Page 54 of A Merry Irish Christmas
It was only nine-thirty when they got in. Mary wasn’t ready to go to bed, but she also didn’t want to crowd Evan. He’d done his bit being sociable, so it was only fair to give him some alone time.
‘Want to watch something?’ he asked, flopping onto the sofa and nodding to the TV.
‘Sure,’ Mary said readily. ‘I mean, if you like,’ she added. ‘You don’t have to. If you’d rather be alone…’
‘No, I’d like you to join me.’ He patted the sofa beside him invitingly.
‘Okay, then. Drink?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘What would you like? I’m going to have Bailey’s, but we’ve got most things.’
‘I’ll have Bailey’s too.’
Mary poured them both big measures, then joined Evan on the sofa, putting the bottle on the coffee table in front of them.
‘Let’s see what’s on.’ He pointed the remote at the TV and brought up the menu.
‘Oh,Sleeping with the Enemyis about to start,’ Mary said. ‘I love that!’
‘You do? Me too.’
‘Perfect.’ She took a sip of Bailey’s and sank back against the sofa cushions as the credits rolled.
They watched in companionable silence apart from murmuring the odd comment to each other, until it came to the scene where Julia Roberts was goofing around in the theatre,trying on a procession of different outfits as ‘Brown-Eyed Girl’ played on the soundtrack. Suddenly tears were spilling down Mary’s face and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Where the hell had that come from? She tried to brush them away surreptitiously, but Evan saw.
‘Hey! What’s wrong?’ He put an arm around her and pulled her into a hug. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll find an outfit that works any minute now, just wait and see.’
Mary laughed through a sob and swiped at her eyes.
‘Julia’s a tall, stunningly beautiful woman. There’ll be something that looks good on her, trust me.’
Mary giggled. ‘Stop making me laugh.’
‘Sorry. What happened?’ He frowned in concern.
She shook her head. ‘It’s just this—’ She waved her hand towards the screen. ‘It reminds me of my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Seriously? Did he line up the canned goods in a creepy way? Rearrange the towel rail when you least expected it?’
She laughed. ‘No, it’s that song.’
‘“Brown-Eyed Girl”?’
‘Yeah.’ She wiped her tears away. ‘He loved that song. Whenever it came on the radio, he’d light up and want to dance around the room with me. He’d always sing along like the words had special meaning for him. And I knew they did.’ Her voice cracked on a sob.
‘So it was kinda your song?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s the thing. My eyes are blue.’
He nodded. ‘I noticed. Still, you can’t blame the dude for that. So you were his metaphorical brown-eyed girl. It’s not like he wrote it for you. Unless— Wait, was your boyfriend Van Morrison?’
‘No!’
‘I mean, you could do worse.’
‘He’s a bit old for me. And short.’
