A message from Callum pings through, he’s obviously reviewed the evidence of our exceptionally public kiss. It’s fine for him. He’s used to people commenting on his love life. I’m used to commenting on everyone else’s.
Callum: I have the proof in black and white now, you CANNOT deny it. Give us a chance, Abs.
PS Looks like we’re going to New York.
Give us a chance? He can’t be serious. Men like him are all about the challenge. The scandal will do wonders for my ratings, shame I’m right in the epicentre of it. New York has shot to the back of my brain. At the minute, I have more pressing problems.
The most pressing one, currently, being my mother. She’s probably horrified that her unmarried daughter is plastered all over the papers, sucking the face off one of Ireland’s most famous sports stars.
I only pray she’ll buy the story of the publicity stunt for the show. My running gear sticks to me. I need a shower, but better to get all my sweating over and done with in one go.
‘Hello?’ I brace myself for the onslaught.
‘Abby Magdelena Queenan, have you seen yourself in the paper today?’ Mammy says loudly.
‘Sorry, Mammy. I—’ I don’t get the chance explain before she cuts over me.
‘Fair play to you, girl.’
My mouth drops in shock, and I wonder if aliens have landed and disguised themselves as the human form of my devoutly Catholic mother.
‘Your father and I never thought we’d see the day that you got over what that slimy bollocks Sean Fitzpatrick did to you. And snagging such a handsome rugby player as well. I only hope Sean reads the Irish newspapers from whatever hole he’s hiding in.’
‘Thank you?’ Might be the right thing to say, although this is new territory for me and Mammy. Normally I get a curt nod and a pat on the back whenever we refer to anything remotely sensitive. We aren’t an outwardly emotional family.
‘When are you bringing him to meet us?’ Mammy demands. ‘Did you tell him about my fruit cake?’ Her fruit cake has won awards all over the county, and she’s very secretive of her recipe, unwilling to even share it with Alicia, or me.
I roll my eyes in despair. Mammy has an awful habit of inserting herself in the centre of everything. It’s a familiar trait, but it grates on me. Like the time she had to tell all of our family that Sean had jilted me practically at the altar. Irrelevant that I’d just been humiliatingly and heartbreakingly dumped the night before my wedding.
‘He’s busy with training, Mam, but we’ll get down soon, okay?’ I cross my fingers and hope I won’t go to hell for lying. There’s no way I’d ever bring Callum to Carrick, and there’s no way he’d want to go either.
‘Bring him home for the weekend. We’d love to see ye. Tell him about my cake. Abby, I hate nagging, but you don’t come home anywhere near enough’
She’s right, but I have my reasons.
‘Say hi to Daddy for me. Bye, Mam.’ I exhale a sigh of relief. It could have been worse.
Two further texts from Callum insist we at least talk. I don’t want to talk. I want to kiss every single solid inch of him, throw myself at his mercy and break every rule in my personal handbook. Instead, I force myself to do the complete opposite and don’t even acknowledge his messages. Longing eats me alive as I imagine what he might be doing for the rest of the weekend. Will he refer to his little black book and seek company elsewhere? I try not to go there. There would be no going back.
