Mia’s brother and, once upon a time, my fiancé.
The very mention of his name sets my mind on fire. A conductor begins to choreograph his orchestra in my head. A cacophony of sounds. Big bass, booming drum. The high-pitched note of an electric guitar. The cello echoing. The single note of a violin that goes on and on and on. Mia’s voice drifts further and further away in my earbuds, but still I can make out her telling me that Logan will be back from New York for an audition and will be at her divorce party.
Logan is coming home.
Finally.
Chapter Two
‘Been dreading telling you all day – that’s why I didn’t answer your calls earlier. Scoffed an entire party-size bag of peanut M&M’s on the DART before I rang you back. Didn’t even suck the shells, just bit right in. Like a rainbow conveyer belt into my big gob. Say you’ll still come, though, Grace? Please. I didn’t know he’d be home for an audition when I posted the invitations on Wednesday .?.?. I would have waited. Like I said, I couldn’t have done this without you – finally asked Michael for a divorce.’ I can picture Mia’s blonde curls covering her face as she chews on her thumbnail like she does when she’s nervous. My heart rate keeps time to the bleating sound of the pedestrian crossing.
I’ve been through hellish, humiliating heartache. I can tell you that much.
Catching my reflection in the long glass of Oliver Bonas, I see my mouth is hanging open. I gulp to draw some moisture back into my mouth and my throat muscles contract. I stifle a cough, keep walking. I feel like everyone who passes me knows I’m in shock. The traffic sounds louder in my ears. The seagulls squawk in a deafening pitch above my head.
‘Have you keeled over?’ Mia asks in lieu of anything else to say.
I’m barely able to comprehend this news. ‘No, but I’m spiralling like Will Smith at the Oscars.’ Stopping abruptly outside Fallon & Byrne on Exchequer Street, I put my bags down between the bicycles-to-rent, slapping my hand on my heart totry and slow it down.
‘That’s not great.’ I can hear her teeth are gritted through her muffled words.
I rest my hands on my bare knees now and bend over to try and catch my breath.
But it is great!
Little does Mia know but I’ve been desperately waiting for this day for a year and a half. It’s nineteen months and eleven days since Logan ran out on me on our wedding day in Portofino. Five-hundred and ninety days, to be exact, since he left me in our bougie villa ready to put on my unique lace and silk organza wedding dress, and jumped a flight to New York to follow his dreams and pursue his acting career. Mia’s divorce party will be the day Logan and I come face-to-face again. The fact consumes me entirely. I’m literally weak at the knees.
‘Grace? Speak to me.’ Mia’s apprehensive in my ear.
‘Gimme a sec,’ I croak. With my palms pressed on my knees I push myself up, try to straighten my back, clear my throat. I’ve dreamt about our reunion almost every night since he left me. You see, even though Logan ran out on me in that despicable way, I cannot stop loving him. Logan showed a romantic interest in me when no other guys seemed to. He was everyone’s dream guy in college, and it still blows my insecure mind that he chose me. All I want is him back. I want Logan Hunter back so badly it keeps me awake at night. I loved his passion, his ambition, his drive, I loved how he made me want to be that person, too. He lit a fire in me that no one else ever has. But for Logan, I’d never have had the confidence to be a wedding-dress designer. I was about to quit design college the day I met him but he inspired me, drove me on, told me not to give up. Logan convinced me I was good enough, that I could do it. He believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. He’s still like electricity to me, like a hunger no amount of food will fill. I crave his smell, his touch.The thought of him finding someone else makes my stomach swirl and my head spin, it’s like a form of heartbreak vertigo.
‘Are you hyperventilating?’ Mounting concern frames Mia’s words.
I shut my eyes, try to breathe through my nose. ‘Not quite.’
‘Just take your time, I know it’s a shock.’ Mia exhales loudly in my ear. We never talk about her brother. It’s healthier for our friendship. It’s essential for our friendship.
In fact, and for obvious reasons, I have not admitted my wanting Logan back to a single soul. It’s my dirty little secret. After he left Portofino that day, Logan had sent a load of texts begging my forgiveness. I never replied, but nor did I block him. I didn’t want any communication, bar face-to-face. I just wanted him to come back to me, physically. Soon, the texts stopped and I waited for his key to turn in the door of our flat. I still wait. I wipe the perspiration from the back of my wet neck. And maybe now I will finally hear his key turn again. Oh, Logan has his faults, but underneath his desperate desire to be famous, he’s a good person. He’s just naïve.
Mia’s sweet voice propels me back. ‘Hello? Grace? My love? You still there?’
I wipe my hands down my shorts. ‘Sorry. Just needed that minute – you’re right, I just got a shock, but yeah, of course I’ll be there!’ I’m talking too loudly to cover up the choking sensation I’m still feeling. It’s affecting my voice. I sound like a cartoon character. Leaning far back under the shade of the blue-and-white striped awning I steady myself. ‘With single bells on! Gotta fly, I’m heading to Stillorgan for some exposed gold zippers .?.?. Oh, here’s my bus,’ I lie, hitting the red button to kill the call and stepping out onto the path.
Then I see her.
Ohhhhh, come on! I curl my toes into my flip-flops and clamp my eyes closed so tightly they sting behind my shades.
Speaking of me almost quitting design college. There, crossing the road, is the reason!
Emma Stark.
She is coming directly towards me, her pelvis tilted so far back it looks like she is bending backwards, nose in the air, jutting cheekbones. Her arm raised, with her finger hooked into the crook of a purple-velvet hanger and the glossy ivory dress bag swinging.Emma Stark BridalCoutureemblazoned across it in a dazzling black display font. It still hurts like a carving knife ripping across the skin of my stomach that she stepped into my shoes, even after all these years. She got to live my dream. I could have been the one with the beautiful bridal store on South Anne Street. Not that I’ve ever been brave enough to step foot inside it, but I just know it’s beautiful.
Emma is getting nearer .?.?.
.?.?. nearer .?.?.
.?.?. just a few feet away.