ABBY
Twice this week, I arranged to meet Karen for a late lunch, to check up on her after her revelation. Twice, she cancelled on me at the last minute. I get the distinct impression she’s avoiding me. It’s not like her.
In contrast, I’ve spoken to Callum every day, both of us desperate to hang on to the bridge that we forged, fearing the other might slip back to the familiarity of the masks that are easier to shelter behind.
It took a lot to admit our truths. For me, it was a relief to voice them. By hiding behind my fear, I’ve been holding on to it. I’m lighter than I’ve been in years. The last person in the world that I would have expected to attribute that to is Callum Connolly. Yet his vulnerability mirrored my own. In sharing it, we’re united by more than just lust. This has promising potential for the other L-word…though it’s far too early to speculate yet.
A bouquet of a hundred roses arrives at the studio with my name on the label. The only thing missing is an accompanying note.
‘Not exactly original,’ Sally sneers as I pass her in the corridor on my way out.
Regardless of my escalating feelings for Callum, I’m unconvinced about his role on my show, on a permanent basis. Candice reckons Sally No Soul is pulling out all the stops to up her ratings, to win the competition for the trip to New York. Amazingly, only a short time ago, it seemed like the most important thing in the world. Now, since the start of my new unpredicted relationship with Callum, I’ve barely given it another thought.
Sally’s enticing listeners with daily competitions, gig tickets, prize money and a live slot to meet the team and co-host her show. I admire her determination. The other presenters have more or less given up after Callum stole the show on Monday. He received the highest ratings of any show to date. It’s going to be almost impossible to beat.
I text Karen checking if she’s ok before heading out for a long run. The afternoon’s balmy in Dublin. The good weather promises to hold for the next few days at least. It’ll break soon though. It always does in Ireland.
The commuter rush has begun. Traffic’s backed up around the city; hurrying feet pound the pavements. I opt for a familiar route around Phoenix Park. It’s only been a week since the Pieta House fundraiser, yet everything has changed.
Images of Callum’s perfectly toned physique invade my mind as I loop back on myself past a yoga-in-the-park session. I’m desperate to feel his arms around me again. Mentally, I scan my wardrobe for an outfit for our date tonight. It helps pass the time while my legs do the hard work. I finish back where I parked at the entrance to Dublin Zoo, and stretch my hamstring, leaning on my red Mini for support.
Tiny hairs prickle abruptly on the back of my neck. Despite the pleasant weather, a cold shudder rips through my core. I have a weird, uncomfortable sensation someone’s watching me. I glance around the vicinity. Several cars down from mine, a figure rests casually against the bonnet of a black Golf.
It looks suspiciously like someone I used to know. The lean frame distinctly familiar, but the full identity protected by a baseball cap and retro-looking sunglasses. Rugged stubble disguises the lower half of his face. He turns away as I notice him. I fumble, inserting the key onto the dash and nudge the car into the swarm of Friday afternoon traffic, sweaty legs sticking distastefully to the leather interior. I don’t look back until I’m safely out of the car park. I don’t want to confirm what I already know. Sean Fitzpatrick’s back in Ireland. In Dublin, no less. And he’s watching me.
Only when I reach the security of my own front door does my hammering heart slow. What does he want after all this time? And why does the thought of seeing him terrify the living daylights out of me?
I busy myself with a shower and attempt to push all thoughts of him out of my mind.
An hour later, Callum arrives in his grey Jeep. I fling open the front door before he has the chance to even step out of his vehicle. The mere sight of him sets unruly butterflies wild within me once again.
Callum is visual Viagra for women. A slow smile spreads across my face as his long, powerful legs swing out from the driver’s seat. He pushes his Ray-Bans onto his head to get a closer look at me.
‘Do you want to leave the house at all tonight?’ He eyes my black low-cut dress appreciatively and strolls confidently up the tiny narrow path to where I’m barefoot on the top step.
The curtains next door twitch again. I’m fairly sure Mrs Boyle is copping an eyeful of absolutely every exchange between us. Nosy neighbours are something I’d hoped to leave in Carrick, though God love her, she always takes my parcels for me.
Callum presses his full lips against mine, searing me with dizzying intensity. We back into the hallway and slam the door without breaking our kiss. Considering I’d only recently allowed him into my life, it’s been a long few days without him.
He lifts me into his muscular arms, effortlessly wrapping my legs around his waist. Supporting the nape of my neck with a reassuring hand, he leans me gently against the wall, moulding my figure to his, our tongues dancing an explicit tango.
My strawberry lip gloss sticks sweetly over his mouth. I imagine covering the rest of him in it, but he breaks away, gazing wistfully into my eyes. Raw, unfiltered desire ebbs at me and the reflection in his prolonged stare reassures me it’s mutual. Earnest eyes bare his soul. How had I failed to realise the heart-swelling depth to this man until only a week ago? He can hide behind his reputation and those Ray-Bans no more.
‘We’re late,’ he groans.
‘Where exactly are we going?’ I smooth down my dress and attempt to regulate my erratic heart.
‘Marcus’s house,’ he says.
‘Marcus the Barbarian?’ I check.
‘The very same.’ He chuckles and kisses the back of my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. ‘He’s actually a great guy, if a little brash. They host a party every summer before the league starts again.’
He looks at me like I should know what he’s talking about.
‘You know most of us play provincial rugby as well?’ he checks.
‘Of course.’ I had a vague idea.
