Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CORMAC
This has been a bizarre twenty-four hours, right up there with the wedding that started it all.
I was about to text Pansy last night when I decided it felt super creepy to do it alone, in an empty house.
So I popped over to Nathaniel’s and invited him over for a drink.
I waited until we were settled and Nathaniel was halfway through one of his very long stories before I finally hit send on the message.
Admittedly, I hadn’t thought the situation through. It had felt perhaps creepier to send off an anonymous text on a burner while having a friend over for a casual drink, like I was a secret psychopath living a double life.
So yeah, I was a little agitated and totally distracted.
I doubt I can recall a single word of the story Nathaniel told me.
But if he noticed my distress, he didn’t say a word about it.
He hadn’t even paused in his storytelling to make sure I was listening.
He seemed happy enough just to be outside his house.
But before leaving, he gave me a serious look, eyebrows lowered, and said, “You do right by Nora.”
“She’s my fake girlfriend,” I said, feeling an uncomfortable press of emotion in my chest.
“Then you’d better do something about that, don’t you think? You don’t want to end up like me, alone and hanging out with twenty-year-olds.”
“I’m thirty, Nathaniel.”
“Then I’d better look for some younger friends.” He winked at me and headed out of the house, singing an Irish drinking song with surprising panache.
I checked my phone after shutting the door behind him and found a response from Pansy.
Is this Nora?
Oh, that wasn’t good, but it occurred to me that I could very honestly say I was not Nora.
No.
What do you want?
Fuck. What was I supposed to want?
On a whim, I responded:
It’s time to leave José alone. You know you shouldn’t marry him.
It only occurred to me after I sent the message that it certainly sounded like something Nora might say. Then again, there were plenty of other people who might agree with the sentiment. Bradley, for example. Or the first guy. Or Micah, the mysterious third ex in the running.
She didn’t respond to that message, and I went to bed and got approximately one hour of sleep before waking up.
I tried to get back to sleep, but I was too busy feeling like a creep and worrying this situation would blow up in our faces. Nora’s, in particular.
Pansy certainly seemed unpredictable.
For all I knew, she’d burn down the brewery.
Oh shit, was she going to burn down The Ginger Station?
I texted Nora, asking if she had a fire extinguisher, but she didn’t respond, likely because it was four in the morning.
I got up late—groggy, worried, and off-kilter—and still felt off-balance by the time I met up with Mick and Liam outside the bakery so we could get in place in time to observe Ann’s date.
“You look like shit,” Liam said, helpfully. “Nothing a gallon of coffee can’t pretend to cure.”
Mick snickered, then nodded to me. “It might help you before the show.”
I swore internally. I hadn’t forgotten we had a show, necessarily, but I had tried not to think about it too much. Just like I’d tried to ignore the Pansy issue and the texts my father kept sending me.
“Yeah, let’s get him that coffee,” Liam said to Mick, as if I were a child in their care.
Ten minutes later, after Dottie’s boyfriend gave us our drinks with a big, conspiratorial wink that might as well have put a target on our backs, we got situated at a table in the back corner of the room.
Mick chose the spot, saying it would give us the best vantage point no matter where Ann and her date chose to sit.
“You’re good at this,” I commented.
“What?” Liam asked, laughing. “Stalking people? Yeah, he gets a gold star.”
Mick told him to fuck off, then turned toward Liam. “So, who’s this Ann? Is she a looker?”
Liam grinned. “What do you think, Cormac?”
In my dream version of the world, people never ask for my opinion, particularly not in very public spaces. And definitely not about my friends’ appearances.
“She’s got a nice face,” I deflected.
Mick tilted his head. “Yeah? She got a nice rack?”
“I’d prefer not to think about her that way.”
He whistled and leaned back in his chair. “If I didn’t know for sure you got a thing for your stepsister, I’d suspect you have feelings for this Ann lady.”
“Will you keep your voice down?” I hissed, not bothering to deny what was obviously true. Yes, I have it bad for my stepsister, and I do have congenial feelings for Ann, although I am definitely not interested in dating her.
Liam and Mick slipped into a meaningless conversation, and the door cracked open just as the hour turned over.
It was Ann, accompanied by a bearded man who held the door open for her and her enormous bouquet.
I did a double take before glancing at Liam.
“It’s actually him,” I whispered.
Liam cast a glance over his shoulder to get a look at Ann’s date and then swiveled back in his seat to face us, laughing. “Well, I’ll be…”
“What’s going on?” Mick asked. “Is this about those old people?” A half second later, he clued in and reached across the table to shove Liam. “You are such a shithead.”
“Oh, get over it, Mick,” I said. “She does have a nice face. She’s a nice lady.” I was silent for a second, watching them. “A nice lady who’s apparently been in a months’ long cyber relationship with a movie star.”
A few people had gathered by the front window and were peering in, pointing at George Cronin. He was holding Ann’s hand as he led her to the front counter, where Bear Reynolds was waiting.
As I watched, Bear quickly pulled out his phone and sent off a message.
“He just told Dottie,” I guessed. A group of middle-aged women entered the shop, laughing, sneaking glances at Ann and George as they joined the line forming behind them.
“God, why did I agree to come?” Mick groaned, stretching out in his seat. “I closed the gym early to be here.”
“You close the gym early ninety percent of the time,” Liam argued. “It’s why you’re nearly broke. Right now, you’re peeping on a movie star in a bakery. Be grateful.”
I didn’t comment, because I was already texting Nora. She’d want to know. She’d want to be here, in all probability.
I wanted her here.
Ann and her movie star ordered at the counter and then strolled toward the back of the establishment. She threw me a wink before sliding into a seat at a nearby table, facing us.
And that brings us to the present moment. About thirty minutes have passed since they first sat down. George Cronin has been monologuing the whole time. It’s gone on for so long now, I wonder why he hasn’t needed to stop for water.
The tables around Ann and George have filled in with coffee drinkers who seem far more focused on what’s happening with the older couple than on their own business, but as for the rest of us…
Mick literally fell asleep, and Liam must have decided this was a boring mission after all, because he’s scrolling on his phone. Meanwhile, Ann, who was watching George with interest at the beginning of their date, is paying an awful lot of attention to her coffee cup.
And then there’s me.
I’m waiting for her. I know she’s coming.
Nora isn’t the sort of person who misses out on excitement, even if George’s presence is turning out to be more exciting than George himself.
Finally, I see her and her friends peeking in through the corner of the front window. Nora looks absolutely radiant as the warm summer wind plays with her dark hair.
I catch her eye and smile, feeling something lighten inside of me.
I pull out my phone and text her—
I’m glad you didn’t die in a fiery blaze. But, seriously, make sure you have a fire extinguisher.
I watch through the window as she pulls out her phone, laughing when she sees the screen.
Seconds later, my phone buzzes:
Why are you suddenly so obsessed with fire extinguishers?
Also: WHAT’S HAPPENING IN THERE? ARE THEY MADLY IN LOVE YET? DO WE GET A REALITY TV SPECIAL? Because that might be the win I need. It would be almost as good as finding out who the Shirtless Chef is.
I glance at Ann’s table just as she yawns.
I write back:
It does not appear to be a love match. She’s been yawning a lot, and he keeps talking about himself. It’s a bit like one of those memoirs where the author reads the audiobook. At least we won’t have to threaten anyone.
She hunches over the phone again as Hannah nudges her shoulder, then writes:
Honestly, I was kind of looking forward to seeing that side of you.
I nearly groan out loud, then gather myself enough to respond:
I’ll show you. I can give you a stern talking-to about fire safety later. Maybe I’ll even wag my finger and tell you to respond to your messages.
She sends back:
Yes, daddy.
“Oh Christ,” I mutter.
“Right?” Mick replies in an undertone. “Nobody cares, man. I’ve been accused of being a shitty date, but this guy is next-level, and he’s interrupting my nap.”
Liam’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. I reach across the table and nudge his hand. “Your sister and your fiancée are staring through the front window.”
He laughs out loud this time. “Of course they fucking are. And I’ll bet Sophie and your girl are there too.”
“She’s not—” I start, then shrug. “Yeah, of course.”
“The real question is, where’s Dottie?”
He raises a good point, but just then Ann’s mobile phone rings. It nearly echoes through the coffee shop, because almost everyone inside has stopped talking aside from George, who’s still going on about the highlights of his career.
“I’ve got to get that, baby,” Ann says, patting his hand. “I always answer my friend Dot’s calls. We have an agreement.”
He trails off as she answers her phone.
We can’t hear the other end, obviously, but Ann is speaking loudly, as if she wants us to listen. “You don’t say.” She pauses. “So it’s an emergency?”
Liam starts silently laughing again.