One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

22

“I know what I want.”

I’m barely listening as Claire leans across the kitchen counter, her face hidden by a gel mask.

“That’s good,” I say, staring into my sauce. Can you burn a sauce? It was one of my New Year’s resolutions to cook more. So far all it means is spending more money on takeout as I ruin every recipe I attempt.

“You said you’d do anything I wanted, right?”

“Right,” I say absently before registering her words. “Wait. What?”

“Six months ago when that guy you slept with kept stopping by the apartment—the one who wanted you to go see his one-man play? You said you’d do whatever I wanted if I convinced him you’d moved to Switzerland.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I stop stirring and turn to face her. I think uneasily of the few nice objects I own. “What do you want?”

“I want to borrow Declan.”

I wait. She doesn’t elaborate. “I’m not following.”

“For the Griffiths’ party tomorrow night. I want him to be my date.”

“I thought I was going to the party.”

“You are. You’re going because I need moral support. I need Declan to go to make Mark jealous.”

I snort and start stirring again.

“You said anything,” she reminds me.

“Yeah, but I meant helping you paint your room or being on trash duty for a year. This, what you’re describing, is insane.”

“No, it’s not. He’s very charming. I need someone charming. Did you see him at the singles brunch? He can talk to anyone. He’s perfect party material.”

“He’ll say no.”

“He won’t if you ask him. And I don’t think he will,” she adds. “I think he’s the kind of person who’ll love it.”

To this I say nothing. She’s right. No doubt he would love it. He’d probably think it was hilarious. But the last time I saw Declan was just under a week ago when I caressed his face and then upchucked all over him.

I mean, talk about mixed signals.

He’d been surprisingly chill about it, hazard of the job I guess, or maybe he knew I was already dying of embarrassment, but he helped me clean myself up and brought me back to the table as if nothing had happened. Now I can’t even think of the man without wanting to bang my head against the nearest wall. I’ve already resolved to be as professional as I can the next time I see him and the scenario that Claire’s describing is not it.

“What about Lazlo?” I ask.

“My gym instructor?”

“Our gym instructor,” I say. “I go.”

“You haven’t been in two weeks and you won’t change my mind. I don’t want Lazlo or some guy from your office or the cute FedEx guy. I want Declan.”

“The FedEx guy is pretty cute though.”

“Sarah.”

I purse my lips, turning the heat down. I’ve lost my appetite, but I can’t let her know that. “You two would go together?” I ask carefully. I don’t like that idea. I even more don’t like how much I don’t like it.

“This is purely for jealous-making purposes,” she says quickly. “Nothing more. And you still have to come. I only need Declan for the Mark bit. It would be awkward without you there.”

“It would be awkward with me there as well. I’m not going to the party by myself.”

“So bring the FedEx guy. Please, Sarah. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried everything else.”

“Like talking to Mark?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “I’m not fourteen. I’ve talked with him. I’ve flirted with him. I’ve worn beautiful dresses and high heels. I’ve touched his arm and smiled. I’ve done everything short of employee misconduct and he still hasn’t done anything about it. I want him to see me as someone desirable. As someone other than the woman he works with. And I’ve helped you get rid of guys so many times so the least you can do is help me get one.”

She’s got me there. “I’ll ask,” I say, ignoring her grin. “And you’re right, he might say yes. But if he does that means I don’t have to go.”

She’s already shaking her head. “I need female support.”

I point the spoon at her. “You’re pushing it.”

“Please.” She climbs over our two-seater sofa to hug me. “Please, please, please. Anyone else would kill to go to one of these parties.”

“I hate being the third wheel.”

“You won’t be,” she insists, tightening her arms around me as though she knows she has me. “You can bring someone else. I’ll just add their name to the list.”

I run through potentials in my mind. The thought of bringing an actual date just makes me feel tired. I could bring a friend. Soraya would definitely be interested. Claudia, if I gave her enough time to get to the salon. But neither of them had shut up about “the younger brother,” as they’d dubbed Declan, and the thought of bringing everyone together makes me wince.

“Well?” Claire asks, still hanging off me.

I shake my head. “It’s tomorrow night. Who’s going to be free on a Saturday night at such short notice?”

* * *

“Are you done yet?” Will says loudly on the other side of the door. “Now is not the time to starting learning how to contour.”

“The more you complain the longer I’m going to take,” I yell back. I adjust the straps of my dress and hop, making sure my boobs aren’t going to fall out of it. I won’t last long in these shoes but Claire insisted I wear them, proclaiming everything else I owned to be “unsuitable for the occasion,” which probably means she thinks they look cheap. I didn’t take it personally. They were cheap.

I do a final scan in the mirror and open the door to find Will sitting on the sofa, sulking in his suit. He looks me up and down. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Yes. Why?” I smooth my hands over the skirt. It’s my best one. Blue and clingy and bought on sale. Sexy but not too sexy. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything.”

I take a calming breath. It doesn’t work. “If you’re going to be difficult—”

“You’ll what? Send me home?”

“No one’s stopping you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says shortly. “I canceled some very important Saturday night plans because you told me Amal Clooney is going to be there.”

“She will be. And what plans? You said you had the dentist.”

“Yes, and I intend to have him again.”

“Oh gross, Will.”

I lock myself back in my room and look in the mirror. He’s right. It’s all wrong. With a sigh, I unstrap myself and reach for my trusty black dress. It’s a slight improvement and it’s not like I have many others to choose from. Not for this kind of dress code.

I flatten the fabric against my body, nervous. Not that I particularly care about what Claire’s fancy colleagues think but Declan’s due to arrive any minute and I just…

I’d sent him a text, apologizing profusely about the whole “vomit gate” incident before segueing instantly into Claire’s request, trying to make it sound as ridiculous as possible in the hopes that he’d politely refuse if not outright ignore me. He didn’t.

And while I felt a little better when he assured me again that what happened in O’Shea’s was nothing he hadn’t seen before, I did not love the fact that he jumped at the opportunity to be Claire’s date. Even if it was a fake one.

“You look great,” I say to my reflection, just like my mental-wellness podcast told me to. “You look great and you deserve all you—”

“I can hear you,” Will calls.

I scowl into the mirror and open the door before I can change my mind. Will hasn’t moved.

“Well?”

He looks up from his phone. “What?”

“Is this better?”

“Oh. The other one was fine. I just wanted to annoy you.”

“Okay!” Claire says, coming out of her bedroom in her red dress and matching heels. I can’t tell if this is good or bad timing, seeing as I was two seconds away from killing him. “I’m ready.”

“No comments for her?” I ask Will.

“She looks great.”

“Are we on schedule?” Claire asks.

“Car’s arriving in five minutes.”

“And Declan is two minutes away. He texted me.”

“Did he?” Did he. “I’m getting a drink before we go.”

“I’ll have one too,” Will says. “Thanks for offering.”

I pour us both a vodka soda as the buzzer sounds through the apartment. Claire presses the button to let Declan in while my nerves increase tenfold.

“I guarantee you it won’t be an open bar,” Will says. “Rich people are the stingiest.”

“Does anyone want to put anything in my purse?” Claire asks, shaking her ridiculously large bag.

“You’re such a mom, Claire.”

“Says the girl who never has a tampon when she needs one.”

Will coughs into his drink.

There’s a knock on the door and it takes all my willpower not to start pacing. I force myself to remain by Will as Claire gets it.

“Well?” I hear Declan ask. “Will I do?”

“You look perfect,” Claire squeals. I’m shocked. Claire never squeals. I try to look around her, but she saves me the trouble as she brings him inside.

Declan stands in the kitchen wearing a midnight-blue suit.

He’s shaved but hasn’t done anything to his hair. Not that he needs to. It’s already perfect. He’s perfect. He’s—

Our eyes meet and I turn only to find Will watching me with a little smirk.

“Don’t say a word,” I whisper.

Declan approaches. “Hi, Sarah.”

“Hello,” I say, still not looking at him. “You remember Will. My assistant.”

“Of course,” he says as Will flashes me a glare. Declan reaches past me to hold out his hand and I catch a whiff of his cologne. “Nice to see you again.”

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Claire says, grabbing her purse. “We should go.”

I frown, only halfway through my drink. “I thought you wanted to be late?”

“Yes, fashionably late. Which we will be if we leave now. I don’t want to be late late. Then we’ll—”

“We’re going,” I interrupt before she can work herself into a frenzy. Will downs his drink as Declan winks at Claire. He looks genuinely excited about tonight.

“After you,” he grins, doing a little bow as he gestures Claire out of the room. Her delighted laugh echoes down the stairwell.

Well, that’s just… great.

I look at Will, who rolls his eyes. “Touch me and I’ll scream,” he mutters, stalking past me.

I turn to lock the door, closing it with a little more force than necessary.

Freaking great.

* * *

Claire’s boss lives in the penthouse apartment of a very large, very fancy building in Manhattan with his fancy family and fancy furniture and fancy party guests. I’m wearing the nicest jewelry I own, which isn’t saying a lot, and got my hair done at the salon that afternoon and yet I immediately feel underdressed.

“I feel like I’m in an HBO drama,” Will mutters, gazing around.

I swallow as I take in the large living space before us. It’s all beiges and cream, everything from the carpets to the wall to the furniture. Manhattan glitters behind the large windows while someone plays a grand piano in the corner.

“How did you even get three extra invites?” I ask, trying to smooth my skirt without anyone noticing.

“I caught Mr. Griffith’s assistant stealing client gifts,” Claire says, ignoring our collective look as she searches the room. Why do I get the feeling the gifts weren’t a box of chocolates and a bottle of mid-priced Malbec?

Will straightens his tie, looking uncomfortable for the first time.

Only Declan remains unfazed. “Where’s the lucky man?” he asks.

“Over there.” She sounds nervous. “Beside the woman in the diamonds.”

We all follow her gaze, probably not discreetly at all, to a slightly older, attractive man chatting to a group of people in the middle of the room.

“He looks like one of the Mad Men,” Will says approvingly and I find myself nodding in agreement.

Claire’s shown me pictures of him dozens of times, but I’ve never actually met him. I can see instantly why she’s so fixated on him. He’s everything you’d expect a successful, rich person in this city to be. A tailored suit, a white smile, perfectly cut hair and a tan that no doubt comes from a holiday home in Barbados rather than out of a bottle. As soon as I see him, he’s all I can see. Like a magnet drawing you to him.

“And he’s so nice,” Claire said to me once after another failed date, when all she could think about was him. “And funny. You wouldn’t think it but he’s genuinely funny.”

As if on cue the group laughs and he grins at them all, shaking his head as he finishes whatever story he was telling.

Claire looks torn between wanting to jump him here and now or fleeing the room.

“How handsy do we want to be?” Declan asks, distracting her. “Level one, light hand-holding; level five, we need to talk about payment upfront.”

I glare at him, but Claire only laughs. “Let’s go for a two point five. Adjusting as needed.”

“At least make it a three,” Declan says in mock disappointment. “I got my suit pressed and everything.”

Make it a three. Ha ha ha. I’m so funny.

I scowl inwardly as they tease each other. His hand goes to the small of her back, guiding her further into the room and I have to drag my eyes away to keep from staring at it as I follow them. I concentrate on Mark instead, watching him from the corner of my eye and am surprised to find him already looking our way, his eyes on Claire even as he continues to talk. My mood brightens slightly. Maybe he isn’t as oblivious as Claire thinks he is.

Or maybe he just has the hots for Declan.

“So, is he your ex?” Will asks as he whips a champagne flute from a passing waiter.

“He’s my colleague,” Claire says, distracted.

“But you’ve hooked up.”

“No. I mean we kissed once. But nothing more.”

Will stares at her in disbelief. “You’re in love with the guy and you haven’t slept with him.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Claire says.

“Good. What if he’s bad in bed?”

“What?”

I try to step on his foot in my stiletto heel, but he dodges me easily.

“You need to be prepared,” he says. “You’re accumulating months of buildup in your mind. All that tension, all that hope. You like him, you love him, maybe he’s a good kisser. You finally get together and…” He trails off with a shrug. “He’s like a wet fish.”

“He won’t be bad in bed,” I say firmly but Claire’s panicking now, so I stare at Declan until he gets the hint. His hand moves from her back to slip around her waist, his expression serene.

“Let’s get a drink,” he says. “Alone.” And together they stride off into the party, leaving me with Will.

He meets my pointed look with one of his own. “You know I’m right.”

It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

An hour later I’m standing by myself on the terrace, watching Claire through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Thirty minutes ago Declan successfully maneuvered them into Mark’s circle, where they’ve remained. Declan is talking. He’s been doing most of the talking since they joined. And whatever he’s saying must be hilarious because the group has been laughing nonstop since then.

His hands are all over her. Touching her waist, her arm, her hair. He’s looking at her, he’s smiling at her, he’s definitely at a three point five if not a four by this stage. Which, to be totally honest, I don’t think the situation calls for.

“This is fun,” Will deadpans, appearing before me with fresh glasses of champagne. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

I push him to the side so he’s not obstructing my view. “If you knew you wouldn’t like it, why did you come?”

“I thought at the very least you’d talk to me.”

“I am talking to you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re standing there sulking. And stop fidgeting,” he adds, handing me a glass.

“It’s these shoes,” I grumble, shifting my weight. “They’re killing me.”

“You’d make the worst prom date, you know that?”

“I would never have gone to prom with you. I was extremely popular in high school.”

“No, you weren’t. Popular girls don’t run away to New York. They stay in their hometowns and have lots of babies.”

“What’s it like inside your head?” I wonder out loud. “With everyone in their neat little boxes, all equally hated by you.”

“It’s organized. And uncomplicated. And I much prefer it to whatever melodrama is happening inside of yours.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? You still like the charming Irish man.”

I don’t answer and turn instead to face the panoramic views of Central Park’s treetops and the famous skyline beyond. It’s a view that should have awed me, no matter how many years I’ve lived in this city, but instead all I want to do is turn back around and continue my Declan watch.

“I’m sorry I made you cancel on your dentist,” I say after a minute.

“That’s okay,” he says with a sigh. “The thought of sleeping with someone who knows that much about my teeth freaks me out a little.”

I laugh and take a sip of my champagne. “I appreciate it nevertheless.”

“Yeah well, Amal said she liked my tie.”

“It’s a lovely tie.”

“Matthias came to see me the other day.”

I blink at the change of subject. “About what?”

“You. He wanted to know ‘how you are doing.’ That last bit is a direct quote.”

I frown, confused. Matthias has barely spoken to me since I turned him down for our drink redo. He’s been polite in the office but the way he’s avoided me more or less made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with me. Especially since I’ve taken on Declan’s project.

“What did you say?”

“That you were just fine,” he says seriously. “No thanks to him.”

“You didn’t.”

“Not the second bit.”

“I don’t know why you don’t like him,” I say, exasperated. “He’s a good guy.”

“If you believe that, you’re more naïve than I thought,” Will says, but he turns before I can ask him what he means. “Lover boy’s coming.”

I glance over my shoulder, my thoughts instantly changing direction when I see Declan heading our way. Behind him, Claire remains at Mark’s side.

Declan grabs a red wine from a nearby waiter. “I could get used to the escort business,” he jokes as he joins us. “What’s wrong with you,” he adds, glancing at me. “You’ve been standing in the same spot all night.”

“She can’t walk in her shoes,” Will says.

“I’m fine.” I sip my champagne as my eyes drift back to Declan. He knew I was here. He was watching me just like I was watching him.

Will finishes his glass and sets it down. “I’m going to look for Amal again,” he announces and wanders off before either of us can say anything.

Declan’s free hand slides into his pocket, his eyes drifting purposefully down my body.

“Enjoying the view?” I ask sharply.

His grin is instant, glorious. I feel it on every inch of me.

“How’s my office coming along?” he asks.

“Brilliantly. You could see for yourself if you joined any of our progress calls.”

“It’s hard to get away from the bars,” he says. “Mika fills me in.”

“And what does she say?”

“That you won’t stop asking after me.”

“Funny.”

“You know, in a couple of weeks it will all be done,” he says, settling against the balcony. “No more professional relationship.”

“Do I have to remind you you’re on a date with my roommate?”

He gives me a look before turning pointedly to where Claire and Mark stand, laughing together.

“She’s dumped me,” he says sadly. “And you’re making it very hard to concentrate on her.”

“I’m standing outside.”

“In that outfit.” His eyes skim over me again. “Are you wearing it on purpose?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wore that dress the night we went to the pub. The night before the wedding.”

“No, I…” But I glance down, remembering. “A lucky guess.”

“Excuse me?”

“Guys don’t notice dresses let alone remember them.”

“They remember ones like that.”

Oh God. I sigh inwardly, steeling myself. “Declan—” I begin.

“Oh no,” he says, interrupting me. “I know what ‘Declan’ means. You’re trying to get rid of me. And I’m telling you right now that I don’t accept.”

“You don’t accept?”

“Ironic isn’t it,” Declan continues. “I’m here to make Mark jealous but in return, I’m also making you jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

“You want to go somewhere after this?”

“No.”

“Why not? New York City. Pretty girl. Big dreams. Or we could find a dark corner. A coat closet perhaps. Make out.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to Will,” I say, sarcastic.

“We can invite him too if you like.”

“I’m here till Claire leaves. And besides…” I trail off as he steps closer, his face mere inches from mine. The city lights reflect in his eyes as he looks at me, along with the moon and the stars, and oh God. I take another sip of champagne as my mouth runs dry.

“Besides what?”

I smile weakly. “I really can’t walk in these shoes.”

“I’d carry you but—”

“Your back, yeah, I know.”

“I can think of other things we can do.” His voice has gone so quiet I have to lean in to hear him. “Where’s your necklace?”

“What?” I frown, confused at the sudden change in direction.

“The night at the hotel you were wearing that dress and you had a gold necklace with a little…” He makes a circular motion at the base of his throat. “Round thing.”

“It was a drop pendant.”

“I liked it.”

I have a sudden flashback, a forgotten memory of him catching it gently in his teeth as he moved over my body. A tingle runs down my spine.

“Are you cold?” he asks, noticing the shiver.

“A little.”

“A little,” he repeats softly and, oh, I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him badly but before I can Will appears before us, looking unusually worried.

“If you two can stop dry humping each other with your eyes,” he says. “Your friend has a problem.”