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“Not really. It would’ve been unconventional, I’ll give you that, but not inappropriate. And I get that you probably weren’t attracted to me back then. I was just a kid, but I know you’re attracted to me now, Yvonne. Admittedly, I haven’t always been great at reading the signs, but I can read yours. You’re holding back because for some illogical reason you think being with me would be selfish, but I want you to be selfish. You deserve to be.”
What he said caused my throat to thicken with emotion. He’d struck a nerve and I didn’t want to go any further down that road. I’d allowed myself to be selfish once in my life, when I left Dublin to come to New York. I’d never truly gotten over my guilt about that, even if I did send money home and visit every chance I could. Emigrating was my one selfish thing. I couldn’t afford another.
“I’m a complicated person,” I said finally, trying to steer the conversation back around. “Besides, wouldn’t it bother you if I wanted you now that you’re older and successful when I hadn’t wanted you before?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I might not know you as well as I’d like to, Yvonne, but I do know one thing about you. You aren’t shallow or materialistic. If you were you’d be jumping at the chance to go out with me. In fact, if I’d turned up after all these years earning minimum wage you’d still treat me the same. So just to be clear, no, it wouldn’t bother me. Not in the slightest.”
His statement made my chest feel heavy because he was right. I would treat him the same. It wasn’t that I was particularly virtuous, it was merely that I hadn’t grown up with wealth so I didn’t really expect it in life. I cared about money because I needed it to pay my bills, but I could pay my own way. I didn’t go after rich men. Every single one of my past boyfriends had worked completely average, normal jobs.
I cleared my throat. “Even so, you don’t need someone like me, Conor. You need someone like, like…” I paused, glancing across to a table of attractive twenty-somethings enjoying a girls night out. “Someone like one of them.”
Conor’s eyes briefly flicked in the direction of the women before he quickly brought his attention back to me. “I don’t want someone like them. I want someone like you. No, not someone like you, just you, Yvonne. From the very first time you smiled at me I was gone for you and you didn’t even know it.”
“Conor, please—”
“Just listen. I get it. You say you don’t want this. I’m not a dickhead. I won’t push, but I would like to be friends. I enjoy your company and I’d hate for us not to see each other more.”
“Friendship might not be the best idea,” I said warily and Conor clutched his chest like I’d wounded him.
“Fuck, that’s cold Yvonne. You don’t even want to be friends?” He was going for playful but I could tell I’d hurt him, which was why I relented.
“Okay, no need to be so dramatic,” I chided. “We can try being friends. I suppose we’ll have to if things work out with Ev and Dylan.”
“An obligatory friendship. Just what I was hoping for,” he deadpanned.
I fought a smile. How did he manage to remain so charming when I was rejecting him like this? I hated myself so much for making him feel bad but I was honestly doing him a favour in the long run. Unable to help myself, I softly touched his shoulder. “It’s for the best. You’re going to meet the love of your life one of these days and then you’ll be glad you didn’t waste your time with the wrong person.”
His eyes found mine, something in his expression told me he wanted to disagree but he kept it to himself. “Maybe,” he said, lifting his pint and taking a small sip. A dozen thoughts flickered behind his eyes, none of which I could read.
I watched his profile as he studied the expensive bottles of liquor and champagne that we kept on the upper shelves above the bar. “I suppose you have a lot of contacts for procuring expensive alcohol running a place like this,” he said.
“I have a few,” I replied.
“I’ve been trying to find a particular bottle of champagne as a Christmas gift for my parents. It’s an expensive bottle that they tasted once while on their honeymoon back in the eighties. Mam always goes on about how it’s the best drink she ever had. They’re coming to visit next month but I haven’t been able to get my hands on it, unfortunately,” he went on. “You think you could help?”
“Of course, just write down the name and year and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll text it to you,” Conor said just as a popular dance song came on and the women at the table I’d motioned to earlier started squealing and jumping up from their seats.
“Must be one of their favourites,” I said with a smile.
“Must be,” he said but he wasn’t looking at the women. He was staring directly at me.
His eyes held mine, so full of longing I could barely stand it. Rubbing my chin, I focused my attention on the shelves he’d just been studying. “Are you looking forward to seeing your family for Christmas?”
He swallowed thickly, then nodded. “Yes. I haven’t seen them in almost a year. Dylan’s dad and his new girlfriend are coming, too. They’re going to stay in the townhouse. It’ll be nice to have everyone there.”
“That sounds lovely. Ev and I will probably just hang out in the apartment eating cheese boards and watching television.”
“That’s sounds like a pretty decent plan, too,” Conor said just as Kylie appeared over my shoulder.
“Yvonne, Simon York is on the phone about that whiskey order,” she said and I nodded.
“Thanks. Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” I swallowed back the last of my wine and rose from the stool, turning to Conor. “I’m sorry. I have to get back to work.”
“No rest for the wicked,” he said, something sad in his expression that gave me a pang in my chest. He was putting on a brave face. I knew it had to sting to put yourself out there like Conor had tonight and get knocked back. This was probably why I drew him into a brief hug. His hand lingered on my hip as I pulled away.
“Don’t forget to text me the name of that champagne and I’ll see if I can find a bottle.”
