One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

3

“Sarah!”

I come to an abrupt halt in the arrivals lounge of Dublin airport as my name rings out across the concourse. A sharply suited businessman behind me tsks but I ignore him, standing on my toes as I peer over the people in front of me. For a moment I’m convinced I imagined it. Then I glimpse a red sundress and shoulder-length blond hair as Annie emerges from the onlookers and then I can’t see anything at all because she’s right in front of me, pulling me tight against her until I struggle to breathe.

I can’t believe it. A few seconds ago, I was cursing everything about this journey. My four hours of sleep, my middle seat right by the restrooms, the three glasses of terrible red wine I drank against Claire’s advice. All of it bad. But none of it matters anymore because I haven’t seen my best friend in eight months and now she’s here and I’m here and soon everything will go back to normal.

“What did you say?” I ask as she mumbles something into my hair.

“You smell of plane.”

I push back against her bony shoulders, laughing as I adjust my grip to hug her properly.

“Look at you,” I say in wonder when we finally break apart.

“I’m crying.”

“You’re glowing.”

“I got a lash lift for the wedding. Paul says it makes me look a Disney cartoon.”

“Well, tell him some guys are into that.”

I can’t stop staring at her. I know absence makes the heart grow fonder, but she looks better than I’ve ever seen her. Her skin is clear and tanned, her shorter hair accentuating those cheekbones I’ve always been jealous of. Even crying she looks good, not like the puffy splotchy mess I turn into.

“What else did you do to yourself? Some kind of miracle potion?”

She grins. “It must be all this Irish air.”

“They should bottle the stuff.”

“I think they actually do.” She takes the luggage cart from me and wheels it through the glass doors. As soon as we’re outside a cool breeze hits us, making me shiver. Annie, despite her bare legs and sleeveless dress, doesn’t seem to notice. “Maybe there’s something in the water here.”

“Or maybe it’s love,” I tease, glancing at her sparkling engagement ring. “Where is the groom anyway?”

“At the hotel.”

“You got a cab all the way here?”

“No,” she laughs. “I have a rental.”

I slow my steps as she leads me to the parking lot and try to keep my tone as casual as possible. “You’re driving?”

“Not this again,” Annie groans.

I hide a wince. Annie isn’t exactly a bad driver, she’s just very accident prone when she’s behind the wheel. I’ve only been in a car with her a few times but in those times, she’s lost one bumper, hit two curbs and had three flat tires. And that’s not to mention the two crashes she had before I met her.

“Don’t they drive on the other side of the road in Ireland?” I try not to sound as worried as I feel.

“The same side as in London. I drive all the time in London! If I can drive there, I can drive here.”

She stops beside a silver Audi and I stare at the dent in the side.

“That happened on the first day,” she explains when she sees me looking. “Nothing’s happened since.”

I put my luggage into the trunk, already picturing the headlines. bride-to-be killed days before her wedding in car crash chaos.

“Are you tired?” she asks as I slide into the passenger seat. “We’re having dinner at the hotel tonight, but you don’t have to come.”

“Of course, I’m coming. The maid of honor means the guest of honor.”

“Not sure that’s how it works but okay.”

“Besides,” I say, “I only have a few days to find my own Irish husband.”

She smirks. “Now that I can help with.”

She starts telling me about Paul’s good-looking cousins and before I know it, we’re out of the airport and into the countryside. Despite a rocky start with a series of roundabouts, my worries about Annie’s driving record soon fade as we get onto the road. I don’t get to see much of the city, the highway circles around it, but I’m fascinated by the world outside my window, so different from the urban, building-crammed landscape I’m used to. Lush dark hedges surround us on either side, bordering impossibly green fields that stretch to low mountains in the distance. I catch glimpses of a blue sky above us, hidden behind thick white clouds that seem to change shape every time I look at them.

We stop at a small town for lunch and I insist on dragging her to a tourist shop to spend my newly converted cash. I emerge twenty minutes later with a knitted Aran sweater that will look very chic come fall and a stack of postcards to send to family back home. I’m tempted by some shamrock earrings, but Annie puts her foot down.

“I’m marrying an Irish man,” she says flatly. “And he’ll kill me if he sees you wearing those.”

I buy them anyway when she’s not looking and it isn’t long before the mountains in the distance are almost within reach. Eventually, we get off the highway and drive down the east coast, over winding country roads that have Annie pursing her lips in concentration. It’s the only silent part of our trip as I don’t dare say anything to distract her. But we make it through unscathed and barely an hour later, we reach the village where Paul grew up.

Kilgorm, Annie informs me in a practiced speech, was a small market village that now relies on visitors to the nearby medieval castle and local hotel. It is a community steeped in history, its inhabitants proud and close-knit.

It’s also freaking adorable.

I gawk as we drive past the brightly colored terraced buildings and neat village square. Faded bunting stretches above our heads, crisscrossing the roads while carefully maintained flowerboxes dot the narrow sidewalk. I feel like I’m in a tourist advert.

“That man is smoking a pipe,” I say loudly as we pass an elderly man in a flat cap, sitting comfortably on a bench outside a B&B.

“Isn’t it cute?” Annie waves at someone who recognizes her. “Paul hates it when I tell him it’s cute, but it is. That’s his uncle’s pub,” she adds, nodding to a cheery red-painted building on our left. I open the window as we pass a local school, listening to the shrieks of children as I spot two churches, three more pubs and…

“Oh my God.”

Annie speeds up as we reach a small general store but not quick enough for me to miss the giant poster of her and Paul in the window, accompanied by a hand-painted sign saying congratulations!

“I told them to take that down,” she mutters as I twist to face her.

“You’re famous.”

Annie squirms in her seat. “It’s Paul’s great-uncle’s store. It’s a real family occasion around here.” She glances at me as we zoom out of the village, back into the countryside. “Stop it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I say, innocently, thinking about how the most important thing I’ll ever do is go back and take a million photos to embarrass her with.

“They’re excited,” Annie continues and I squint as the dappled tree cover gives way to bright sunshine once again.

“Is that Paul?” I ask, pointing to a figure up ahead.

Annie’s mood lifts as she catches sight of him. She beeps the horn and he turns, waving when he sees us. Oh, he’s handsome. I’d forgotten how handsome he is. Objectively so, of course. I’ve never felt anything for Paul other than sisterly love. He makes it simple. He’s easy to get along with, especially compared to Annie’s previous boyfriends, smug artistic types who only wanted to debate dead male artists. Paul remains a breath of fresh air. It helps that he’s crazy about her too.

“Has he been working out?” I murmur as we pull up beside him.

“Don’t say anything. He’s becoming the kind of person who thinks an interesting conversation is how many pushups he’s done.”

I gaze at the broad shoulders under his T-shirt. “Is the answer a million?”

Annie whacks my knee as he sticks his head through the car window to kiss her. “What did I tell you about picking up hitchhikers?” he says jokingly as his eyes flick to me. “Hiya, Sarah. Join the mile-high club?”

“I watched a documentary about sea lions and fell asleep.”

“Thrilling.”

“Get in,” Annie says, unlocking the back door.

“And here I thought I was going to have to walk a whole five minutes,” he grumbles good-naturedly as we take off again. “I see you haven’t crashed the car yet,” he adds and I laugh as Annie glares at him.

“Sarah bought tourist crap,” she says by way of retaliation.

“I supported the local economy,” I correct, seeing Paul’s faux disappointment.

“It’s not a leprechaun hat, is it?”

“There were these lovely shamrock earrings…”

“You know those things are made in China?”

“I don’t care! I’m on vacation. And I… Oh wow.”

For the second time in two minutes I’m speechless, although this time it’s more out of awe. My mouth drops open as the hotel comes into view over the crest of the hill. “Annie?”

“Don’t,” Annie mutters. She’s almost blushing. “I know.”

“Not this again,” Paul says. “It’s not that big.”

“It’s huge,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”

I lean forward to get a better look. It’s not that the pictures didn’t do it justice, but things are supposed to be more disappointing in real life. This place looks straight out of a storybook. The elegant brick façade at the front, covered in red and green vine leaves. The large windows, glinting in the sunshine, and the thick white columns by the entrance. It’s like a building frozen in time.

“It must take a fortune to run this place,” I say as we park by the other cars around the side.

Paul takes out our luggage as Annie stretches. “I’d wager ninety percent of the village has worked here at some point,” he says as we make our way up the large, stone steps. “It’s almost a rite of passage. My brother and I used to work in the bar. Mam was front of house back in the day.”

“So it runs in the family.”

“The help side of it, yes. It’s not exactly Downton Abbey but I saved up enough to get started in life. I owe this place a lot.”

“He’s obsessed with the storytelling,” Annie says. “I told him it doesn’t matter to me where the ceremony is, but he can’t wait to tell the grandkids about how we got married where he grew up.”

“It’s important,” Paul insists. “This is where I got my first paycheck.”

“And where you lost your virginity,” Annie says tartly. “Are you going to tell Sarah about that too?”

“Please do,” I say as Paul’s smile drops.

“He was seventeen,” Annie says in a stage whisper, linking her elbow with mine. “And she was twenty.”

I gasp. “An older woman?”

“I’m not listening to either of you,” Paul says.

“Did she seduce you on the stairwell?” I ask as we head through the door. “Or was it by the fountain?”

“She was a guest at the hotel and it lasted two minutes.”

He ignores us as we burst out laughing, but his mood doesn’t last long. The way he keeps looking at Annie as if he can’t believe she’s here with him, makes me think she isn’t exaggerating about how much this place means to him.

The lobby is grand, most of it taken up with a large, carpeted staircase. Lavish paintings of who I guess to be the original owners take up the walls, along with landscape drawings of the village and grounds. The place looks almost untouched if it weren’t for the new computers at the desk and the reams of tourist brochures next to them.

“I’m showing Sarah the ballroom,” Annie announces, like a child wanting to show off her new toy. “Paul, can you check her in?”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer as she grabs my arm and tows me across the lobby, down a wide hallway to a large, echoing room with views over the gardens.

“Okay,” I say, gazing at the gilded ceilings. “So this is not terrible.”

“Mom says it’s like a palace.” She spins gracefully in the middle of the room, her arms held aloft. “We’re having the wedding dinner in here.”

“How are your folks feeling?”

“I think they’re more nervous than me. Dad especially. But he’s enjoying the trip. Paul’s brother Declan set up a tour of the coast for them. All the beauty spots.”

I gaze up at the chandelier overhead. “And how are you affording all of this?”

“Savings mostly.”

I am immediately skeptical. Neither of them has this much money to splurge, especially after living in London. With a move back to New York in a few short months’ I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re broke by Christmas. But I don’t push it. Annie’s gone oddly quiet in the last minute, disappearing into one of her moods.

“Soraya wants to do a video call,” I say as she drifts over to the windows. “Every night by the sounds of it. And FYI she’s fully planning on asking you to live-stream the ceremony.” I’m the only one from our New York friend group making the trip to the wedding; the others weren’t able to get out of work. Maybe that’s one upside to not getting the promotion.

“I think she went a little over the top with her gifts,” I continue when Annie doesn’t answer. “So at least there’s that.” Silence. “Annie?”

“I need you to do me a favor tonight,” she says, turning to face me.

I hesitate. “A ‘do my hair for me’ favor or ‘help me hide a body’ favor?”

“I need you to help Paul’s family fall in love with me.”

Oh boy. “Unless weddings are very different over here, I’m pretty sure you only need Paul to be in love with you.”

“I’m serious,” she groans. “I’ve only met a few of them before and they’re coming from all over the country. I feel like I’m completely outnumbered.”

“Outnumbered? It’s a dinner not a battlefield.”

“I know that,” she says, her voice climbing higher. “But first impressions are important and—”

“Okay,” I say quickly, grasping her hands. “Okay. I will impress. I am great at impressing.” I’d laugh at her if she didn’t look so panicked. “This is supposed to be fun!”

“I know. And it is. It’s just…” She blows out a breath, gazing around the room that a few seconds ago had brought her so much joy. “A lot.”

“I get that. And it’s stressful meeting people. It’s stressful getting married. But the organizing is done. The booking and the decisions and the headaches are done. This is the happiest day… hell, week of your life and you, Annie Dunmore, are going to enjoy it. I’m going to make you enjoy it.”

She sighs, unsure. “Why does that sound like a threat?”

“Because it is.”

But even as she smiles, I know I mean it. I am the maid of honor after all. I have to make sure she has a good time.

I have to make sure nothing goes wrong.