‘Look, the agency does it all for you. I already put your details into the site, a lot of details by the way.’ She shoots me a knowing look. ‘You wouldn’t believe the amount of stuff they want to know about you. There was literally four hundred questions. It’s a good job I’ve known you forever. Then the system pairs you with your most compatible match and arranges the date at a restaurant they believe you will both enjoy, based on the four hundred aforementioned questions.’
‘Seriously?’ I have to pick my jaw up off the floor.
‘No scrolling, no awkward texts, no booty calls. Just a good old-fashioned blind date. And if for some reason you guys don’t hit it off, they do all the searching again and line up a date for the following week. That’s what you’re paying for, well not you, but that’s why they charge the big money.’
Grabbing a spoon from Geri’s top drawer, I scoop the salted caramel delight straight from the tub into my mouth.
‘Come on, Amy, this is such an opportunity. This agency is supposed to be the best there is. It’s not called Finding Forever for nothing. The website claims ninety-two per cent of their matches go on to date their first match long-term. The pictures posted over the webpage show at least six different couples’ wedding days, backed up by testimonies of how wonderful the service is and how grateful they are.’
‘Huh. Marketing tricks. Nothing surer.’
‘Cosmodid a huge write up on it three weeks ago; I’m telling you, Amy, this is the real deal.’
‘Since when do you have time to readCosmoanymore?’ Geri spent her teenage years reading problem pages and pining after Westlife and other such celebrities, where I’ve always preferred to readMen’s Health, taking Eddie’s whenever he was out at training.
‘Since I had to take the twins to the dentist and I scavenged a weathered copy from the waiting room. Don’t change the subject. Just please, tell me you’ll go. What have you got to lose?’
In all honesty, she’s right. Maybe I should take the help while I can get it, because it’s going to take a professional to get Ollie Quinn off my mind.
‘If my date turns out to be a geriatric, silver-haired-want-to-be-fox, I’m never speaking to you ever again.’
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’ She laughs.
My elbow nudges her gently in the ribs as she takes a spoon from the drawer and the tub from my hands, digging in before the kids can catch us.
* * *
Keira’s bag of pre-baby clothes is out again, its contents haphazardly scattered all over my bed. For a woman normally barely out of a tracksuit, I feel like I’m rarely in one at the minute, aside from work of course.
Selecting a high-neck, floor-length satin dress, I have to wonder where the hell did Keira think she was going? Perhaps she had a secret inkling Eddie was going to propose to a successful beauty queen who regularly hosts exclusive parties and launches. Or perhaps she had a problem burning plastic. Either way, tonight I’m grateful for it.
Pinching a little colour into my cheeks, I add the tiniest amount of highlighter, bronzer and mascara. There’s absolutely no point in putting on make-up when I don’t normally. It’ll never be right and I’ll end up looking like a clown. Besides? Who am I trying to impress? As far as I know, this is strictly a Harrington/Harvey event, with a few of Emma’s celebrity friends and beauty vloggers.
I arrive at the salon an hour late and walk straight into the chaos that is my family. Mam, Dad, Keira, Declan and Matthew congregate by the floor-to-ceiling windows, even though the only thing visible in the glass is themselves. The view is breathtaking during the day. It’s one of the reasons celebrities come from all over the country to indulge themselves here. That and the fact Emma is fast becoming one in her own right.
‘Amy, you made it.’ I’m immediately engulfed with hugs and kisses and handed some sort of champagne cocktail which will no doubt blow my head off. Eddie ruffles my hair while Emma moves on to work the small, select crowd, speaking to each and every person in the room that she passes.
I stick close to Matthew, my oldest brother. He’s flying solo; his wife’s at home in their house a few doors down minding their children and Keira’s kids too. At least with him by my side, I don’t feel like a complete spare part. He’s solid, without ever being overbearing. Eddie means well, I’m certain, but Matthew is way less intense.
Mam homes in on the two of us, her cheeks flushed a deep rouge from the drink. ‘Amy, how’s the job going? Eddie says you’re settling in well.’ She runs a hand over the satin dress on my back, stroking me the way you might rub a pet.
‘It’s going well, I think. Early days.’
‘And have any of those handsome men caught your eye?’ She leans in and delivers a less-than-subtle nudge to my ribs, just as the front door opens and Ollie Quinn waltzes in almost as though he’s been summoned. Butterflies swell within at the sight of him in a black tuxedo and crisp white shirt, a far cry from his usual attire but one he wears ridiculously well. His head looks freshly shaved and his face is tanned golden from the outdoor training this week.
Our eyes meet; his soulful pools of Caribbean green widen as he scans my outfit, roaming from my bare collarbones to the flash of thigh exposed by a single split in Keira’s otherwise conservative dress. His mesmerising gaze returns to mine, exuding the same devastating appeal he held the first night we met. Does he feel it? My attraction for him is so powerful, I’m surprised everyone in the room isn’t gawping.
Eddie butts in, his loud scoff demanding attention. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mam. Our Amy has got better taste than that! She’s going to marry a nice doctor, or perhaps a respectable dentist, not one of these brutes.’
‘Might I remind you, you are one of those ‘brutes’.’ Mam’s elbow turns to Eddie this time, I’d say he barely even noticed it against his taut torso.
‘Exactly! I know what they’re like. It’s the precise reason none of them are getting anywhere near her.’ He takes a mouthful from his drink, not realising his immediate and arrogant dismissal of anyone he deems inappropriate for me has sparked a match under a bubbling hot canister of oil. If Mam doesn’t have a problem with me dating a rugby player, why should he? Maybe it’s timeIdecide who I can and can’t date?
One ill-considered judgement at fifteen doesn’t give him the right to decide the fate of every man I want to date. I’m beginning to wonder if his ‘honourable intentions’ are more about what’s good for him, than me. God forbid he might have to share one of his teammates with his baby sister. Sure, there’s always been a sense of safety with him looking out for me, but I think I might be finally ready to risk venturing into the real world. I had a good grasp on the Stuart situation, even before Ollie barged in.
Eddie ruffles my hair again, before turning to find his fiancée. It’s the final straw; something in me snaps. The goody two shoes transforms from a pair of comfortable, flat black Clarks court shoes into a pair of sexy six-inch Louboutins, in a violent crimson, gleaming with that fresh-out-of-the-box look.
‘Everyone wants me to find someone nice, yet the second I try and date a guy, he’s scrutinised, dissected and dismissed before I’ve even had the chance to decide ifIlike him,’ I tell Matthew, with a pointed look. ‘I’m beginning to think “nice” might be a little overrated.’
