My vibrator. Which I had been using earlier to little effect. And which I’d obviously reached for in the throes of the dream. Disgusted, I threw it across the room, where it continued to buzz mockingly.
A week later
Dublin airport
‘Kitty Cat, I’m going to miss you.’
‘Don’t get all emotional on me or I’ll start crying, too, and you know how it makes my face puff up as if I have some kind of contagious disease.’ I looked around at the other passengers filing into the security line and hissed sotto voce, ‘And stop calling me Kitty Cat. I’m twenty-three now.’
Mary, my older sister by five years, rolled her eyes, ‘Fine. Caitlin Ryan, I’m going to miss you.’
I gave her an approving look and bit back a smile. ‘That’s better.’
We were both just expelling hot air, avoiding the elephant standing beside us. Johnny. So I took a deep breath and voiced my fears. ‘What if I find him and he doesn’t want to talk to me?’
My sister went pale and I wanted to throttle my brother all over again. She didn’t deserve this. Not after everything we’d been through since our parents had died ten years ago and she’d become our parent overnight.
‘He would be ecstatic to see you. He’s just making it harder for himself now by leaving it so long...’
Johnny, almost four years my senior, had left for New York a couple of years ago after a huge row with Mary. Since then we’d only known he was okay from the deliberately timed middle-of-the-night messages left on the answering machine. Short and curt: I’m fine. I’m safe and working, don’t worry about me.
Mary took my shoulders in her hands then and looked at me sternly. ‘Don’t worry about Johnny, he can take care of himself. This is your time, Caitie. Don’t think I don’t know how much responsibility you felt to keep the peace between me and Johnny. You’ve just graduated with a first-class-honours degree, you need to blow off some steam and have fun...’
When I’d taken my seat on the plane a couple of hours later, Mary’s words came back to me. Blow off steam...have fun. I’d been a student for the last four years, so I knew all about blowing off steam and having fun. Within reason, of course.
But...Mary had hit a nerve. I’d never really...let go completely. I’d never had one tiny rebellious moment. Never been really crazy. One rebel in the family had been enough and Johnny had filled that role to perfection.
My most debauched night out had ended with me waking up sandwiched between two male friends from college, on a small double bed.
For a heart-stopping moment that had definitely veered more to the excited end of the scale than disgusted, I’d wondered if we’d had a threesome. But just as I was realizing that I was still far too dressed for sex to have been part of the equation, one of them had woken up and said blearily, ‘You weren’t too well after all those cocktails last night, so we brought you home with us in case someone took advantage of you in your inebriated state.’
Instead of feeling relieved to have such caring friends, I’d felt slightly miffed that I’d failed to inspire in them the desire to even think about taking advantage of me. Not that I would ever condone such irresponsible behaviour, of course, or that I even particularly wanted a threesome...but the thought of two guys ravenous for me was a surprisingly persistent fantasy for a while...
The fact that the two guys in question came out as a couple in our final year was little consolation.
I sighed deeply and put the memory out of my head and watched the green, rain-soaked land of Ireland fall away beneath the plane. A sense of optimism and excitement made my belly clench at the prospect of New York’s endless possibilities. Mary was right. I was more than ready for fun, freedom and adventure. And more than ready to turn that irritating recurring dream into a reality...with a far more satisfying ending.
* * *
Liam Sullivan was in a dangerous mood. He’d just had another frustrating argument with his old man and had left him sitting in a sea of empty beer and whiskey bottles. He unconsciously rode his bike even harder, coming to a screeching halt when the lights ahead turned red.
He needed to calm down before he did something stupid. Like cause an accident. This was his father’s modus operandi—fall off the wagon, go back on the wagon. Like clockwork. Two months on, one month off. Liam reassured himself that his father’s neighbour had promised to keep an eye on him. Dusk was falling over Manhattan and the late-summer air was muggy, heavy.
He was almost home but was loath to go back to his apartment over the bar right now. He had given himself a rare night off and wasn’t in the mood to see anyone he knew.
The lights went green and he let the bike roar underneath him again, relishing the power surge between his legs, wishing perversely that he could just keep going, right through the Lincoln Tunnel and out of this state altogether. All the way down to Mexico. But of course he couldn’t.
What did appeal right now was the thought of losing himself in a woman. A no-strings hookup. His speciality. No way was he ready to look for a “long-term partner” like his oldest buddy, Mike, who was settled out in trendified Brooklyn, walking around with a baby plastered to his front in a sling and a big sappy grin on his face, giving Liam the heebie-jeebies.
Liam was twenty-nine. He had eons before he had to think about all of that, and even then...he shuddered lightly. He wouldn’t. Flashes of his own fractured family threatened to put a downer on his mood again.
Just then he spotted a bar out of the corner of his eye and following the gut instinct to find some kind of distraction to dark thoughts, he found himself crossing three lanes of traffic to a parking spot.
* * *
‘Mary, everything worked out great, I got the keys to the apartment, I’m reviving Aunt June’s plants and she’s bent over like a pretzel at the ashram—it’s all good.’
Suddenly I spotted a bar that looked friendly and trendy. I was not the kind of person who relished drinking alone, but at that moment I fancied sitting at a bar savouring my arrival in New York, enjoying my independence and contemplating the untold adventures that lay ahead of me. I’d been looking for jobs all week since I’d arrived, with no luck, yet.
I cut my sister off midflow, ‘Gotta go, sis, I’ve just spotted a guy in a balaclava with a gun, I’m going to ask him what he’s doing. Talk later!’
I left her sputtering and cut off the connection. It never got old, freaking Mary out. Chuckling to myself, I tucked my phone into my back jeans pocket and walked into the bar. It was dimly lit, achingly hip. Funky electronic music. Along with a very cool-looking crowd. After all, this was the Lower East Side where hipsters prevailed.
I saw an empty stool at the bar, and as nonchalantly as I could, walked over and slid onto it. The bartender was there right away, ‘What can I get you, miss?’
Flustered, I thought quickly, ‘A beer. Please.’
He was back in seconds. ‘That’ll be five dollars.’
‘Thanks.’ I gave him the five dollars and he was already taking another order.
I took a long sip of the refreshing cold beer and put the bottle back down. I was aware of people on either side of me and snuck a look to my right. A girl had her back to me, talking to someone else. And then I heard a voice from my left.
‘You should leave a dollar down as a tip.’
Instantly, for no reason, I prickled at the slightly censorious tone. And then another part of me registered how deep the voice was and prickled with awareness.
Slowly, I looked to my left and blinked. Holy. Mother. Of God. Heat slammed into my gut. The guy sitting right beside me was ridiculously, crazily gorgeous.
Dark blond