ABBY
The very minute of the precise day that I make a conscious effort to move on, Sean Fitzpatrick waltzes back into my life with the audacity to call me his fiancée. On national radio, no less. Once the initial shock subsides, I’m spitting pure rage. How dare he?
Callum sits opposite me in a cocktail bar just off Grafton Street. It’s thinning out after the lunchtime rush. We attract a few stares, but nobody approaches. My thunderous mood must be palpable. It isn’t exactly how I imagined the afternoon developing after our encounter in the cupboard not two hours earlier.
‘I can’t believe that bollocks would do that to me.’
Callum leans across the table and takes my hand. I don’t brush him away. ‘What happened? You don’t have to tell me if it’s private, but I’ll happily listen.’
Funnily enough, after his confession in the cupboard, I’d love to talk to him about it. I brought him on so the women of the country could benefit from the male perspective, yet here I am cashing in on it.
I take a deep breath and begin. ‘Sean was my childhood sweetheart, my only sweetheart, actually. We were engaged.’ I glance up to see if he understands what I’m telling him, that there’s only ever been one man in my life. ‘Mammy, my sister Alicia and three of my closest school friends gathered in our house in Carrick the day before our wedding. Neighbours popped in and out throughout the day with cards and well wishes. Relations from Canada and the States were settling into the hotel where the reception was booked. I strutted confidently around the house in a white personalised dressing gown emblazoned with ‘Mrs Fitzpatrick’ with no idea of the shitstorm that was headed my way.’
Callum listens intently, lavishing his undivided attention on me, while I divulge the woeful humiliating story of my life.
‘Daddy pretended having a house full of hyperactive women was unbearable, but he’d been secretly thrilled to be a part of it, refilling our glasses and making a fuss. Then, around midnight, I received a text message from Sean. He said he couldn’t go through with it. At first, I thought it was some kind of sick joke, the best man’s idea of a stupid prank. His phone went straight to voicemail, and when I rang his parents’ house, his mother confirmed Sean left almost two hours earlier with a rucksack.
I couldn’t even cry. The humiliation was unbearable. One hundred and fifty-four invitations had been issued. The photographer was due to arrive in nine hours. Everything was booked and paid for. All he had to do was turn up, but it had been too much to ask.
Daddy drove almost two hours to Dublin Airport. Of course, by then, Sean was long gone. Weeks afterwards, I heard he’d booked a one-way ticket to Australia. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.’
Callum’s exhales a slow thoughtful breath. ‘Wow. Who does that to someone they love? And in a text message? The guy is obviously a complete dick.’
My sorry little secret’s out. Callum knows everything. This agony aunt to the nation is the biggest fraud going. Clearly, no one should take my advice – I can’t even sort my own life out, let alone anyone else’s. It had been devastating at the time, but the worst part about the entire episode, I Hadn’t Seen It Coming.
It’s barely a dull ache now, rather than the soldering gaping wound that once consumed me. Shame and humiliation still ring through me, one of the reasons why I don’t go home as much as I should. My sister barely speaks to me. When I left Carrick, I left behind everything that reminded me of Sean. For my own sanity, that included my family and friends. By the time I’d healed enough to reach out again, Alicia had moved on in her own life. I’d done what I had to, at the time, to survive. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, I simply hadn’t known what else to do. To this day, I can’t even drive by The Landmark Hotel without feeling nauseous.
The psychotherapy degree helped me to process my thoughts differently, allowing me to feel them and deal with them, rather than harbour them while they silently fester away at my soul. But no matter how hard I try to convince myself that the problem lay with him and not me, I’ve never fully shaken the feeling I must have done something to drive him away for him to leave me like that.
Callum moves across the table to sit next to me, slipping an arm around my shoulder. I wonder if I should brush it away, then I realise that ship has long since sailed following our second explosive and unavoidable kiss.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell him.
‘Why on earth are you apologising to me? I’m sorry he did that to you. I’m sorry I can’t drop-kick his sorry ass for you right now.’
I smile, picturing it.
‘Seriously, Abby, you are one of the most amazing people I know. The guy’s a fool. You’re the entire package. Brains, beauty, heart and soul. I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to get into your knickers, by the way. Although I am actually hoping that’s still a runner…’ He winks at me.
Something in me begins to stir. I struggle to place an unfamiliar feeling descending. It comes to me then, like a flash of lightning – the possibility of hope. Callum’s easy acceptance of my past offers a different perspective. He doesn’t think it was my fault, and he’s a guy. A gorgeous, successful, intelligent one at that.
‘I’m not sorry that you aren’t married, by the way.’ Callum’s intensity scorches me from the inside out.
‘Me too.’ I love how he brings it back to us.
He gazes at me with a newfound tenderness that I’m still adjusting to.
It’s time I got my life back on track, my new life, the one in which I’m about to have filthy sex with Callum Connolly. I take out some lip gloss, generously reapply it, and fluff up my hair.
Sean’s reappearance earlier forced me to admit the truth of my past to Callum, and because of this, our understanding has reached a whole new level. Sean had been my childhood sweetheart; we were getting married, our future was set in stone, yet it wasn’t. Callum, on the other hand, has had more women than I’ve had hot dinners. Yet here he is, claiming to want something more for the first time. For some crazy reason, I’m inclined to trust him. There’s an earnest vulnerability that he fails to fully conceal, no matter how arrogantly he acts.
I’m finally ready to move on, and Callum Connolly’s the man I’m going to move on with. My secret’s out, I’m damaged goods, yet he still wants me. I refuse to fight my feelings any longer, though I can’t promise I won’t send him running for the hills or the nearest plane.
Callum finishes his drink and pulls me to my feet, enveloping me in a protective embrace. He leads me into the street outside and hails the next passing cab.
‘My place or yours?’ This time it’s for real.
