Page 51 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin

Logan. Breaker of my heart and slayer of my confidence. The cause of sleepless nights and buckets full of tears. The cause of my insecurity. The cause of my low self-esteem. I picture that younger me, sauntering past those white college gates in Inchicore, still wearing my Red Riding Hood cape. And him, leg bent up against the gate, calling over to me in his brown leather jacket and hip-hugging jeans.

My legs turn to jelly and my mouth goes as dry as chipboard. My pulse rockets. I look away quickly, turn sideways. I can’t see a woman beside him. I try to remember to breathe. I try to remember that Donal is by my side. I look around.

‘Table!’ I say over my shoulder to Donal, pointing to it. And we squeeze through the curling bar queue towards a tall, round, vacant table in the reserved corner. I glance back. Logan hasn’t clocked me. He is deep in conversation with Gareth, his dad. I chance another glance as I reach the table, and he’s now holding court with Gareth and another man. He hasn’t changed. He has the same tousled blond hair, thick and healthy, and a deep tan. He’s wearing a light-blue dress shirt with the top buttons wide open, and black jeans, holding a glass filled with red wine, and even from his profile, I see that cheeky smirk.

It’s like déjà vu.

‘Any sign?’ Donal folds himself onto the chair beside me.

‘He’s at the bar.’

‘I meant of Mia.’ He looks at me with what I think are sympathetic eyes, then casts them around the busy bar.

Embarrassed, I do the same. ‘Let me see.’ I can see the gold-lettered individual helium balloons Mia told me she’d bought, which spell out DIVORCEE. ‘Can’t spot her.’ I shove my hands under the table so he can’t see that they are shaking.

‘I’m really looking forward to meeting her. You can tell a lot about a person by their friends, don’t you think? Although, my pal Bernard is “an acquired taste”, as my sister puts it, along with “his ass must get jealous at the amount of shit that comes out of his mouth”, but he makes me laugh. He’s a decent skin is Bernard. He’d give you his last penny.’

I know Donal is trying to distract me to keep me sane.

‘Let’s just grab a drink and we’ll go and find her,’ he says, but I’m barely listening. Like a meerkat, I’m up on my wedges, searching for a server working this reserved area. I don’t want to have to go to the bar. Yet. Because Logan is still right by it. I want to watch him for a while. I need to settle. I want to share the same space with him, but hidden, for a while before we speak. I feel acutely alive, but somehow absolutely disgusted with myself at the same time. What is going on?

‘Donal, why do I feel .?.?.?’ I turn to him.

‘Grace! Hello, my wee darling! It’s a long time no see.’ Trish, Logan and Mia’s mother, in a beautiful pink and purple floaty dress, steps in, champagne flute in hand.

‘Trish. Hi,’ I say quickly and we have a warm hug. ‘How are you?’ My heart’s pumping like I’ve just done a 20k. It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience just knowing we are in the same room. My dress feels too tight.

‘All good, dear. I’m always saying to Mia, bring Grace aroundfor Sunday dinner.’ Trish pinches my cheek gently, wobbling my skin in between her finger and thumb, makes a sad face. ‘We miss you, dear.’ Her eyes are warm and I know she means well. Logan’s parents were always very affectionate to me.

‘I miss your cooking, Trish,’ I say truthfully.

I can see nostalgia creep across her face. ‘I still do my prime-rib roast beef and goose-fat potatoes with all the trimmings every Sunday. I remember how much you loved my sage-and-onion stuffing, dear. You’re always welcome anytime.’

‘Oh, Trish, this is Donal.’ I point to Donal, who stands up, the table wobbling as his knees catch it underneath. He towers over Trish. Unable to help myself, I glance in Logan’s direction again, and now I see he’s staring over at me.

Our eyes meet for a split second, but enough for me to see his light up. His shoulders arch. I shift my eyeline rapidly.

‘It’s really nice to meet you, Trish,’ I hear Donal saying as I whip my head back.

‘A divorce party,’ she says. ‘Have you ever heard the like? Now, where on earth is this cake?’ She’s looking at the illuminated clock on the phone in her other hand.

I rummage in my silver bag because, from the corner of my eye, I see Logan is making his way across the floor.

Towards me.

I have heart palpitations.

My stomach is beyond queasy. It’s rolling like aeroplane turbulence.

KEEP CALM.

KEEP CALM.

KEEP CALM.

I perform a silent rallying mantra in my brain. I’m literally coaxing saliva back into my desert-like mouth. He’s only a few steps away.

I drag my phone out, stare at it as though I just missed acall or something. I look up and am relieved to see someone has stopped Logan to chat.