One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

33

She looks different than she does in the photos. Different from the embellished image I have of her in my mind. She’s older now, her hair shorter and pulled back into a thin ponytail. Her skin is pale and fair, her navy vest revealing the hint of sunburn around her shoulders.

Neither of us does anything for a long moment but before my brain can catch up with my terrible decision, she adjusts a large tote bag over her shoulder and speaks. “You must be Sarah. My name’s Fiona. I’m a friend of Declan’s.”

“I know who you are.” I wince inwardly as soon as I say it, the words coming out more clipped than I would have liked. I don’t know how this is going to play out, but I don’t want to be the reason for a fight. “He’s not here,” I say, trying to sound friendlier. “He just left.”

Frustration flashes across her face, vanishing as quickly as it came.

“I should have called,” she says. “Can I leave something for him?”

“Of course.” And then, to her surprise and my horror, I stand back, the universal sign of please, come on in. I realize as soon as I do that she was just going to hand me something. She’s already rooting in her bag but she pauses now, her eyes flicking behind me.

Man, I wish I hadn’t opened the door.

“Thanks,” she says and, with her face carefully blank, steps past me into the apartment.

A waft of lavender follows as I close the door and watch her take in the room. It’s obvious she hasn’t been here before but that doesn’t make me feel any better. Not now that I can see her properly. She’s tall and lanky, with long legs and a flat stomach. She wears no makeup other than a faint red sheen of lipstick, that looks as if she hurriedly swiped it across her lips. A last-minute effort she doesn’t even need.

She looks like one of those stylish women getting a smoothie after their hot yoga session.

She’s beautiful.

Even tired and tense she looks beautiful.

And I’m suddenly aware of how I look next to her. My hair frizzy from lack of product. My clothes creased from yesterday. Thank God I had a shower at least.

I don’t know what to say. Do I ask her if she wants to sit? If she wants a glass of water?

You must be Sarah. Has Declan told her about me? Why?

I grow flustered as Fiona’s gaze turns to the bedroom and the rumpled sheets visible through the open door.

A tense silence falls over us.

“He won’t be long,” I say before she can speak. “You can wait here. I’ll… I can go.”

“You don’t have to.”

But I want to. Should I text him? Does she want me to text him? Does she have his number? “Do you want some coffee?”

“No,” she says. “Thank you but I’ve had three cups this morning.” Her smile is forced and doesn’t reach her eyes. “Could you just tell him I brought the papers?” she asks, drawing out a thick, worn folder from her bag.

The divorce papers.

“I also wrote him a letter. In case he wasn’t here or I chickened out or…” She trails off, her mask faltering.

“Sure,” I say, after a second. “No problem.”

But she doesn’t give it to me, she just looks at me, fiddling with the side of the envelope. “It’s not a letter,” she says suddenly. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s five lines at most. It’s more of a note.”

“Okay.”

“I wrote it on the plane,” she continues as a pink flush spreads across her neck. She doesn’t take her eyes off me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Declan?” I ask, a little desperately.

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, I should go. He’s going to hate me for this. I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea. I’m sorry for troubling you. I didn’t even think you’d…”

I can only watch as she has a minor breakdown in front of me, her movements jerky as she turns to find a place to put the folder down. As she moves, the toe of her sneaker catches on the rug and she stumbles. We both lurch forward as her bag slips down her arm, the contents spilling to the floor.

“Shit. Shit. Sorry.”

I kneel beside her as her breath hitches, passing her a lip balm and a packet of mints.

“I’m such a klutz,” she mutters, sounding like she’s about to burst into tears. “Could I have some water?”

I know it’s just an excuse to get me away from her, but I take it gratefully, rising as she scoops up a paperback novel and digs out her phone from where it skidded under the sofa.

She avoids my eye as she accepts the bottle, draining almost half of it as the blush spreads in patches to her face.

“I’m just tired,” she says and whatever friction there was between us vanishes.

“You should sit.”

“No. I—”

“Just for a minute,” I say, guiding her to the armchair. “It’s hot this morning.”

“This is so stupid.” Her accent swings between American and Irish. “You’re probably thinking who the hell is this girl?”

“I’m not.”

In fact, despite everything, I find myself oddly charmed by her. And somehow, that makes it all worse. So much worse that Declan’s ex-wife isn’t some glamorous bitch who broke his heart and I can childishly hate. She’s real. She’s real and she’s human and she’s sitting right in front of me.

“I should have planned this better,” she continues. “I got an early flight to get here, which is not a good idea, let me tell you. I think I got an hour of sleep.” She takes another gulp of water. “I’m babbling.”

She is. She’s almost hysterical. “I should really let Declan know you’re here.”

“No,” she says, one hand shooting out as if to physically stop me. “No, please don’t. This is better actually. I was enough of an eejit the last time I saw him. I don’t need to do it again.” She attempts another smile. It’s a bad one. “I can’t imagine what he must have said about me.”

I say nothing. I say nothing because he’s told me nothing. Not really. Not yet.

After staring at me for so long, she can’t seem to meet my eye now. Her gaze bounces off the sofa, the coffee table, the wall.

“Can I be honest with you?” she asks. “And I’m only going to say this because I’m semi-delirious right now, but I don’t want you to think I came here in some grand gesture to try and get him back. I wouldn’t do that. Not after he told me about you. It’s just that for the past while now I’ve been thinking about us and about what happened and when he called, I thought he was thinking about me too. It never even occurred to me that he’d met someone.” The flush deepens. “When I realized why he was really there I got so embarrassed and I was just horrible to him. As soon as he left, I felt terrible and I didn’t know what to do, so I had this genius idea of coming here and explaining myself and now I’m…” She gestures down at herself. “A mess. I’m a mess. And you’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“I would. I’m usually very normal. Ask anyone.” She presses her lips together, as though trying to regain control of her words. “Can I use your bathroom?” she asks after a moment.

I gesture wordlessly to the door and she shoots me a grateful look before practically jumping inside it.

Barely five minutes have passed since I heard the first knock.

I can’t believe this is happening.

I can’t believe Fiona is here and that she is beautiful and obviously still in love with Declan and acting like I’m…

Not after he told me about you.

Told her what exactly? That’s he’s sleeping with someone? That he’s spending time with someone?

She knows my name.

Does she know the names of the other women he’s slept with? Sienna and whatever her name was? Did he go to Fiona then too?

Before I get a chance to organize my thoughts the lock scrapes against the door and she emerges, her blush gone, her smile back.

“Great news,” she says when she sees me. “I’ve officially calmed down. I mean, I’ll probably wake at 3 a.m. for the rest of my life thinking about this moment but que sera, sera.” She hesitates. “Okay, the calm thing was a lie.”

Oh my God, she’s goddamn delightful.

She clears her throat. “Do you know if—”

A phone buzzes once from her bag, cutting her off.

“Sorry,” she says, diving for it. “It’s the hospital.”

“The hospital?” I ask faintly.

“Oh, I’m fine. I work there. I’m a pediatrician.”

Of course, she is. Why wouldn’t the tall, beautiful woman also be a highly trained medical professional? A children’s doctor. The most heroic of the doctors.

“It feels like I’m always on call these days,” she mutters, typing something into her phone. “Even when they know I’m not.” When she’s done, she throws it back into her bag, tugging the tote over her shoulder.

We look at each other for a beat.

“I’m going to go,” she says firmly. “I’ve signed everything I need to sign but tell him to get it looked over properly to be sure. I’m sorry for barging in and ruining your morning.”

I nod before I realize what I’m doing. “No, that’s… You didn’t.”

“You’re kind,” she says and an almost pained expression crosses her face. “I get why he… Anyway.”

She leaves the folder on the counter and takes one last look around the apartment. “I see he’s finally gotten out of his art phase.”

“What?”

“You know. All those stupid museum prints.”

I stare at her. I have no idea what she’s talking about. And to my embarrassment, I see the moment she realizes it.

“Right,” she says awkwardly. “Well. I’ll let myself out. I’m sorry again.”

And then she’s gone.

The room is deadly silent without her. I don’t move. I can’t move. My mind is blank, my thoughts are… I force myself to stand, my body light as I stare at the new addition to the counter.

The manila envelope is thick but worn as if she’s taken it in and out of her bag. As if she’s handled it a dozen times. Next to it is a thin sheet of folded paper. I nudge it open, glimpsing her scrawled handwriting before I realize what I’m doing and step back.

Her letter.

She wrote him a letter.

Of course, she did. Why wouldn’t she? No matter what Declan said, the fact remains that they’ve known each other since they were fourteen and I’ve known him for… three months?

Is it only as long as that?

What’s it going to be like if I go any further? What’s it going to be like if I let myself actually…

God, I can still smell her perfume.

I collapse onto the sofa. My little serenity bubble has burst, the happiness I felt not twenty minutes ago replaced by a gnawing anxiety. How the hell do I compete with that? How do I…

My eyes drift to her water bottle on the table and the faint lipstick print she left on it.

And suddenly I know. I know there’s no way this ends with me. It’s like I’ve just become a side character in my own life. The only thing that will happen is that I’ll get my hopes up. My hopes up and my guard down. And even if he doesn’t mean to right now, even if he doesn’t want to hurt me, he will. He’ll go back to her. How could he not? And I’ll be tossed aside. Just like I was with Josh. Just like Dad was with Mom.

I stand so quickly my head spins and yet I’ve never seen anything clearer. I put on my sandals and tie my hair back, not waiting for it to dry. It takes only moments to gather my things and then I grab the envelope and shut the door behind me.

* * *

It takes no time at all to get to O’Shea’s. It’s too early for it to be open. The front doors are locked, the blinds drawn, but the dull thud of a dumpster draws me to the alley where I find a man in a staff T-shirt trussing up trash bags.

“Through there,” he says when I ask him where Declan is and I thank him as he gives me a distracted nod to a side door behind him.

I have one foot inside when he calls out. “You Sarah?”

I look back in surprise and he grins. “Thought so,” he says. “Down the hall and to the left. If he’s not in the office he’ll be in the bar.”

Does everyone know about me? Did he send around a mass email? The twisted feeling in my stomach only increases as I step fully inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. I head down the hallway, squeezing past boxes of the day’s deliveries, past the kitchen and the cleaning closet. I find the office easy enough, a tiny windowless room that barely holds the desk and chair crammed inside. He’s not there.

I keep going, past the restrooms and through the swinging double doors to the main bar area. Declan stands in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips and his chin to his chest as he listens to one of the people gathered around him. Above them, a large dark stain on the ceiling drips down into several buckets.

I take a step back, intending to go wait in the office but a woman has already spotted me and she nudges Declan before I can escape.

He breaks into a wide smile, which only makes me feel worse.

I shake my head as he comes over to me, the group reforming without him. “I can wait.”

“I can’t. What are you doing here?” He kisses me on the lips before I can respond, a quick brush that feels achingly intimate. “Don’t tell me,” he says, grinning. “You wanted to see me in my element, right? The big man in charge?”

I should have waited for him to come back to the apartment. I understand now why he wanted to wait to tell me about Fiona. Why he wanted to know what to say. Because now, standing in front of him, I’ve got nothing.

His smile fades when I don’t answer and he reaches for my hand to squeeze it. “You found the body in the closet, didn’t you?”

Someone calls his name, but he waves them off, not taking his eyes off me. “What is it? What happened?”

“Fiona came by.”

His smile drops altogether. “She what?”

“After you left,” I say to his growing confusion. “I got up and she was… She knocked on the door and I let her in.”

“She came to the apartment?”

“She wanted to give you this.” I draw out the envelope. “For your divorce. And she wrote you a letter.”

“You spoke with her?”

“She wanted to give you this,” I repeat, my voice starting to wobble. “And—”

“Let’s talk about this in the office,” he interrupts, cupping my elbow.

“No.” I plant my feet, glancing at the people at the other side of the room. They’re far enough away that they can’t hear us, but I suddenly need their presence. The threat of an audience will help me through this.

Will help me do this.

I hold out the envelope, trying to get him to take it but he doesn’t move. A wariness creeps into his expression as though he knows exactly why I’m here. That makes one of us.

“What did she say to you?”

“Nothing,” I insist but he’s taking his phone from his pocket.

“She’s unbelievable.”

“Declan, stop it. She didn’t say anything bad. That’s not why she came.”

“You don’t know her like I do. She— Hey!” He looks up in shock as I pluck the phone from his hand. The others glance over at his raised voice and I flush in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” I say, handing it back to him. “But you’re not listening.”

Declan stares at me. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I think you should take a look at these. And read her letter. And maybe you… maybe you should—”

“Should what?” he asks calmly. Too calmly. “What are you saying?”

That your wife is in love with you.

And I think you’re still in love with her.

“Sarah?”

“Just take some time to think about this,” I say, taking a small step back so my heel hits the door. He doesn’t follow. He’s holding himself still like he doesn’t trust himself to move.

“I don’t want any more time,” he says. “I’ve had a lot of time. Now tell me what Fiona said to you.”

“It’s not her.” A lie. “Don’t be mad at her. She didn’t say anything bad about you. This is me.”

“You’re using that line on me right now? Are you serious?”

“I think you just need some time to—”

“Declan?”

“Just hold on,” he yells at the group. “Don’t do this,” he says, turning back to me. His eyes bore into mine with such intensity I can’t look away. “I mean it, Sarah. I’m not chasing after you again.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

He rears back and I panic. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I say hurriedly. “I’m not… I’m not breaking up with you.”

“No,” he says. “That you can’t do. How can you break up with me when you won’t even admit we’re at the start of a relationship?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“You’re going to keep doing this,” he says as my thoughts collapse into each other. “Aren’t you? I’m not him, Sarah. I’m not Josh and I’m not your mother.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because it feels like every chance you get you try and find something to drive us apart. Are you that scared of something serious or do you just not want it with me?”

“She came all this way to—”

“I don’t give a shit what she did. I told you I feel nothing romantically for her, but you’re convinced I’m… what? Secretly in love with her? Using you to get to her?”

“I just—”

“Just what?” He waits as I flounder before him. There’s a burning in my chest that moves to my throat.

“I just want you to be sure that you know what you want.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. The shutters come down as he closes off from me and I wonder once again how I messed this up so badly.

“I know what I want, Sarah,” he says finally. “But I’m not going to wait around for you to figure out what you do.”

He takes the folder from me, shoving it under his arm. “Thanks for dropping this off,” he says. “And I’m sorry again about your job.”

“Declan—”

“I’ve got a whole other disaster to deal with right now, if you can let yourself out.” He doesn’t look back at me as he returns to the now quiet group. “Take care of yourself, Sarah.”

I stare after him until my eyes start to sting and then I turn blindly, pushing open the doors and getting out there as quickly as I can.