Page 21 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin

‘Well, honestly, lack of clients. I’ve no premises. No parking facilities. You saw where I live, it’s not ideal – and there are so many brilliant bridal designers with beautiful stores, with parking. Plus, I was so busy working trying to do this part-time while supporting Logan, I let it all slip away from me.’

He leans in closer, a genuine interest in his eyes. ‘But you will get the business up and running, I know you will. There is always a solution. Can your clients not use the side lane for parking beside your flat? Can you not ask the council? It is a business, after all. They are there to support local businesses in any way they can.’

I smooth my hair back, thinking. ‘Really? I didn’t know I could ask that. It would help so much.’

He nods intently. ‘Yeah, you can. And I’m happy to help in any way I can, I’m pretty handy at business stuff, though I’msure you are more than capable.’

I smile. ‘Thank you. I was going to pack it all in years ago, Logan kind of killed and saved the business at the same time.’

‘But it’s your business, you are the one who can save it now.’

‘Yeah. You’re right,’ I tell him, then fill him in on my designer ambitions.

Donal’s such a gracious listener, such lovely company and so easy to talk to. I find myself adjusting the top off my shoulders to expose more bare skin, then I lean back in the chair as our food arrives.

Why did I just do that?

Do I fancy him, after all?

Chapter Eleven

You do not fancy him, I tell myself. It’s just refreshing to be with a man who’s happy to conduct a two-way conversation. Logan was all ‘me, me, me’. Typical actor, with his insecurity.

‘So, tell me more about you, ’cause I need to stop talking!’ I say, wrapping my arms around myself. ‘I ramble when I get nervous. I most definitely overtalked in Fallon & Byrne the other day, I—’

‘Me too.’ Donal cuts me off for the first time ever. ‘But please don’t be nervous.’ He makes me remember what a terrible interrupter Logan was, constantly butting in when I was in the middle of a sentence, it was one of his major flaws. His inability to listen and his constant interrupting.

‘Oh no, I’m perfectly fine now, I settled as soon as we spoke,’ I confess warmly.

‘My balls settled you?’ He leans across, twists the Claddagh ring on his finger and makes a quizzical face.

‘Indeed they did.’ Again I laugh easily because he’s completely without any creepy sexual innuendo and it’s just pure childish fun, which I love. ‘I assumed you’d ordermeatballs.’

‘Damn!’ He clicks his fingers, the same as in Fallon & Byrne, and his snap is loud.

‘I’ve a creamy chicken pasta?’ Olivia appears, diverting my thoughts as she looks down at the dish in her left hand.

‘Me, please.’ I raise my glass unnecessarily as she places thewhite bowl carefully in front of me.

‘And the chicken wings for you?’

I sit back as she settles the large plate of wings in front of Donal, two celery sticks protruding like rabbits’ ears and a finger bowl of warm water and segments of lemon. I’d have loved to have ordered the wings because this place is famous for them, and I know it’s silly but I’d feel very self-conscious gnawing away at the messy bones with saucy fingers while making conversation. So far, Donal’s been engaging and sweet. Logan is definitely not ‘sweet’, so it’s an adjustment to find out who I am with this type of person. With Logan, I was constantly reassuring him. There was so little time for me to actually enjoy or be intrigued by a conversation, I suddenly realise.

‘So what is it you do for a living? I know you mentioned another job?’ I flatten my napkin on my jeans and pick up my fork, spear a piece of soft chicken, hold it aloft.

‘Hmm?’ His long hair falls over his face once more and strands of it dip into the sauce of his chicken wings. ‘Oh. Shit.’ He jerks upwards and the hair flicks up, spattering hot, red sauce onto his forehead. He looks at me, wild-eyed.

‘You’ve .?.?.’ I feebly raise a finger.

‘You’ve just realised “you never order chicken wings on a first date, Donal,” is that what you were going to say?’ He facepalms, dipping his chin down.

He’s called it a first date again. ‘No .?.?. no. I—’ I stop mid-sentence. I’m too embarrassed to tell him he’s got sauce on his forehead, because he’s already embarrassed enough. This is ridiculous.

‘What do I do here?’ He gestures to the massive pile of wings, hunched over them.

‘Just go for it!’ I laugh. ‘It’s fine, work away.’ I pop a piece of soft, flavoursome creamy chicken in my mouth.

‘Not very sexy—’ He stops. ‘I – I mean, I’m not saying I amsexy .?.?. obviously.’ He extends his hands out wide and flaps them up and down both sides of his body like a man-bird.