Chapter 20
Chris
“Are we lost?” Vic elbows me.
“Me? No, I was just…”
What was I doing? Oh, right – I was thinking about last night.
“You’re being weird, are you ill?”
“I’m fine.”
“Mmm…”
“What’s wrong with you? Get to work, there are tables that need clearing.”
“Okay, okay, I’m going. Wow, someone’s touchy today.”
Vic walks off and I immediately feel guilty for treating her like that. I don’t usually give orders like that to any of my colleagues, let alone to her.
I make myself another coffee as the queue at the counter gets longer and longer; but today, I really can’t be bothered to work or chat.
I’m in a terrible mood. I feel stupid, messed around.
I really feel like shit. I shouldn’t feel like that, I should be used to this – I should know what men are like by now, understand when they’re being dickheads.
And I know full well that he is one. But all it took were his hands, his warm breath against my neck, the illusion that he wanted to kiss me and draw me in, to turn my world completely upside-down.
Ryan O’Connor is a Greek God, sculpted from pure marble. All tough, smart-arse attitude. He has a horrible personality – always bitter and grumpy – but he has abs to die for, and enormous hands that make you run away with your fantasies, right into your own destruction.
He turned up here, he helped me; then he came close, and I believed that… no. I always end up in the same trap. I’ll never learn.
I should know by now that men like him are never good news. They always lead to sleepless nights, too many glasses of wine, and a nightstand covered in snotty tissues. I should learn that I never attract the right type of guy – never seriously, at least – and I’m tired of hoping for a miracle.
I dejectedly sip at my coffee and go back to work – at least it’ll keep me busy.
“Hey, Chris!”
I look up.
“Oh… Riley. Hi!”
“We just popped in for some breakfast,” she says, pointing to a table where the O’Connors are sitting. “It’s my birthday today, and they insisted on spending the morning with me, seeing as they’re not coming along to the party tonight.”
“No way! Really?” I come out from behind the counter and hug her. “Happy Birthday, Riley – you look great!”
“I’m getting pretty big.”
“Beautifully big,” I smile at her. “Go sit yourself down, I’ll be right over.”
Riley heads back to their table and sits between the O’Connors, who fuss around her: just as they should. Apart from it being her birthday, she’s Ian’s girlfriend and she’s about to have his baby.
I sigh sadly, grabbing my notepad to take their order.
“Good morning, guys!” I greet them warmly. “I just found out it’s someone’s birthday today.”
Mrs. O’Connor hugs her tightly, smiling.
“So, what can I get for you?”
“Three full Irish breakfasts, two cappuccinos and an americano, please.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I go to place the check on the counter, then decide to turn back and sit with them for a few minutes.
“Are you going anywhere nice tonight to celebrate?”
“Ian and Jamie – my brother – have decided that we have to celebrate big-time this year. So they’re taking me to the Club.”
“The Club?” I ask, curious.
“Yeah, the team’s clubhouse. I know it doesn’t sound like the best place, but they insisted and they’ve organised a private event there.”
“You’ll be the queen of the party.”
I don’t really feel comfortable being the centre of attention, but I guess I can put up with it just this once.”
“I’m sure you’ll have fun.”
“You should come along, too!”
“M-me?”
“Sure, I’d love you to be there.”
“But I don’t think I should…”
“Why not?” Karen interjects.
“I don’t really have many friends, apart from my colleagues, so it would be really nice to have you with us,” Riley presses.
“No, it’s not…”
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”
“It’s just – I won’t know anyone…”
“You know me, the birthday girl. And you know Ian and his brothers, right?”
His brothers. Yep.
“You never know, you might meet someone…” she looks at me, eyes twinkling. “Unless you’re already seeing someone?”
Seeing someone, me? She must be kidding.
“Come on, I’ll give you the address. It’s just outside town, but there’s no traffic in the evening so it won’t take you long to get there.”
“I’m not promising anything…” I say, because I have absolutely no intention of going – but it seems harsh to say this to her.
I lend her a pen and my pad, and she writes the address down on it, handing it back to me.
“I’m counting on you,” she says hopefully, and I can already feel myself giving in.
It’s not every day that I’m invited somewhere, and even though he’ll be there, I don’t want to hold myself back.
I’m not the sort of person who hides away – I have no reason to.
Besides, I’m not scared of seeing him or being close to him.
I have to show him that he has no effect on me – none at all – and that last night wasn’t a big deal, even though I can already feel my stomach churning and my heart beating a little too fast.