‘But who?’ I’ve failed to come up with even one suitable candidate that might consider helping me.
The waitress returns carrying a tray with a chrome wine cooler and four champagne flutes.
‘We didn’t order champagne,’ Kerry says.
My empty tummy lurches at the sight of the Moët being placed in the wine chiller This is too much of a coincidence. I glance nervously around, scanning the room for any sign of him.
‘I was told to bring this over for “Abby and her friends”. That is you?’ She looks at me for confirmation and places the crystal glasses in front of us.
I nod, pretending it’s the most natural occurrence in the world. I eventually spot Mr Hot Robe Guy wedged in at the bar between four other gigantic men. Their shoulders make his look small, and that’s no mean feat. I wonder if they’re brothers. Reminding myself his name is Callum, not Mr Hot Robe Guy, the image of him in his swimwear rebelliously rises to the forefront of my mind.
‘Probably one of your mad fans that listen to the show.’ Kerry happily accepts the glass without giving it a second thought. As small as she is, she certainly likes to put them away.
‘Oh, you’re Ask Abby from Ireland Today,’ the waitress says. ‘I absolutely love your show. My favourite was the one where the mothers who had their babies taken from them by the nuns got the chance to have their say. Oh my God, I was bawling.’ Emotion cracks in her voice as she remembers.
I nod again, lost for words for the second time in one day, uncertain why I’m so uncomfortable with this. The only reason I can conjure is that Callum is the most attractive man I’ve ever set eyes on, and I’ve been having explicit thoughts about him ever since I did exactly that.
It’s not the first time I’ve been hit on. I’ve had practice dismissing advances, become ridiculously good at it. So much so that my colleagues and cronies have labelled me a staunch feminist, which I’m not. I believe in equality, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t exactly fight for it, content in my own life. I could do a lot more for the cause if I chose to. In fact, I probably should. I know for a fact that some of my colleagues wonder secretly if I’m a lesbian. There had been rumours about me and Candice. Probably started by Sally, again.
Today, and tonight for that matter, should be no different to any other time I’ve been hit on, but it’s not. Callum is infuriating and intriguing, and he’s penetrating my pores. He’s the kind of man I would have avoided like the plague, even before Sean Fitzpatrick broke my heart.
‘Well the Irish rugby team must like your show,’ the waitress says with a smile. ‘Callum Connolly sent this over to you, and he knew exactly who you were.’
He’s a rugby player, for Ireland no less. It makes perfect sense; massive shoulders, overly confident, assertive and accustomed to getting his own way.
I don’t watch rugby, and even if I did, I probably still wouldn’t have recognised him. I dab the corner of my lips with a napkin in what I hope looks like a feminine gesture, but it’s a poor attempt to conceal the tell-tale smile, exposing my foolishly flattered face.
The girls giggle and stare, less than subtly, at the men at the bar.
‘Thank you,’ I mouth, hoping to convey that the outcome will still be the same.
A boyish grin appears on his face, assuring me that he’s far from receiving closure on his indecent proposal. A thousand butterflies flutter intrusively around my stomach. Butterflies that have no right to be there.
It’s a generous gesture, but it doesn’t change a thing.
‘Holy shit, Abby. You’re not going to say no to that, are you?’ Emma interrupts my thoughts abruptly.
‘It’s only a drink, albeit my favourite one.’
The same one we’d shared only half an hour ago, in my bedroom.
‘Men like him do not just want to buy you a drink,’ Karen says with a grin.
‘You know my policy on the situation, girls,’ I say.
‘So you got your heart broken. Haven’t we all been there at one stage or another?’ Emma shrugs her shoulders.
Karen winces.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Callum Connolly’s the biggest player going. And I don’t just mean on the rugby field.’ Kerry tactfully diverts the conversation back to Callum.
‘His reputation does precede him.’
‘He was dating one of those Victoria Secret models last year,’ Emma says.
‘Yeah, and before that, he was linked to one of the English Royals. You know the blonde cousin that’s always photographed drunk in the nightclubs?’ Karen says.
