chest. She had to leave. If she stayed here, she didn’t know if she could trust herself. All she had to do was walk away, but her feet were rooted to the tiled floor.
Adam stepped into the space between them and took her face between his hands. ‘I won’t kiss you if you say no.’ He waited.
Say no, Jess, it’s just one little word.Her breath fluttered like a butterfly in her throat, trapping the word.
Then he kissed her.
Chapter 15
NOT since the day she’d left home had Jess been so relieved to be going to her parents’ house for dinner without Simon. She inched her way through rush-hour traffic towards Dunlaoghaire as she listened to the AA traffic report and tried to figure out a faster route. Not that it mattered. ‘Why does any of it matter?’ she yelled at the radio, stabbing viciously at the dial to turn it off. ‘I’ve screwed up totally, and I’ll probably lose my job!’
The middle-aged woman driving in the adjacent lane shot her a worried look, and Jess quickly mouthed an apology and whizzed up her window. ‘Fuck it!’ Why had she let Adam kiss her like that? She’d stood there, in the church where she and Simon would exchange their vows and let herself be kissed. She could have easily stopped him. She had a mouth on her, as her mother often pointed out when she and Zoe were growing up. She’d a mouth on her all right, and she hadn’t used it to talk.
Nor had she just let it happen. In fact, if she were being perfectly honest, they were equal partners in all things intimate. The second she’d felt his lips against hers, she’d acted like nobody had kissed her in years, and her actual life depended on this particular meeting of mouths and tongues. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck and wriggled closer to him, and Adam had been more than happy to help her along. Had there been moaning? She was pretty sure she’d moaned. Her face burned at the memory. What was wrong with her? In a few weeks, she was going to be marrying the love of her life. Maybe she was a commitment-phobe. Everyone assumed that only men were afraid to commit. Why not women?
Except it couldn’t be that. After the initial shock of Simon’s proposal, she’d thrown herself into wedding plans with abandon. Or, at least, she’d gone along with them. She and Simon had decided on the church together, after Úna’s suggestion, obviously.
Zoe had agreed to be their photographer, and her mother had picked out her dress. Strictly speaking, Jess had chosen her own dress. But only because she knew her mother had fallen in love with it.
‘If Zoe ever gets married, she’ll probably wear jeans,’ Carmel had declared.
Zoe, who’d been with them at the time, had responded with an unladylike snort.
Jess had wanted to laugh, but wasn’t sure if she could, given howtight the bodice was. Instead, she’d given one final twirl in the eighteenth-century-style instrument of torture and declared it The One.
Choosing her bridesmaid had been easy. As the official photographer, Zoe had told Jess she’d have enough to do on the day. And Kate was her oldest, closest, and most capable friend. It was Kate who’d organised the website for the wedding gifts and had her own checklist of everything to be done between now and The Big Day.
Jess hadn’t even picked the wedding invitations. Úna had quickly offered to do that, and it had been easier to agree, than risk upsetting her future mother-in-law.
But if Úna was determined that her only son’s wedding rose to her exacting standards of elegance, Jess was pretty sure her own family would bring a bit of balance to the day.
Because there was nothing understated about her wedding dress. Or the huge, feathery hat her mother had bought. Or any of her mother’s sisters, all of whom were coming to the wedding with her equally wonderful uncles-in-law. She felt a bit better by the time she pulled up outside the dilapidated Victorian house on the coast road.
Just as she put her key in the lock, Carmel Bradley flung open the door, wearing a T-shirt and baggy jeans, and what could have been very old hospital clogs.
‘Come in, Jess!’
