As I turn away, I see him slide out past the girl.
He’s coming.
I feel, rather than see, him standing behind me.
‘Can I get a vodka, lemonade and lime please?’ I ask. So much for not wanting alcohol today. ‘Drink?’ I look over my shoulder at Dillon.
He shakes his head abruptly. He is still incredibly good-looking. He has lines around his eyes that weren’t there the last time we stood face to face, and salt-and-pepper strands of hair around his temples.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks me in a low, heated voice.
‘You told me I was welcome to come,’ I point out with a calmness I don’t feel. I used to love hearing him talk in his lilting Irish accent. Even angry, he sounds sexy.
‘I was drunk when I wrote that email.’ He stares sullenly at the bottles lined up behind the bar.
‘Well, I’m here now. Are you sure I can’t buy you a drink?’ I raise one eyebrow.
Charlie’s question from last night is ringing around my head.‘Why do you do it, then?’
‘Fine.’ I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief as he changes his mind. ‘Make it two,’ he tells the bartender.
Dillon meets my eyes again for a long, painful moment. It’s a struggle to not look away.
‘Is that your girlfriend?’ I ask gently, when the hardness in his expression finally begins to soften.
‘Just a girl,’ he replies quietly, nodding at the bartender as two vodkas appear in front of us. I hand over a tenner and pick up my glass.
‘Bottoms up,’ I say cheerfully.
He downs half of his drink in one.
‘Urgh.’ I pull a face, and I’ve had only one sip. ‘Got such a shitty hangover today,’ I reveal. ‘I don’t know why I ordered this.’
He places his glass back on the bar and leans against it, facing me.
‘Why are you here?’ he asks directly, folding his arms.
‘Don’t you know?’ I reply. Has he read my blog?
‘You think I will have looked you up?’ He sounds defensive.
I shrug and avert my gaze. ‘I thought you might’ve after getting my email.’
‘Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.’
I grin at him.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You sound like a little boy.’
‘Piss off, Bridget, I don’t need this.’
‘Dillon, chill the fuck out. You’re still so feisty.’ I keep my tone light and eventually his fury morphs into mild humour.
‘You’re still so...’ He screws up his face, thinking. ‘Annoying.’
‘Ha! Yes, Iamstill annoying. So come on, have you read my blog or not? Or do you just want to make this difficult for me?’
