No Strings After One Night

1. Mary

Mary

‘It’s been FIVE YEARS? Mary Ryan, are you freaking kidding me?’

I frowned and glanced around quickly before looking back at my friend Deirdre, whose face was comically – or tragically, depending on how you interpreted it – frozen in shock, mouth hanging open inelegantly.

‘I don’t think they quite heard that in Galway, Dee. Close your mouth – it’s not a good look. And, no, I’m not kidding.’

My infinitely glamorous blonde friend immediately clamped her mouth shut and checked to see that no one had caught her fly–catching moment.

We were in a sleek and trendy wine bar just off Grafton street, Dublin’s buzzy, exclusive pedestrian shopping district, packed to the brim with shops, bars, cafés and restaurants.

On a Thursday evening people were enjoying post late-night shopping or after-work drinks.

I steeled myself for the onslaught, which, as Dee’s bright blue gaze zeroed back onto me, was imminent. Silently I counted down: three, two, one ...

‘What the fricking hell, Maro?’ She hissed this no less audibly. ‘And why have you been lying to me all this time?’

‘I never lied to you.’ I pushed down the slight spike of defensiveness because I knew that I’d allowed myself to fall into a sort-of comfortable rut, and took a sip of my perfectly chilled riesling, ‘I merely chose not to elaborate on the fact that it was my busy bunny doing the heavy lifting and not an actual ... appendage attached to a man.’

Dee shook her head, eyes wide. ‘That’s just ... wrong. Your hymen must have grown over again.’ She shuddered theatrically, no doubt at the thought of undergoing that rite of passage for a second time. I nearly winced myself – my first time had not been good.

‘And what about your eggs?’ My best friend wailed. ‘They won’t know what a sperm is even if it makes its way to the promised land!’

I hated to admit it, but Dee’s words hit a nerve.

Which was ridiculous. I was only twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine, hardly at high risk of diminishing fertility returns.

And, after becoming both mother and father to my younger brother and sister following our parents’ deaths in a tragic crash about ten years ago, I’d had my fair share of parenting before my time.

But ... I couldn’t deny that I’d been feeling hollow since my sister, Caitlin, the youngest, had emigrated to New York some months ago.

And, if I was totally honest, for some years before that when my younger brother by one year, Johnny, had also left home for New York, after yet another blistering row.

One of many, as he’d navigated his grief and desire to rebel against every constraint I’d put on him out of fear he’d go off the rails completely.

Johnny had walked out on us just before his final year of a degree in architecture.

It had only been since Caitlin had moved to New York and tracked him down that he and I had begun tentatively reconnecting.

For years I’d felt the awful guilt that I’d driven him away.

But knowing that he was happy, and pursuing his passions in both love and work, had helped to alleviate that guilt.

Since moving to New York, Caitie had also found love and had embarked on her professional life, and, while I was so delighted for both of them, I was ashamed to admit that something else was rearing its head.

A sense of frustration at all I’d missed out on in my own life, so that I could care for them.

The sacrifices I’d had to make, putting aside my own hopes and dreams.

As if reading my mind, Dee said, ‘Maro, you know I’m only joking.

You, more than anyone I know deserves to enjoy some freedom and fun.

But I know you miss Johnny and Caitlin.’ Absurdly, I felt emotion rise and quickly took a sip of wine to hide it.

Thankfully she moved on. ‘Anyway, more importantly, how are we going to get you back on the horse?’

I snorted into my wine, glad of the distraction. ‘I think it’d have to be a horse after all this time.’

Dee touched her glass off mine. ‘Cheers to that!’ She looked around. ‘Now, I wonder if there’s anyone here ...’

‘Dee,’ I said. ‘Don’t you dare do anything to embarrass me.’

She looked at me, eyes wide, ‘Who? Moi?’

I snorted again, but then Dee put down her glass of wine and started rummaging in her bag, taking out her phone and squinting at it.

She refused to wear glasses in public and couldn’t use contact lenses because she had sensitive eyes.

I felt better after remembering that. She wouldn’t be able to see Pedro Pascal himself unless he stood inches away from her.

‘Oh, crap, crappity crap.’ She looked at me and I knew instantly.

‘It’s the twins?’

She nodded. ‘Paddy has had this bug for days and now Seanie looks like he’s getting it too. I’d better go and help. Dan is saying he’s OK, but?—’

‘He’s sending out the bat signal of distress. It’s fine – go. Believe me, I’ll enjoy this wine all the more knowing I don’t have that kind of responsibility any more.’

‘Cow,’ Dee said affectionately as she hugged me. ‘At least Johnny and Caitlin were well out of nappies and creche lurgies when you had to take over.’ She pulled back. ‘Are you sure? We could share a cab home?’

I shook my head, realising I’d already made the decision to stay. Something a bit reckless was moving through me, at the thought of Johnny and Caitlin getting on with their lives. It hadn’t really hit me until this evening and now I couldn’t shake it.

‘I’ll be fine – it’s a busy city-centre bar.’

‘OK, I’ll keep track of your location, so when the serial killer dumps your body we can find you.

’ I rolled my eyes. ‘We’ll do this again, I promise.

’ And then she looked at me critically, reaching out to flick open a couple of buttons on my silk shirt-dress before I could do anything.

‘That’s better,’ she said, as I spluttered.

‘You need to show off that gorgeous rack of yours. What I wouldn’t give for your breasts – I’m still paying for mine. ’

I refrained from telling her, yet again, that her breasts had been beautiful. But, yes, slightly small. Unlike mine. Double D all the way. Since I was a young teenager, much to my chagrin.

Dee heroically downed the rest of her wine and stood up. She pointed at me. ‘You sit there and look alluring, and make eyes at a man until he comes over and buys you a drink, got it?’

‘Any man?’

‘I think at this point you just need someone with a pulse to get you going again – then we can get fussy.’ She left with a jaunty wave before I could throw something at her.

She was going home to her husband and babies, and, even though that was the last thing I wanted until I’d enjoyed my freedom, I couldn’t deny that I was lonely.

And I was beginning to feel even lonelier sitting in this trendy bar while all around me friends were gathering, or couples had their heads bent together.

I did want to get back on the horse, so to speak, but maybe not tonight.

I’d have to stop making excuses eventually – I no longer had the buffer of my younger sister between me and coming to terms with the fact that my development had been arrested at the age of eighteen when I’d had to assume the kind of responsibility that most people don’t deal with until they have kids of their own.

It wasn’t as if I was a virgin. I’d had sex with my first boyfriend at sixteen. After all, I had developed early and my breasts had proved very useful in attracting male attention.

But, after our parents had died, that part of my life had ceased to exist, certainly for the first couple of years in that fog of grief and shock.

Once Johnny and Caitie had been old enough, well-meaning friends like Dee had dragged me out.

I’d even had some unsatisfactory one-night stands.

The urge to cram as much as possible into those rare nights had been paramount.

But I’d never really felt able to embark on a relationship, or let go and enjoy myself, too aware of my responsibilities to both Johnny and Caitlin, and then just Caitie, until she’d graduated from university.

Safe to say that I hadn’t really ever had the kind of heart-pounding, leg-trembling, knicker-wetting sexual experience that I’d read about in my many romance novels. I was now addicted to a series about blue aliens with absolutely massive …

‘Ahem.’

I looked up from where I’d been staring into my almost empty wine glass. A waiter all dressed in black was standing there with a glass of wine on a tray. He said, ‘This is from the gentleman at the bar.’

I looked around the waiter to his right, but the only man I could see was a much older man. My insides sank. I’m not saying he wasn’t attractive, but he would be about my father’s age if Dad were still alive.

‘No, behind me the other side,’ said the waiter in a low voice, moving his head in that direction.

Oh. I looked around his left side and my heart stopped.

Literally stopped. The man was sitting on a stool looking right at me.

Actually he was half standing, half sitting, because he was so tall.

He wasn’t too old. He looked ... perfect.

Almost too perfect. How had I not noticed him before now?

He was gorgeous. Broad. Muscled, visible under his suit even from here.

A suit that looked bespoke because it hugged those muscles so lovingly.

One leg was bent, his foot hitched on the rung of the stool, and I swear his thigh looked like a tree trunk from here.

I glanced back up. He had a head of thick, dark-blonde hair. Messy. And a rough buzz of facial hair. Almost a beard. I felt a little weak. I’d always loved bearded men. He was very ... bearish.

I dragged my gaze away and squinted at the waiter. ‘Is that him?’

The waiter nodded, eyes wide. ‘He told me that if you accept the glass of wine, he’ll take that as a signal he can join you. If not, he’ll leave you alone. No pressure.’

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Had Dee somehow seen this man on the street and paid him to do this? I wouldn’t put it past her. A part of me was tempted to just shake my head, say no thanks and head home, but then I thought of our family home in the suburbs. Empty. Cold. Empty. Lonely.

That sense of having missed out was back. Like a burr under my skin. Reminding me that I finally had all the freedom I wanted. Before I could overthink it, I nodded abruptly and said, ‘OK, yes, I’ll take the wine.’

The waiter put the glass down and said sotto voce, ‘I don’t blame you – he’s a total ride,’ then turned and walked away.