ABBY
‘Did you speak to Callum yet?’ Candice’s jaw is tightly set, and she uses the haughty tone she specifically reserves for people who don’t respect her boundaries. Today’s T-shirt is rainbow coloured for gay pride and the slogan reads, Stroke It, Don’t Poke It.
A full week has passed. Despite my escalating feelings for Callum, I’ve reached the conclusion I don’t want him on my show on a permanent basis. I’m not afraid of him taking over, of living in his shadow. I’m more afraid that this won’t last, that I’ll drive him away somehow. If he breaks my heart, I’ll have to share a six-foot studio with him every day. If we were co-hosts on top of everything else, it would be unbearable.
‘I’ll ask him tonight.’ Only because Candice isn’t really giving me any other choice. But I certainly won’t be encouraging it.
I sigh dramatically, unable to conjure an answer to my problems. Aoife scans the incoming messages as U2 vibrates around the studio. ‘I have news.’ A knowing smile plays on her lips.
‘You’re not leaving me?’ I shoot a look at Candice, who we both adore, but jointly acknowledge is madder than a box of frogs.
‘For a short while.’ She places her hands on her tummy in a protective gesture.
‘Oh, Aoife. Congratulations.’ I throw my arms around her across the desk, and she weeps soft tears of joyous relief.
If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed, I might have guessed. I kick myself for not being more intuitive, only last year I’d cried with her as she confided a second miscarriage. I hadn’t realised her struggles, and the topic on the show that day centred around accidental pregnancies and the abortion rules in Ireland.
‘How far gone are you?’ I squeeze her hand gently with encouragement.
‘Sixteen weeks.’ Please God this time, she’d get to hold her baby in her arms and watch it grow into a healthy boy or girl.
‘Congratulations darhlingggg…’ Candice air kisses Aoife, but as usual, her face barely twitches.
‘While we’re on the subject of announcements…’ Candice rubs her hands together in excitement. I couldn’t envisage her pregnant as well, but stranger things have happened.
‘There’s more good news confirmed.’
‘Go on.’ What else have I missed while consumed in my Abby/Callum bubble?
‘The final figures are in. The producers closed the competition early. You won, as I knew you would. No one could come close to you and they wanted to secure a date for the interview with M.O.D.E.R.N. ASAP.’ She pats my back and Aoife’s bump simultaneously.
‘This is fantastic news.’ I leap up from the chair and throw my arms around Aoife for the second time in the space of a minute. The three of us do our victory jig around the tiny studio.
‘When are we going?’ I turn to Aoife, who is already shaking her head.
‘Sorry, Abs, I’m not going anywhere.’ She places her hand over her tiny bump again. ‘Bring Callum. He deserves it, being his appearance that caused the frenzy.’
‘What date is it?’ I ask.
‘Fifteenth of August.’ Candice waves the itinerary in front of my face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My face drops.
‘Trouble in paradise?’ Candice asks intuitively.
‘Not exactly.’ The fifteenth of August is James and Nadine’s wedding. The exact reason Callum and I started ‘dating’ each other is now back to bite us in the backside.
James is his best friend. I know how badly he wants me to go with him. And it has nothing to do with an Audi at this stage. Yet this trip to interview M.O.D.E.R.N. is a once in a lifetime opportunity; it could do wonders for my career. My name will be in every newspaper on both sides of the Atlantic. There’s no way I can turn it down. The song ends, saving me from further questioning.
I leave work troubled, but force it to the back of my mind for now.
Karen is waiting for me in Temple Bar, one of our usual spots in the city.
‘You have the glow of a woman in love,’ Karen warns me over glass of wine.
‘I have the glow of a woman who is having lots of sex. It’s wildly different.’ Even as I viciously deny it, I recognise the truth of the matter.
I’m falling further in love with Callum than I ever was with Sean. That dizzying, lust fuelled, all-consuming passion, is plastered all over my face.
