One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

28

I stare through the keyhole at the top of Declan’s head as he knocks again and again and again.

“Leave me alone,” I yell.

“No.”

“You just said you’d go.”

“I changed my mind. Open the door.”

“No. Go away.” I stand back, adopting a defensive stance as if he’s about to break the thing down.

“I’m not going to let you overthink this,” he calls. “I’ve been standing out here for five minutes and now I’m sick of it, so let me in.”

“No.”

“Sarah!” He knocks again, loudly and I wince, thinking about the neighbors. “Let me explain.”

“You didn’t want to explain before.”

“And I still don’t but I will now if that’s the only thing that’s going to help you get over this.” There’s a softer thump against the door like he’s rested his head against it. “I’ve spent too long trying to guess what’s going on in your mind and waiting for the right moment. So I give up. You’re right. There is no right moment. There’s only now. So let me in so we can talk.”

I don’t want to talk. I want to scream into my pillow again.

“We’re going to hash this out eventually,” he continues. “Maybe it would be best to wait until you’ve calmed down and I’ve figured out what I’m going to say but I’m not going to waste another few days waiting for that to happen, so let me in. Please, Sarah.”

His voice drops for the last two words, catching me off guard. The only reason I’m able to hear them is because I’ve moved closer to the door again. Drawn to him despite my best efforts.

There’s no more noise from the hallway and as I undo the latch I almost think he’s left when he suddenly barges inside.

“I’m not in love with her,” he says, throwing his bag down again.

I close the door. “But you have feelings for her.”

“I do. Mild annoyance right now. Nothing compared to how annoyed I am with you.”

“Oh, great start.”

“Of course I have feelings for her, Sarah. I grew up with her and I married her. What I feel for her can’t exactly be summed up in a neat little word. But I don’t love her. I don’t talk to her and I don’t think about her. I haven’t for a very long time.”

“Then why did you go to see her?”

“To sign the divorce papers,” he says. “I want to finalize the divorce.”

“And figure out what you feel about her?” I persist stubbornly.

“I don’t feel anything for her!” he exclaims. “Hence the fecking divorce!”

“Paul said—”

“Paul doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“He said you refused to sign them when she asked. He said you thought she would change her mind and that’s why you never went through with it.”

It’s like I’ve struck him. He stares at me, dumbfounded, his mouth forming words even though he makes no sound. “He thinks I refused?”

“That’s what he said.”

“That’s not true. I mean, yes, at the time I didn’t want her to leave me but I also wasn’t about to trap her in some marriage she wanted no part of. Is that what everyone thinks?” He looks genuinely perturbed. So much so I almost believe him.

“Then why didn’t you go through it?’

“Because it’s expensive! Do you know how much it costs to get divorced? I could barely afford to pay my rent and she wasn’t doing much better. Not with her student loans. So, we agreed on a separation period for a year or two while we got our shit together.”

“It’s been a year or two and you both seem to be doing pretty well for yourselves.”

“You really overestimate how much I earn running a bar, don’t you?”

“So why go to her now? After all this time you just suddenly thought, oh hey, better scratch that off my to-do list.”

“Because I thought—” He breaks off suddenly and I realize that this, this moment right here, is what he didn’t want to talk about. He still doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s watching me like I’m a scared animal who’s about to bolt.

“Because,” he repeats, calmer this time, “I thought there was… is the beginning of something big between us. And I didn’t want her hanging over my head. Hanging over both our heads. I went to see her to finish that part of my life. So that when I did tell you about it, I could answer your questions. So you wouldn’t have any doubt.”

I stare at him, searching for any sign he’s lying to me. When I don’t respond he turns and goes back to the sofa, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his face as if he’s suddenly exhausted.

“You told me you didn’t want a relationship and I’ll be honest with you, Sarah, I wasn’t planning on one either. Not with the bars so busy and the business finally beginning to take off. But nor am I stupid enough to turn my back on something good just because I wasn’t expecting it. I kept messing things up when it came to you and I wanted so badly to get this part right. I wanted to tie up that part of my life so you wouldn’t look at me like that.”

I blink, realizing I’m staring at him. His gaze drops to the coffee table, his shoulders rounded in on himself.

“So, you signed them?” I ask once I’ve organized my thoughts.

“No.”

“No?”

“She refused.”

“She… why?”

“I don’t know.” He sounds very, very tired. “I don’t know what she’s thinking. She seemed confused.”

“I’m not,” I say. “There’s only one reason she wouldn’t sign them. She wants to get back together with you.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to get back together with her.” His head snaps up, his lips a thin line. “How many times do I have to say that? Or have I been talking to the ether this entire time?”

I glare at him, letting him know that I am the only person allowed to be angry right now.

“Why don’t people talk about it?” I ask. “Why didn’t Paul tell Annie about her? Why all the lies? How come in Kilgorm you—”

“Do you want me to answer or are you just going to keep going?” he interrupts, sarcastic before he catches himself. “Sorry,” he says, sounding more contrite. “I didn’t sleep.”

He sits up, taking a breath. “People talk. It’s the reason I don’t go home a lot. Everyone there knows me and knows what happened. You’re from a small town, Sarah. I’m sure you can imagine what it’s like. Having to deal with all the pitying looks, the conversations that would stop as soon as I came into the room. I told you Harry offered to bring me over here. I may not have been totally honest about that. He didn’t look at my middling degree and a few years of experience and see his next business partner. He offered me the job so I could get out of there. So I could start something new and be someone new and not have Fiona hammered into my brain everywhere I went. I don’t know why Paul didn’t tell Annie. I can only assume it’s because I told him so many times to never bring it up. I don’t define myself by her anymore. You have to understand that.”

He slumps back against the couch, looking bleak.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he says finally. “I’m trying to think of more, but I’ve got nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

I wrap my arms around my body. “I thought you—”

I jump as a phone rings beside me. It’s Declan’s, where he left it on the coffee table.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” I ask when he doesn’t move.

“No,” he says, his eyes on me. “We’re not done.”

“But it’s Paul,” I say, glancing at the screen.

“I don’t care. What were you going to say?”

The ringing falls silent only to immediately start again.

“Mother of—” He grabs it, looking very much like he wants to throw it against the wall. “What is it?” He disappears into my bedroom, shutting the door.

It’s not until he leaves that I realize how tense I am. My jaw is clenched, my shoulders stiff. There’s a line on my brow so deep it’s probably permanent. I force myself to relax, dropping my arms and taking a breath.

God.

I stand cautiously, searching my feelings for any lingering anger but there’s none. If anything, I feel relieved.

I believe him.

I swallow, glad my leg has stopped shaking. I can hear Declan murmuring in the other room, so I go to the counter and rip open the bag of pretzels. I haven’t eaten all day, too nervous to keep anything down, and the first taste of it makes my stomach growl.

I grow calmer as I crunch, my thoughts a little clearer even if my feelings aren’t and I’m almost proud of myself for confronting him, for standing my ground and making him talk to me.

He’s right. We’re not done. But we’re getting there. We’re talking. He’s talking. More than just flirting, more than cautious chasing and goading.

I want to tell him what I really think. How much I missed him when he was gone. How upset I was to find out about her. How scared I was about today because I… because…

I turn guiltily as the door opens, so nervous I can barely speak, but one look at his face stops me in my tracks.

“It’s Mam,” he says, palming the phone nervously. “She was in a car crash.”

“Oh my God. Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. I think so. Paul says she’s refusing to go to the hospital.”

“Paul’s with her?” I ask, confused. “In Ireland?”

“No, she’s here,” he says and I remember what Annie said about Mary coming to stay. “She’s over visiting friends. Annie was driving. Paul says she’s fine,” he adds seeing the panic on my face. “But Mam hit her head and…”

“You have to go see her.”

He nods, as though relieved I supplied the answer. “Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, slipping the phone into his pocket. He runs a hand through his hair and heads toward the door but only gets to the kitchen island when he hesitates and turns back to me. I’m already moving, grabbing my purse where it’s slung over the sofa and slipping my sandals on.

“I’m coming too.”

“You don’t have to.”

I give him a look telling him to shut up and he nods gratefully, too distracted to argue, and thirty seconds later we’re out the door, hailing a cab.