Page 30 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin

‘I can think of nothing I’d like more, sounds perfect, thank you. I do have the Kearney sisters coming for final checks and collections day after tomorrow, so I’ve a busy day tomorrow getting ready for them, can’t be up too late.’ I give her a two-fingered salute as Charlie starts barking, his little paws flailing as he plod-plods to the open window, stands up on his back legs, his front paws perched on the thin ledge.

‘Let me just let him out to wee.’ She takes him by the collar.

I exhale a breath. One way or another, I’m going to find out if my and Logan’s relationship is still viable. After all this time waiting, I’m going to finally have my answer.

Mia returns, scoops up a generous helping of hummus on a dipped breadstick, takes a bite, flops down next to me. I’m happy to see her enjoying food.

‘Now you can finish telling me all about this Donal fella.’

‘Sure,’ I say.

‘Mmm.’ She shuts her eyes for a second. ‘Homemade hummus is so much nicer. I think it’s all the extra fresh lemon juice I use.’

‘Everything you make is delicious. You’re delicious!’ I press my fingers to my lips and blow her a kiss. She blows one back. Her one is high, it flutters and I raise my hand to catch it.

I lift a tortilla chip, dip it deep into the green pesto and balance a misshapen jalapeño on top. Then I settle back against the feather-filled cushions.

‘Well?’ She eyeballs me.

‘Well .?.?. Donal is confusingly lovely,’ I finally admit to both Mia and myself with a wide grin.

Chapter Sixteen

Just as I put the last hem stitch into Kathleen Kearney’s tiny, sublime, gold bridesmaid dress, my buzzer sounds.

‘Who the hell?’ I mutter, draping the dress over the chair. I head down to open the door and reef it back halfway.

‘Donal!’ My hand flies to my forehead to shield my eyes from the dipping sun. I’m genuinely so happy to see his face. In fact, I’m shocked at how happy I am. His hair is tucked into a well-faded black T-shirt, and he has on khaki shorts and his workman’s boots; there are splodges of dried dirt on his legs and hands.

He waves a yellow A4 page at me. ‘Hey, Grace. Look, hope it’s okay to drop this in, it’s a form for the council for you to be allocated a parking space in the lane. I just happened to be working with a guy this afternoon who deals with it, and I immediately thought of you.’

‘No way?’ I gasp, tugging the door with all my might, pulling it open wide.

He takes a large step back, his hand outstretched as though he’s in a hurry. ‘You need to fill in your PPS, company number and some more stuff, but I think you should be in with a shot.’

‘That’s so kind of you,’ I say as I lean across and take the yellow piece of paper and he starts to move away. ‘Come up for a coffee?’

He stops. His eyes widen. He takes a step back towards me. ‘If you’re sure? I-I was honestly just going to slip it in yourletterbox, but then I thought you might just think it was junk mail and bin it. I don’t want to intrude.’ He looks at the ground for a moment too long like he’s hoping I’m not annoyed.

‘Are you kidding me? I’m delighted to see you! Absolutely, please come in but don’t mind the state of the flat.’ I’m aware I’m scruffy in Logan’s just-below-the-knee faded Rolling Stones T-shirt and my pink Crocs. My hair, although still unruly, is at least freshly washed, air-dried and scooped up into a top knot. I’ve a measuring tape around my neck, various safety pins and threads stuck to the T-shirt.

‘Right, so.’ Donal steps in and I shut the door behind us. He follows me up the rickety stairs as I try to clean myself off.

‘Will I take off my boots?’ he asks when we get inside, and I shake my head. He lowers himself onto my couch, it’s oddly reassuring.

‘No, it’s grand. Coffee? Or I do have those craft beers I suggested the night you brought my Chinese?’ I push open the rooftop door to let some air in, settle the wooden footstool in the gap.

His eyes fill with what looks like relief. ‘Well, it is a Saturday.’ He grins and once again, I see those perfect white teeth.

I remove the measuring tape, pull more loose threads from my top, and roll up spools of thread from the table. ‘I was about to heat up a beef stroganoff, if you’re hungry?’

‘Me? I’m always hungry.’ He opens his long arms and rests them on either side of the couch. He takes up so much space.

‘Great. Although it’s kinda small, it’s a one-person meal deal.’ I grit my teeth.

‘I find it hard to cook beef for one, too,’ he says.

‘Oh, it’s frozen. I don’t cook beef at all, and every time I eat it I think about Logan,’ I suddenly say, and I’m not sure why. I hold his eye to see his reaction.