“Here we are,” Padraig says to me, putting it in park. “I’d say I had a really good time last night but that sounds too trivial for what it was. I think … I was really lucky ye came over to talk to me. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize how bloody wonderful ye are right off the bat.”
I swallow, my heart doing somersaults and landing hard each time. “I had a good time too. I’m glad you came to your senses.”
He lets out a laugh and smiles so bright that it actually pains me.
This is wrong, my inner voice says. Don’t go. Stay! Tell him yes. Yes, yes, yes to his crazy idea!
But the words don’t come. The fear holds them back.
That same fear I came to Ireland to erase.
Padraig stares at me for a second, his dark, arched brows knitted together as if conflicted. Then he grabs my face hard, his fingers strong and pressing into my cheeks, and lays a deep and searing kiss on me that makes my toes curl in my boots.
Jesus.
His lips are fire and they stir up a million wants and feelings inside me, a straight shot to the heart, but before I can kiss him back with the same intensity, he pulls away. “Take care, darlin’,” he says to me, voice raspy. “Say hello to your sisters for me.”
I’m breathless. I’m broken.
“I will,” I tell him.
Somehow I manage to get out of the car. I push everything that wants to overwhelm me aside, and as I give him a wave and he drives off, I start telling myself the truth.
It was a one-night stand.
He’s a stranger.
He gave you the best sex of your life, what more do you want?
You only knew him for less than twenty-four hours.
Let it be.
Get over it.
I tell myself this over and over as I walk into the hotel, into the cramped and musty elevator, and up to our floor.
I’m still telling myself this when I swipe my keycard and step into the room, not at all surprised to see my sisters sitting on my pullout couch and staring at me with greedy eyes. I’d been texting them when I was in the car so they knew I was coming back.
“Oh, Rie-Rie,” Angie cries out while Sandra yells, “Sit your ass down and tell us everything!”
I sigh and let the door close behind me before leaning against it and sliding all the way to the floor. I can’t even make it over to them.
But they both get up and come over to me, grabbing me by the arms and hauling me to my feet. It’s then that I realize they both stink like booze, and with their ashen tone and red-rimmed eyes, I think they’re far more hung over than I am. There are empty bottles of Club orange soda and purple Powerade scattered about the coffee table.
“You look so sad,” Angie says as they sit me down on the couch. “What happened?”
“She doesn’t look sad, she looks spent,” Sandra chides her from the other side of me. “Come on, give us the dirt. Tell us about his cock. Was it big? It looks big.”
“Sandra, please,” Angie says. “It’s Valerie. She doesn’t kiss and tell.”
I sigh and close my eyes, falling back into the couch. Actually, with my sisters here, this isn’t so bad. It was that section between leaving Padraig and this room that was the worst. So, the elevator. Like all my heartbreak might just stay in there.
But then as Sandra continues to bombard me with questions and as Angie tries to soothe me, I’m pulled back into his world again, and deep regret and sadness washes over me.
“Shit, you really have it bad,” Sandra says after a moment, after I try to describe how he made me feel.
“Yeah,” Angie says softly, holding my hand. “I though a one-night stand would get Cole out of your system. I didn’t think you’d fall for the guy.”
“I didn’t fall for him,” I tell her, reaching forward and grabbing a bottle of Powerade. “I didn’t even know him.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t be sad that you don’t get to see him again,” Sandra says. “He didn’t want to see you tonight?”
An even bigger sigh rumbles through me now. “He did. Well, it was more than that. He wanted me to come with him to his hometown.”
“What?” Angie screeches. “His hometown? Isn’t it Dublin?”
“He lives here, yeah, but he meant like the place he grew up in. A town called Shambles. Where his father lives.”
“He wanted you to meet his dad!” Sandra practically yells. “Holy shit.”
I nod, knowing what’s coming next. I can’t help but give them a shy smile. “He wanted to bring me home to meet his father and pretend to be his fiancé.”
Complete silence.
I glance at Sandra’s dumbfounded face, then over at Angie’s.
“Huh?” Angie finally asks.
“You heard me.”
“He wanted you to pretend to be his fiancé? Why?” Sandra asks. Then she excitedly slaps my knee. “Oh. Oh! Is this one of those inheritance things, where like you have to be married in order to qualify for an inheritance? Are you going to get rich? This is like a Hallmark movie!”
It sounds far-fetched (I mean, this all does) but it makes me pause. If his father is dying, could that really be the reason? “I don’t think so,” I say slowly. “I mean, that would mean you would actually have to get married right, not just pretend you will?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “This is crazy.”
“It is crazy. He knows it’s crazy too. Obviously I said no.”
“Obviously. So what was his reasoning?” Angie asks curiously. “You don’t just spring that insane plot on someone without a good explanation.”
I almost feel like it’s too personal to tell. “His father is dying. He has prostate cancer. Padraig is going back to be with him.” Both of my sisters’ faces fall in unison. “He said his father always wanted him to settle down and be a family man. I guess he’s a perpetual bachelor. He said he wanted to pretend that he’d finally found love.”
“So that his father could die knowing he’s okay,” Sandra says tearfully. She wipes her eyes. “Oh my god, that’s so sad.”
“That’s precious,” Angie says. “And you said no to that?”
I jerk back in surprise and give her a look. “You think I should have said yes?”
“Well, not initially, but I have to admit, that’s a really sweet reason.”
“You should have said yes. What happened to your resolution?” Sandra adds.
“Oh my god,” I exclaim, getting to my feet and turning around to look down at them. “I can’t believe you two!”
“What about us?” Sandra says defensively. “We’re just trying to help you do the things you said you set out to do.”
“I turned him down because of you guys!”
“Us?” Angie says. “Why?”
“Because! This!” I gesture wildly to the hotel room. “Because this is our Stephens Sisters trip. What kind of asshole would I be if I decided to ditch you guys to go follow my one-night stand to his hometown, let alone the whole pretending part? A major asshole.”
“Pfft,” Sandra says. “I’d ditch you both for a hot piece of Irish ass any day.”
“She’s right, you know,” Angie says. “I saw her looking around last night for any excuse to not come home.”
“I can’t believe you,” I say again, my hands pressed into my temples. “You really wouldn’t have cared?”
“Valerie, look,” Angie says. “We’re just happy we got to see you on this trip at all. You weren’t even supposed to come. We’ve had fun, more fun than we’ve had together in a long time, and if you didn’t go to Shambles or whatever with this guy, we’d have even more fun. But the whole reason for this trip isn’t just for us to bond. It’s for you to bond with yourself. To figure out what you want from life.”
“To say yes when you’d normally say no,” Sandra adds. “It’s January first and you’ve already failed bigtime.”
I close my eyes and try to calm my galloping heart.
So I wouldn’t have been a
horrible sister if I’d said yes.
So I could have followed my heart and gone off with him.
So I could have thrown all caution to the wind once again to see where I’d end up.
“I have to think,” I tell them, pacing around the couch. “This is a big deal.”
“It is,” Angie says. “But I mean, you could at least talk to him more about it. Find out for how long. If you want to stay longer than a few days, you need to know that.”
“I don’t know. My ticket was cheap, I won’t be able to change flights or get refunded.”
Sandra points a bottle of soda at me. “So if you stay longer, which I think you should because what the fuck is back in New York for you anyway, I would make him pay for your flight back. After all, you’re doing him a favor. What are you getting out of it?”
“Hot sex?” I offer.
“Don’t you think that might complicate things for you though?” Angie says carefully. I glance at her. She knows me. Once I sleep with a guy I tend to fall hard and fast, kind of like I’m doing now. Maybe the continuation of hot sex is a bad thing.
“Don’t turn her off the sex, okay?” Sandra says to Angie. She looks back at me with raised brows. “But I’m serious. What are you getting out of it?”
I should have a lot of answers for that. A chance to be with a hot rugby star. A chance to see the hidden side of Ireland. Maybe a chance I can write a travel article about it for freelance. But I shrug and the truth comes out. “I get to avoid life for a little while and pretend to be someone else, to live a life that’s not mine.”
“Kind of like being an actress,” Sandra muses. “For no pay,” she adds.
“I have enough money saved,” I tell them. “I’ll be fine for the time being.”
“Then I really think you should do it. Tell him yes,” Angie says. “If you trust him, if you like him that much, if you think you can handle it, tell him yes.”
Yes, yes, yes.
The words start to pulse within me, multiplying and growing until I know it’s the right thing to do. My whole body is fueled by it.
Tell him yes.
But I have to shake my head, my heart sinking. “I don’t even have his phone number. We didn’t exchange them.”
“Yellow pages?” Angie suggests. “Though I guess the average person doesn’t list themselves anymore, let alone a celebrity.”
“You know where he lives though,” Sandra says. “You just came from there and you have a good sense of direction.”
“Kind of,” I say. “I know the neighborhood is called Ranelagh and I’d know the street if I saw it. But, I mean, we might be driving around for hours looking for it.”
“Well, I don’t know about you both,” Sandra says, getting to her feet. “But I’m hung over as fuck and we’re too bombed to do anything remotely fun today. So I think being in a taxi for hours while we hunt down your sexy future fiancé isn’t such a bad idea. Oooh! Does Ireland have McDonalds? Oooh, let’s get McDonalds!”
“Mom would literally cringe if she heard you say that,” Angie tells her.
“Fuck Mom!” Sandra says, giving the middle finger to no one. “Yes to burgers! Yes to Val saying yes. Yes to everything! Let’s fucking go!”
9
Padraig
After I dropped Valerie off at her hotel, I made sure I spent enough time thoroughly berating myself for suggesting anything to her.
I don’t know what the bloody fuck I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. The truth was, I’d woken up at five a.m. and couldn’t sleep. She was snoring her head off in a deep sleep and I didn’t want to wake her so I went downstairs to the living room, made a pot of coffee, and let my thoughts run loose in erratic patterns. I never should have tried to make sense of any of it.
The waning alcohol in my system and lack of sleep, coupled with the hot sex with a beautiful stranger, plus the news from my neurologist and news about my father created a massive black whirlpool inside me that wanted to consume me whole. There were no right answers. There is no right future. There is just too much to fucking handle right now and for some bloody reason I thought that Valerie would be the solution to at least some of it.
I thought that if I brought her to Shambles, my father could see that I was going to be okay. But that’s just the surface reason, the shallow reason. I’m not worried about my father’s peace of mind in that respect because I don’t think he really cares much about what happens to me. I don’t think he actually spends his nights worrying about me and wishing that I’d end up in a kind and loving relationship, get married, be a good father, continue the family name and legacy. I don’t think that’s the case at all, no matter how many times he or my nan try to spin it that way or bring up my mother’s wishes.
The bigger reason, the pettier reason, for bringing Valerie to Shambles and putting on a charade of happiness, is that I don’t want him to think that I failed in life. He may not worry about me, but he does judge me. He thinks I should have done more with my life, even though I’ve done more than he ever has.
Now, with everything hanging in the balance, with my future so uncertain, it struck me as the only thing that made any sense. Bring her to Shambles. Pretend that I’ve been hiding our relationship from the public and family until I was certain. Tell him we’re engaged to be married but with no rush to plan the wedding. Let him see that I’m worth something to someone. And, if it does give him peace of mind after all, let him know that I’m going to be okay after he’s gone.
The idea was ridiculous and I knew it was a mistake the moment it came out of my mouth. I’ve had countless one-night stands and hook-ups and I wouldn’t have had that thought with any of them.
But the redhead is different. I know I don’t know her in the conventional way, but I know all the parts that count. I know that when she looks at me she doesn’t see some unstoppable rugby star. She sees something else, and even though I don’t know what that is, I know she likes it.
And I see a woman who has been ravaged and spit out by life. Dealing with a disability at such a young age couldn’t have been easy, and every perceived weakness she has, I just see someone who has had to turn inwards when life got too hard. I see someone who seems to be running to life for once, instead of away from it.
I’m not sure what that says about me. Perhaps I could learn a thing or two.
But you can’t, you eejit, I tell myself as I pull a bottle of beer from my fridge to help with the hangover. She’s gone. You scared her off. She couldn’t run out of this place fast enough.
It’s just as well. She’s just passing through. She’s got her own problems to deal with. Selfish and foolish of me to think I could rope her into mine.
The thoughts rattle around in my head as I take my first sip of beer and then I’m pondering if I can just keep drinking all day long so I don’t have to face anything, when there’s a knock at my door.
It’s not unusual to have neighbors drop by. I don’t really know any of them personally, but a lot of families ask for favors, like could I give some words of rugby encouragement to their son or would I say hello to someone’s die-hard Leinster fan grandpa. I put the beer away and sigh, gathering whatever strength I have to put on my game face that I wear to deal with the public, and open the door.
To my surprise it’s not a family but Valerie, with her sisters flanked on either side of her.
“Hi,” she says with her big blue eyes. I know only a few hours have passed since I last saw her, but to see her back when I thought I’d never see her again, to see her fresh-faced on my steps, with the white snow framing her crimson hair and her crimson hair framing her pale face, it’s like an angel has landed on my stoop by mistake.
“Hi.” I eye her sisters. They don’t seem like they’re here for sinister purposes, but you never know with girls. Though I was more or less an only child, our neighbors growing up had five girls and they made it their mission to torture me.
“Hi,” the actress one says, sticking out her hand. “
We never officially met. My name is Sandra.”
“Hi Sandra,” I tell her, giving her hand a firm squeeze, impressed at the strength of her handshake. Very professional. “Nice to meet you. What can I, uh, do for you all?”
“Your accent is amazing,” Sandra says, gushing. “So maybe just keep talking.”
Valerie clears her throat and steps forward. “I didn’t have your phone number and I wanted to talk to you, so I had a taxi drive us around until I recognized your place.”
I raise my brows. That’s the last thing I thought she would have done.
“It didn’t take too long,” Sandra says. “The driver knew where you lived anyway.”
“Say what?” That’s concerning.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure he’s cool. Can we come inside?”
“Of course,” I say, opening the door wider. I’m in such shock that she’s here that my manners have slipped.
They come inside, and the actress immediately starts poking around the living room, looking at books and rugby trophies and framed pictures.
I offer the three of them some espresso to which they all eagerly accept, and while I get the machine whirring, Angie pulls up a stool at the kitchen island and stares at me while I work.
“Never seen an Irish man and an espresso machine before?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me and then slowly nods. “Only at the Starbucks next to the hotel. Just wanted to make sure you were who I thought you were under the unforgiving light of day.”
My brows raise again. “And what’s the verdict?”
“I think you’re trustworthy,” she says and leaves it at that.
“Angie,” Valerie says and elbows her. “Be nice to him, he’s making you coffee.”
“I am nice. But if you’re going to run off with a stranger and pretend to be his fiancé for a few days, I’d like to make sure he’s not an axe-murderer. I wouldn’t be a very good sister if I didn’t do my due diligence.”
“What?” I ask. “Could you repeat that?”
“I want to make sure you’re not an axe murderer.”
I give her a pointed look. “No. The pretending to be my fiancé thing.” I glance at Valerie and now I recognize that hopefully shy and almost giddy expression in her eyes. “You had another think about it?”
My Life in Shambles: A Novel Page 9
