The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Sarah Raymond

  “Ya would look good in anything, love,” was all he responded. Of course the compliment made her heart race into overdrive, but gave her absolutely no idea as to how she was supposed to dress. Together, she and Sammie had decided that it is better to be overdressed than under, and though her outfit was on the side of formal, it could easily be made casual with a quick shoe swap.

  As they sat at the table, time seemed to creep by. Casey was getting more anxious with each passing second, and it took all she had not to just scream in the silence. Her head was racing with scenario after scenario. What if it was awkward? What if it wasn’t? What if they had nothing to talk about? What if the food upset her stomach? What if they kissed again? What if they slept together? Would it be as intense as their kiss?

  Her insanely overactive brain was interrupted by the sound of the buzzer. He was here. Her heart stopped. Noticing that Casey was super-glued to her chair, Sammie went over to answer the intercom.

  “Casey’s apartment, Sammie speaking,” she said in a jesting tone.

  “Um, hello there. This is Conor M’Cullagh. I’m here to pick up Ms. Casey for supper. Is she done gettin’ ready then?”

  Sammie turned to Casey and mouthed “Oh-my-God!” His accent apparently had that effect on most women. Funny, that was the same reaction Casey had when she first met Conor. Delicious.

  “She is just about ready. Come on up.”

  Casey thought for a moment that she was having a heart attack. Not only was this the first date Casey had been on in years, but her idiot best friend had just invited him into her apartment. Dammit! She had about one minute before he was knocking at the door seeing her and Sammie’s shit strewn about and probably getting completely turned off by their bachelorette pad.

  “Sammie, why didn’t you just tell him I would meet him downstairs? Shit, shit. Help me clean this crap up.” As she frantically picked up clothes and threw them in unseen places, Sammie grabbed her hands and held them tight.

  “Casey, you are going to be fine. The apartment is pretty much spotless, and you are a human being. You don’t want him to think that you are fake. Real people have real shit lying around sometimes. It is not a big deal if your apartment looks lived in.” Sammie was right. There was always a method to her madness.

  “Now, go into the bathroom and fix your lipstick. Sit on the tub, and take a beat. I will answer the door.” Sammie always did have a way of calming Casey’s freak-outs.

  In the bathroom, Casey stared at herself in the mirror. She actually looked good, and was glad to see that her frantic cleaning spell hadn’t smeared any of her makeup. She heard a knock at the door, followed by Sammie’s light-hearted laugh. What she would not do to have that girl’s confidence. She took a deep breath. You can do this, she thought. After a moment of mental preparation, she walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.

  Conor was standing in the middle of the apartment, eyes locked on her. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a black button-up shirt, and a stylish blazer. His shoes resembled motorcycle boots, but matched his attire perfectly. He was absolutely gorgeous. She was so relieved that she was not overdressed!

  As she approached him, he held out a single rose. “Ya look stunnin’.” It was simple, but genuine. He had a way of making her feel like she was the only person in the room. Her heart melted. She smiled wide, knowing that she was probably blushing from head to toe.

  “Thanks. You look…” Her eyes traveled his body, trying to find the words to express such perfection.

  He looked down at himself. “Did I leave me fly open then?” he asked in a joking manner.

  “I was trying to find a word that was better than amazing,” she said giggling.

  “Oh, so I left the writer without words, then?”

  “I guess you did.” They stared into one another’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity. She would have no problem spending eternity there, losing herself in those emerald gems. She had almost forgotten that they were still in the apartment, and that Sammie was sitting there watching them as if they were characters in one of those cheap romance films she loved so much. Snapping out of her hypnosis, Casey asked, “Should we go?” Conor nodded.

  “Okay, then. Have fun you two,” Sammie said with a smile as she gave Casey a discreet thumbs-up. “It was very nice to meet you, Conor. Take care of my girl, or I will have to hunt you down.” Casey shot Sammie a scolding look.

  Conor smiled politely and said, “A pleasure to meet ya as well, Samantha. I will take good care of Casey.”

  Once out on the street, Casey paused to inhale the ocean air deeply. As she exhaled, it was as if all of her anxiety about the date washed away. She didn’t really understand why, but she felt completely at ease with Conor. He offered his arm and she took it loosely. He was such a gentleman. It must be an Irish thing, she thought. She had never met a man in the United States that possessed the kind of manners that Conor did. It was a nice change. Jace had been raised to have a decent range of manners, but he was nothing like Conor. If she had to describe her first impression of Conor, she would say that he was “old-fashioned.”

  “I canno’ get over how amazin’ ya look tonight,” he said as they walked down the narrow street. “I thought we might walk a bit, if that is all right with ya? I love the smell of the ocean ‘round this part of the city. It reminds me of home.”

  “Of course,” she said. “That was a big part of why I chose to take a job here. I can’t seem to get enough of it.”

  “Tell me about your friend Samantha. How did the two of ye come to be friends?”

  “Well, Sammie and I have been friends since we were children. We were both friends with another girl who moved halfway through the school year. We didn’t really like each other at first, but we kind of just clicked after the other girl moved away. We have been friends ever since.”

  “So she comes from Texas, too, then?” he asked.

  “Yes, she actually showed up unexpectedly on my doorstep the night you and I officially met,” she replied.

  “I bet the two of ye had quite a lot to talk about then?” he asked.

  “You have no idea.” He looked puzzled. “We had a lot of things we had to settle. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time, and we didn’t exactly part well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope ya got it worked out. It is so good to have old friends in your life.” He stopped there. He didn’t ask her if she wanted to talk about it. He did not push her, which was an attribute that more men should learn, and one that she respected. They walked along in silence for a bit after that. It was so nice to just be with someone.

  After a long stroll through the city, they stopped in front of a medium-sized cruise ship dubbed The Spirit of Boston.

  “I am relieved that you’re so fond of the ocean. I thought we might have our supper on a cruise ‘round the harbor.”

  Casey was ecstatic. She had always wanted to go on a dinner cruise. When she had visited the city with Jace, they had only gotten as far as a whale watching tour, and they had not even got to see any whales. They had spent the entirety of the tour drinking and having indiscreet sex in the bathroom. Aside from that, she hadn’t been out on the water much. “I have never been on a harbor cruise.”

  “Well come on then, love.” She did so enjoy when he called her that, though she couldn’t tell if he was paving the way for a future relationship. Maybe he called a lot of women that, and she was thinking way too much into a generic pet name.

  He led her up a ramp, and inside the ship. The smell of the ocean was replaced by the smell of delectable dishes, fresh rose petals, and rich chocolate. The space inside was teeming with romance. Couples stared longingly at one another over candlelight while soft music lulled overhead. The dance floor was alive with people, young and old, swaying hand in hand. It was almost too much. Though she admired the allure of it all, she began to wonder if a dinner cruise might be too much for a first date. It was almost as if, by painting a romantic scene, she
would be forced to fall in love with Conor. Maybe that would not be such a bad thing, but the idea scared her to death.

  As she was beginning to feel turned off by the unoriginal impending date, the hostess motioned them up a small spiral staircase. Casey gasped at what she saw before her. The space opened to the small deck of the ship, with a single clothed table in the middle. On the table set for two, there was a bottle of champagne chilling beside the loveliest bouquet of flowers. The small deck had dim lights strung about, and lit candles that seemed to dance in the moonlight. There was a man playing soft tunes on a violin off to the side, barely making himself seen, and a well-dressed waiter meant to serve at their beck and call. Conor had obviously spared no expense on this date. He had planned out a very unique and thoughtful evening. Casey suddenly felt guilty for her thoughts about Conor’s plans earlier. Though everyone below the deck was drowning in forced “love,” Casey was on the deck alone with a magnificent man who had gone out of his way to woo her.

  Conor led her to the table and pulled out her chair. Score for Conor, she thought. He sat across from her. The waiter poured each of them a glass of champagne and recited the menu. They were to have crab cakes and a small salad for an appetizer, fresh lobster and shrimp scampi for the main course, and crème brulee for desert. “Will that work for the both of you?” asked the waiter. Casey’s mouth watered as she simply nodded. He smiled graciously, announced that the cruise would begin soon, and disappeared below deck. Sitting on the deck alone with Conor and the violinist, Casey thought how this was the most extravagant date she had ever been on, and they hadn’t even tasted the food yet!

  “A toast,” Conor said as he raised his glass, “to the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, who thankfully said yes to a date with an old Irishman. Cheers!”

  “Cheers,” she said as she took a sip of her champagne. She sat down the glass just as the ship began to make its way out onto the dark water. As they slowly eased out into the harbor, it did not feel as if they were moving, but floating gracefully. The air was thick with salt from the sea, and mingled perfectly with the bouquet of flowers. Casey’s heart drummed inside her chest, and she released the last of any tension that was pent up inside her body. The setting could not be more perfect if it was painted on a canvas.

  “I have a question for ya,” Conor asked. When Casey nodded, he said, “How is it that a young woman like ya is not married with a bunch of little ones runnin’ around?” Casey’s heart must have stopped. Panic consumed her as she calculated how to answer him. She was not yet ready to break down that barrier. Conor, perfect as he was, was a stranger to her. Still, she did not want to lie to him. What do I do, what do I do? To her relief, Conor was a very observant man. He must have realized from what had to have been a terrified look on her face that he had just hit a sore subject. “We don’t have to talk about it if ya don’t feel comfortable.” Casey clutched her lips together tightly, as if doing so would hold in the tears threatening to escape her eyes. Unwilling to reveal any further emotion on the subject, she just shook her head and dropped her eyes to the table.

  Just in time to squash the awkward moment between them, the waiter returned with their appetizers. “This looks delicious,” she said to Conor as she shook the emotional turmoil from her mind.

  She guessed that Conor felt embarrassed about bringing up a sore subject, as he recovered with, “So, tell me about how ya came to be a writer.” He must have taken the hint that all personal questions were out of bounds for the moment. Casey, feeling more comfortable with answering generic questions, told him all about her passion for writing, and described to him how her hobby had evolved into a career. Feeling safe discussing college, she divulged some of her experiences as a young student, and what life had been like during that time. Of course, she left out the parts about Jace. As far as Conor knew, she had been a single, hard-working undergrad, focusing only on establishing herself as a writer. She felt comfortable in that it was not a total lie.

  They talked on and on, the food being the needed social lubricant to pave the way for a flowing conversation. After Casey had told Conor stories from college, and he had reciprocated on his own experience in academia, their main course arrived. “I took a chance on ordering ya seafood. I figured that a girl who moved from the South to be near the water had to have a lust for the sea,” Conor said as they began to eat.

  “I do not like all things seafood,” she replied, “but the menu is comprised of my three favorites.”

  “Ya don’t like fish then?” She shook her head. “Well, have ya ever eaten a fish that ya caught by your own hand?”

  “I have never fished before, actually,” she stated.

  “Ya were born in Texas, but ya have never fished? Isn’t that some kind of sin?” he asked, obviously stunned by her lack of ability. When she shook her head again, he said, “Don’t tell me ya are one of those indoorsy vixens that has never been within ten feet of a campfire?”

  She was mildly offended as she explained her case. “I love the outdoors, and yes, I love to camp. I just find it cruel to catch defenseless creatures unless you plan to eat them. Since I don’t like fish, there has never been any reason for me to try and catch one.”

  Conor smiled widely at her, and his eyes went soft. She noticed that they had a gleam in them that hadn’t been there before. “Well, ya truly are one of a kind. Good-hearted women are hard to come by in this city.”

  Casey was flattered. Conor really did have a way with words. As the dinner continued, they talked about a range of different subjects. She found out that Conor was thirty-seven years old, which explained the hints of gray in his hair. When she asked about his childhood, he seemed just as reluctant as she was to talk about his past. She could relate to his hesitance. Casey had been raised by her father after her mother passed away during birth. She could not help but to wonder about his past. Was he hiding something as well?

  They had also talked about baseball, as was a conversation piece that often arose among Bostonians. She told him all about how she had never liked sports until she saw a game at Fenway, and then became the ultimate fan. The conversation flowed freely, and there was no hint of awkwardness. All in all, Casey thought that this was the best first date she had ever been on.

  They drank champagne until the bottle was empty, and then ordered another drink. Casey chose her go-to beer, and Conor a stout Irish whiskey. He was surprised and thoroughly impressed by her choice of Irish beer.

  After the meal had come and gone, and the dessert was warmly coating their stomachs, Conor asked Casey for a dance. She offered her hand, and together they swayed in the moonlight. The silence was golden, and she got lost in the moments there, nuzzled against him. His movements were graceful as he led her in circles. There, on their private deck aboard the Spirit of Boston, Casey felt safe. With his body melded into hers, covering her like a blanket, nothing bad could pierce the moment. She let him be her protector. For once, her mind was still, and she let herself go. He pulled away slightly to gaze into her eyes. When he bent to kiss her, she realized that this time was different. The same heat and desire existed between them, but it was as if he was pressing his lips not only to hers, but also to her soul. As his tongue lightly danced against hers and her eyes closed, she felt as though she was in a dream. Time once again slowed, and the water around them stilled. There was nothing but the two of them, frozen in the moonlight.

  They remained on the deck of the ship, intensely connected for long moments. Casey was unaware how long they had been there, and she did not care. He was unlike anyone she had ever met. The way that he kissed her showed his yearning for her. She was terrified to admit it, but she knew in this moment that she needed to be with him. He was the key to moving on. She hoped that he could be the one to pull from her darkness and put her on the path toward the future.

  When they finally broke from the kiss that might have lasted for hours, Conor’s lids were heavy as he stared at her. He was so handsome in the m
oonlight. The glint of light reflecting off the water accentuated his masculine features. He would make beautiful children. The thought surprised her, and she grew frightened at where it had come from. A new man in her life was something that she had not wanted any time soon, but children, something she never wanted again. She was not at all prepared to have that conversation with someone she cared about. A part of her hoped that with Conor, she would never have to.

  When the boat returned to the dock, Conor suggested they get a drink at a pub nearby. They walked a short distance to The Whiskey Priest, a bar on the water that specialized in aged whiskeys of every flavor. Though it seemed strange to go from a romantic dinner cruise to a lively pub, it was a welcome distraction from the chaos going on inside her mind. Besides, Casey had always wanted to try whiskey that was older than her, which was exactly what they did. Tonight was definitely a night for firsts.

  After about an hour, and a few shots, Casey felt it best to call it a night. She was feeling fairly tipsy, and ultimately confused. She not only needed to evaluate the evening and her overwhelming attraction to Conor, but she needed to get in touch with her true self and sort her feelings. The evening had been amazing, but she knew it was time to end it. Any longer, and she could get addicted to this well-mannered gentleman.

  “I think it is time for me to be getting home,” Casey stated.

  Though Conor looked somewhat disappointed, he said, “All right, love. Let me pay the bill and I’ll walk ya home.”

  Outside, he offered his arm, and Casey took it once again. As they walked, the conversation flowed, and their laughter bellowed through the streets. It seemed odd to Casey that she felt so at ease with this stranger. She wanted desperately to know everything about him. There is always time. But she was wrong. There was not always time. Sometimes time was robbed from you. She was sure that she and Jace would have years’ worth of time on the horizon, but she had been sorely mistaken. She did not want to underestimate time again, especially not with Conor.