Chapter Twenty-Five
“Point your right foot out. That’s…no, the right one.
The…there you go. And hold hands now, don’t be shy.
” Jenny stands on a little box at the edge of the dance floor, a huge grin on her face as she gets everyone into position.
“Just like we went over before. Row one make an arch, and row two go under. And one, two, three!”
Everyone bursts into laughter as the band starts playing, most people immediately going the wrong way and not caring a bit.
The céilí was a good move. Even if most of those taking part don’t know what to do. But they don’t seem too worried about getting it right. In fact, they’re happier when they get it wrong, falling over themselves with laughter, sometimes straight into each other’s arms.
I should be thrilled with the sight. But I’m finding it hard to concentrate.
Not when I just want to watch Adam and Gemma all night.
I have a perfect view of them from my perch by the outside bar.
They haven’t moved from their little spot by the picnic benches.
Talking. That’s all they’ve been doing. Talking all night.
No kissing, no dancing, no selfies by the wall.
Just talking like they’ve only just met.
It’s the first time I’ve ever really seen them get along and I mean that.
They’ve known each other for more or less their whole lives and, while I have no doubt deep down they love each other, I had assumed that love was platonic like it was for the rest of us.
I mean, half the time, they can barely go five minutes without fighting.
It’s only now that I’m starting to think that maybe they were fighting something else.
“You know you’re just staring at them, right?”
I jump as Callum pops up behind the bar, appearing as if out of nowhere.
“Where have you been?” I ask, as he starts clearing away empty glasses.
“Kitchen. Why the long face?”
“I’m busy,” I say. “This is my busy face.”
“Okay,” he says calmly, barely even paying me attention.
“You have bar experience?”
“None at all.”
I tap my fingers against the bar, annoyed that he won’t look at me. “Everyone’s switching their matches.”
“So?”
“ So I matched them.”
“Are people complaining?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the big deal?”
“You don’t get it,” I mutter. I sound as childish as I feel right now, and I don’t know why. Everything was going fine the other day, but between the interview and Gemma and that woman’s hand on his arm…
“Look around, Katie,” Callum says. “Everyone’s having a good time.”
He’s right. In fact, everyone’s having a great time.
Nothing but smiles and laughter and even a few captivated looks.
Especially from Nush, who’s watching Monica talk with rapt attention like she wants to squish her up and put her in her sequined purse.
I turn my back on them, too stubborn to let this go, only to see Callum attempting to open some champagne.
“You’re doing that wrong,” I tell him. “Twist the bottle, not the cork. And you need to hold it at an angle.”
He sighs. “Katie—”
“Whatever.” I slap a hand on the bar and push myself off the stool. “Be mad at me. I don’t care. I know I messed up and I’m sorry, but at least I’m taking this seriously.”
Callum’s barely listening to me as he finally pops the cork, and I catch his pleasant surprise for a second before turning away.
“Where are you going?”
“To dance,” I call back, as another guest immediately takes my place.
Despite my intention, my steps slow as I head down to the makeshift dance floor, lingering awkwardly by the edge until suddenly my hand is snatched up and I’m tugged forward.
But it’s not Callum who’s leading me onto the floor, it’s Harry.
“Um, hi?”
“Hello,” he answers cheerfully, spinning around to face me. “You seem tense.”
“I’m working.”
“You don’t look like you’re working,” he says, leading us through the crowd. “You’re kind of just walking around glaring at everyone. You used to be fun, you know that? Remember when you drank too much at my wedding and fell asleep talking to my Great-Aunt Sophie?”
“That was you.”
“Was it?” His hand goes to my waist, his other raising my hand into the air. “I don’t remember.” A push and I go reluctantly spinning.
“What are you doing, Harry?”
“Making your boyfriend jealous.”
“I don’t want to make him jealous.”
Harry gives me a disbelieving look. “Have you ever made anyone jealous before?” he asks. “It’s really fun. Plus, you’ve been going around with a pout all evening, and it’s turning off the guests.”
“I don’t pout.”
“You’re pouting right now,” he says. “Trust me, Katie. I know what I’m doing.”
“He’s not even looking.”
Harry grins. “He’s definitely looking.”
“But he’s— hey.” I scowl as Harry tugs me close, gripping my waist as we spin around the floor.
“Hands, much?”
“Humor me, would you? Oh, look. That didn’t take long.”
Harry comes to a halt, spinning me around as I come face to face with Callum.
“Mind if I cut in?” he says, his eyes on Harry, whose response is to push me so hard that I stumble straight into Callum’s arms. I look over my shoulder to glare at him, but he only smiles in response and goes off to join Richie.
Callum snatches my hand before I can curse him out and then we’re moving again.
“What are you doing?”
“Dancing,” he says, moving me farther into the middle of the floor.
“You said you’re a terrible dancer,” I remind him.
“I’ve decided that I go where you go.” He gives me a gentle nudge, encouraging me to spin out, and as I do, his eyes drop to my dress, taking me in. “You look beautiful tonight.” And he says the words so simply, so matter of factly, that I blush.
I turn back into his arms, and he pulls me closer, much closer than Harry and I stood.
I notice the difference immediately. The way my skin heats wherever his hands are, the way my body automatically wants to move with his. The way the rest of the room seems to fade into the background. Until it’s just him and me. Until I can’t look away.
“I’m sorry about the interview.” I must have said it a million times already, but something in my voice now makes him pause. “I just panicked,” I continue. “I want this to work, and I’m scared that it won’t, and I panicked. I’m sorry.”
I can feel him looking at me, but I can’t meet his eye, taking the coward’s way out, the better way out, and watch the other couples move around. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the song, but when it comes to an end, he squeezes my hip before another can start. “You want to sit down?”
I nod, and he leads me into the pub, but instead of heading to the lounge, brings me straight to Adam’s office where he sits in his chair and, before I can stop him, pulls me into his lap.
“What?” he asks, when I give him a look.
“I meant sit in the main room.”
“Did you?” he asks innocently.
“And in my own chair.”
“Well, that’s nowhere near as fun.” He rubs a slow circle into my back while the other hand toys with my dress.
I don’t really mind, though. His lap is oddly comfortable.
And the way my feet dangle off the ground comes as a huge relief.
I relax into him even as his fingers trail up my leg, slipping through the folds of my skirt to caress the bare skin he finds there. “I really like your dress.”
Goosebumps follow the trail of his touch, but I keep my expression stern.
“Callum,” I warn, though I don’t move away.
“You need a distraction.”
“What?”
“You’re not enjoying yourself,” he says. “The one thing everyone wanted you to do tonight, and you can’t do it. So you need a distraction.”
“What kind of distraction?” I ask, even though I can guess where his mind’s gone as he gently grips my thigh. A smile pulls unwillingly at my lips and I’m just about to say to hell with it and stay back here with him when the door opens.
I scramble off his lap so fast, I almost fall to the floor, and turn to see Harry standing in the doorway. He doesn’t seem fazed to catch us like this, and I’m stopped from feeling my usual embarrassment, when I see his worried look.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” he says. “I thought I’d better come find you and see what you think.”
Callum and I share a look before hurrying back into the pub.
I have no idea what he’s talking about at first, the lounge is busy with people dancing and talking and…
Hmmm.
Callum checks the time on my phone as I seek out the clock on the wall for the same reason. It’s still early, not even ten p.m., and yet the dancing on the floor, the volume of conversation…
“They’re just a little drunk,” I say.
“More than a little,” Harry mutters, his eyes on two people making out nearby.
I shake my head, looking toward the bar. “The guys know to keep an eye on people. It’s Adam, he wouldn’t serve anyone who he thought was too far gone.”
“Then maybe it’s not that,” Callum says, frowning as he looks around the room. He takes off suddenly and I follow, slipping through the packed crowd as he makes his way to the buffet table, straight to Nush’s punch.
One bowl is already empty, and the other is quickly on its way to being so as Callum politely cuts through the people gathered around it and pours himself a cup.
He grimaces as he sniffs it but takes a sip anyway. “Okay, yeah. Try that.”
“Why? What’s wrong with— oh my God.” I start coughing on the first sip. I’ve never been a big drinker, but I don’t consider myself a lightweight either. But that’s…I mean, that is…
“I’m going to kill her,” I say, setting it down. I head to the kitchens and then to the storeroom until I eventually find Nush standing outside the ladies’ bathroom, scrolling through her phone.
“Monica’s fixing her makeup,” she tells me, when she sees me. “And then we’re going back to dancing. She has two cats, Katie. Two.”
“Great,” I say. “What did you put in the punch?”
“Huh?”
“The punch, Nush. You said you were going to make it earlier.”
“Oh yeah. Adam gave me your recipe, but I found a better one online. I added some pineapple juice to…it’s too sweet, isn’t it?
” She groans dramatically before I can respond.
“I knew it would be too sweet. Everyone always tells me I have a sweet tooth, but I couldn’t taste it because of the alcohol and then—”
“You put alcohol in it?” I interrupt.
“Of course.”
“What do you mean, of course?”
“Because punch has alcohol in it,” she says like it’s obvious. “I used vodka.”
“How much vodka?”
“I dunno. A bottle?”
Callum shifts beside me as I stare at her. “You put a bottle of vodka in that bowl of punch?”
She hesitates, eyes flickering between the two of us. “Is that not enough?”
Oh my God.
“Tell them to take the punch away,” I say, whirling to Callum. “And to stop serving at the bar. Only non-alcoholic drinks for the rest of the night.”
“On it,” he says, as Nush’s eyes widen.
“Is that not good?” she asks, trailing me as I follow him back to the main room.
It all seems much more obvious now I know what the problem is, the noise that bit louder than it should be, the movements a little looser.
They are more than a little drunk. Half the room is completely smashed.
There are even a few protests when Callum wheels the serving bowl away, but he thankfully ignores them, disappearing into the kitchens.
I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded. “We didn’t mark it as non-alcoholic or anything, did we?”
“I don’t think anyone could take a sip of that stuff and think there wasn’t any alcohol in it,” Harry says diplomatically.
“It was free, and a lot of people were nervous. They probably used it to settle their stomachs. Which,” he adds.
“Is pretty ironic when you consider how unsettled they’ll be in the—”
“Yes, okay. Thank you.”
“Relax,” Harry says, slapping me on the shoulder. “If this is the bad thing that happens, then you can do a lot worse than people losing some of their inhibitions.” He pauses as a couple go giggling past, tripping over in their heels. “But ibuprofen might be handy,” he adds, and I sigh.