Page 58 of Fling

‘That was just a fluke,’ he said.

‘Or maybe all it needed was a woman’s touch. Just like this room,’ Tara teased.

‘Oh yes, like you secretly lighting the candles.’

‘But doesn’t it make everything so much more romantic?’

‘I think they pair perfectly with my pub signs. It’s like our own little private shebeen.’

‘It would be even nicer if it wasn’t in my living room,’ Tara said as she sculled her wine. ‘Time for a refill. You get cosy, I’ll bring in the bottle for us.’

Colin sat down on the couch and made himself comfortable. Tara brought the bottle of Malbec in from the kitchen and refilled both their glasses. For a split second, the image of the hostess spilling Malbec all over her dress flashed into her mind. What would have happened if she stayed at The Vine instead of fleeing out the back? What if she was destined to meet Jack but had ruined everything by running?

No, she couldn’t let those kind of intrusive thoughts in. She had to focus on making date night with Colin a success.

‘I can’t get over how good this wine is,’ she said, bringing the glass to her nose to smell the aroma. ‘I’m getting undertones of cherry and oak. What are you getting?’

‘Hammered,’ Colin joked as he took a generous gulp.

‘Aww this is nice, isn’t it? We haven’t had a movie night together in ages.’

‘Yeah, because we can never agree on a movie. You always say “you pick” and then every time I pick something you say “not that one”.’

‘But you always pick the right one eventually,’ Tara smiled.

‘And then you fall asleep five minutes into the movie and I’m left watching some rom-com on my own!’ Colin whined.

‘Oh stop whinging. You’re not the most fun person to watch movies with either, you know,’ Tara said, slagging him back.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Every time you see an actor you recognize, it’s always, “What was he in before? Yer man with the face”,’ Tara said, imitating Colin. ‘Then you spend the next ten minutes on Wikipedia looking up some B-list actor’s entire filmography instead of actually watching the feckin’ film!’

‘Thankfully we’re watching our wedding video so I’ll know everyone on the screen,’ Colin said picking up the remote.

Colin put his arm around her and hit play on the DVD menu. A title card appeared on screen that read ‘This video is to celebrate the holy matrimony of Colin O’Hara and Tara Fitzsimons’. The title card faded to an opening shot outside a stunning cathedral that people in formal wear were entering. There were some vox-pop-style interviews outside the cathedral with messages to Tara and Colin.

Rory suddenly appeared on screen, full of energy. He was in his early twenties and had some not-so-mysterious white powder on his septum.

‘Good God, was Rory off his face at our wedding?’ Tara asked, shocked.

‘Would you expect anything less?’ Colin laughed.

‘True, he was born with a silver spoon up his nose.’

Rory began to speak directly to the camera on the screen. ‘Cameraman, what do you call a funeral for two people?’ The cameraman didn’t respond. ‘A wedding!’ Rory said, laughing hysterically.

‘He really is one of a kind,’ Colin laughed.

‘I certainly hope so,’ Tara said.

‘I still think there’s a woman out there for him somewhere,’ Colin said, sipping his wine.

‘God help her.’

Tara’s former boss Tom O’Malley appeared on screen.

‘Oh my God, look at Tom,’ Tara said, her heart filling up.

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