Page 70 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin
Belinda finally speaks. ‘Sorry to be a pain in the hole here, but I’ve a church full of wedding guests and a pint of Bulmers and a roast beef dinner waiting for me in Howth, and I for one could eat a scabby man’s leg through a gatepost. Peter R.?’ They all look to their big brother for the next steps.
‘Absolutely. This is your day. Let’s go make an honest woman of you.’ Donal props his hand on his hip and Belinda links her arm through his.
‘Yes, go, please,’ I say. ‘I can walk home, it’s not that far. Have the best day, sorry, again.’
‘You sure?’ Donal checks as he straightens his tie.
‘Quite sure.’ I nod, as I take a few steps backwards.
Amanda claps her hands. ‘Right, let’s get this one up the aisle!’
‘Bombs away!’ Denise declares, fixing the bottom of Belinda’s dress. It takes every fibre of my being not to adjust the train myself.
‘Everything will be fine.’ Kathleen arches up on the tippy-toes of her Chanel kitten heels and whispers in my ear. ‘He really likes you, and he hasn’t liked anyone in so, so long. Love is a complicated thing .?.?. I met Marina, my girlfriend, on a couple’s retreat. We were both there with our boyfriends!’ She laughs heartily. ‘But when you know, you know, right?’
‘Let’s go, gang,’ Donal tells them and they gather in a line.
I slip away.
No one calls after me. I finally allow the tears to fall.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I trudge over Ringsend Bridge towards the city centre. I feel as stupefied as I did that day in Portofino, when I’d hauled myself along the golden sands of Bagni Fiore beach in my lemon kaftan to the nearest bar after Logan had texted me. I don’t evenfeellike myself anymore. I’m not sure who I am? Or what I’ve done to feel so bad? My foot slips out of my heavy Dr. Scholl and I graze my big toe off the cement, chipping the edge of the red polish.
‘Seriously?’ I wave my fist to the blue, cloudless sky, then slip my foot back in and move on at a slower pace.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Donal and I would get on so well when I asked him for that cup of coffee in Fallon & Byrne. I never thought that we’d really like one another, feel so happy in each other’s company. I stop in my tracks, look over at the rippling water, the sunshine bouncing off it, white foam ripples pirouetting. I pull my phone out of my bag and dial Mia. She answers after one ring.
‘I just heard about everything. He’s already home,’ are the first words out of her mouth. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ I duck as a dangerously low-flying seagull glides powerfully just above my head. The last thing I need is to be shat on. So I power on, the rubber click-clacking off my heels.
‘I can’t believe Logan did that at the church!’ Mia says, anger peppering her voice.
‘Oh, I can. He didn’t get what he wanted from me last night,so he thought he’d woo me this way, making a public spectacle. He is an actor, after all. He loves an audience.’ A huge lorry belches black smoke as it roars past me. I wave my hand in front of my face to bat away the foul-smelling fumes.
‘But to stop someone’s wedding. Jesus. That’s some ego even for my bro-head brother,’ Mia shouts down the line over the noise.
I continue my walk up towards Pearse Street, index finger in my free ear to block out the traffic.
‘Dad’s in J.P. Carey’s van outside, Grace. He’s only got it for an hour. Marek’s here to help, too. I’m meant to go to clear out my stuff from Dalkey, but I’ll drop all this and be with you in a heartbeat if you need me.’
‘I’m more than a little bit smitten with Donal, I think,’ I tell her.
‘I know, love,’ she says sweetly. ‘I saw it first-hand that day you walked into my house in your green-leaf print dress. You looked a little glassy eyed as you told me about the half a date you had with this confusingly nice guy. And well, last night, then I felt it in your heart.’
I hear a honk of a horn down the line. Then Charlie barks, always at home in Mia’s parents’ house, where he’ll be spoilt rotten until Mia’s settled in Belfast.
‘Go,’ I tell her. ‘Say hi to Marek.’
‘I will. He’s really happy for me to stay in touch, but just as friends. Are you sure you don’t need me?’
I lean against a shelter of a bus stop. ‘I’m sure. I want to be on my own for a while to wallow.’
I hit the red button ending our call. How have I wasted so much precious time pining? Daydreaming, night-dreaming and fantasising about Logan Hunter? Then, even more time planning on what I’d say, do and wear when I came face-to-face with him again? Praying I could get him back. The irony that thetime he finally turned his key in our flat door was on his fourth trip back to Dublin makes me angry. I get angrier as hot tears sprout in my eyes. I ruined my internship atFerguson Brophyfor him and the anger is only really hitting me now. I always believed he needed his career more than I did mine. I fume.
Stupid woman.
