Page 47 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin

‘Balls. Never judge a book, Donal. It’s my fucking motto; it’s how I live my life, and I just failed at it horribly,’ he says, mightily unimpressed with himself I can see, as he rarely swears.

‘We both did,’ I admit, feeling embarrassed also.

He makes his claw, pulls his hair back. ‘I hate that I did that.’

He’s still berating himself as our food arrives in front of us. I pick up the bottle of soy sauce, dollop a load on top of my thick noodles, pick up my chopsticks and mix the chicken and prawns and steamed broccoli.

Donal adds his extra fresh chillies. It’s all so familiar. It’s all so relaxing.

‘Let’s focus on you now. You want Logan back. That’s what you want, right?’ Donal says his name again but now it sounds so strange on his lips.

I balance a prawn between the slim black sticks. ‘You think I’m an idiot?’

He holds my eye across the table. ‘No. But tell me this? This I am curious about. How does the future look to you?’ He asks the million-dollar question that I don’t have the answer to.

‘I’m still working that bit out. I was just waiting for him to come back .?.?. to talk .?.?. and now he’s back.’

Donal holds my eye. ‘But he’s back for his sister’s party, right?’

‘Well, Mia said he was back for an audition, actually. She only found out after she posted the invites.’ I mix my food around some more, inhaling the toasty, smoky smell from the noodles being stir-fried in a hot wok.

Donal nods. ‘So this is his first time back in Dublin since he left you on your wedding day?’

It’s the first time I’ve thought about that. ‘I dunno,’ I admit. I absolutely need to ask Mia that later.

Donal uses the fork to mix his food. ‘Does he still try to contact you?’

Again, I push my noodles around my plate with the chopsticks. ‘He knows I don’t want a phone interaction.’

A thin slice of beef dangles from his fork now. ‘But he could have emailed or sent a letter?’ He pops it in his mouth, chews as he waits for my answer.

I lift the sticks to my mouth, slide a prawn in but I find it hard to chew, so I nod.

‘I’m not judging you, Grace, at all .?.?. I just think you deserve better than a guy who can walk out on you the way he did.’ Donal sits back, rolling his shoulders.

‘You don’t know me. You don’t know him.’ I feel the anger rising and the prawn gets stuck in my throat. I lift my beer and take a drink, swallow it down.

Donal sits forward again, lifts his own beer. ‘Okay .?.?.’ He nods slowly. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ I say.

‘It’s not, I’ve upset you,’ he says quietly.

‘Let’s just drop it,’ I say, because it’s all hitting home and I’m feeling slightly unsure.

‘Right you are.’ Donal adds more fresh chillies as I search out some chicken, thankful for the excuse to think and chew.

‘You can’t help who you fall in love with.’ I spray my fingers wide across my mouth, covering it as I swallow the magnificent, flavoursome ginger and pickle, which serenade my tastebuds.

Donal starts to cough. He holds his neck.Is he choking?I think for a second then I jump up.

‘Chillis!’ he croaks, and I hand him his beer by the handle and sit back into the bench. He composes himself, wipes his brow with a napkin. He looks at me, runs his hand down his beardwith his free hand, cradling his pint in the other. Then he drinks, froth lingering on his beard above his top lip, his eyes curious, a wrinkled brow.

He’s so lovely.

‘I really like you, Donal. I’m so glad you’re with me tonight,’ I tell him truthfully, and it’s just straight from my heart.

He puts down his beer. ‘You do?’ A mini grin starts slowly at the corners of his mouth, then spreads widely, totally lighting up his face and showing those perfectly straight white teeth of his. Leaning back in his chair, he hooks his hands behind his head.