Emmy giggled. “I didn’t say a word.”
“So…it was a rough Saturday?” Kelli asked, trying to figure out how to start the conversation they needed to have. Unfortunately, the pub was quite busy, and it would be tough to pull him aside for a few minutes. She also really didn’t want to talk this out with Emmy there.
That had been another layer to this week’s unending guilt. The fact that Kelli genuinely believed Emmy and Padraig would make a wonderful couple, that she could be the woman to heal her best friend’s shattered heart.
He nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“Rough Friday night too,” Emmy added with a laugh.
Kelli was taken aback. Had Padraig confided what happened to Emmy? “Was it?” she asked, looking at him.
“I blacked out, Kell. I’ve never done that in my life, and I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I don’t remember the end of that party at all. I’m not sure how I let myself go that far.”
Kelli could suddenly hear her pulse thudding in her ears, her heart beating so fast, so hard, so fucking loud.
Emmy and Padraig said something, the two of them laughing, but Kelli couldn’t hear them over her own panic.
He didn’t remember. He didn’t know what they’d done.
“Pour me a pint of Guinness, Paddy, and keep ’em coming.”
Kelli glanced over as Colm claimed the spot next to her. He looked as bad as she felt. His dark hair was mussed, like he’d run his hand through it a hundred times too many, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Plus, he’d gotten a little heavy-handed with the trimmers, his beard shorter than normal, even a bit patchy in places.
He looked like shit.
“You okay?” she asked, despite the fact she was in freak-out mode.
A-fucking-gain.
Padraig didn’t remember having sex with her. What the fuck was she supposed to do now?
Colm shrugged. His response little more than a grunt. “Yeah.”
“Still not returning your calls?” Padraig asked, as Kelli forced herself to listen to their conversation, needing the distraction.
“Who?” she asked.
“Brooke.” Colm didn’t bother to elaborate.
“Apparently, she and my brother here had one hell of an after-party the night of Halloween.” Padraig looked ready to continue the tale, but someone at a nearby table called his name, asking for another round. “I’ll be right back.”
“Do you mind watching my laptop real quick?” Emmy asked, excusing herself to go to the ladies’ room.
Kelli waved her assent. “So you hit a homer, huh?” she asked, confused by his misery.
Colm nodded. “Best sex I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”
Kelli could relate to that. She felt the same way about her night with Padraig. And he couldn’t even remember it. “Wow. Didn’t realize Regina George had it in her,” she said, working hard to adopt the teasing tone reserved pretty much exclusively for Colm.
“Neither did I. In fact, I was debating breaking things off with her.”
“After you had sex with her, of course.”
Despite the fact he looked like he’d been ridden hard and put up wet, Colm managed to give her his signature cocky grin. “Of course after. Jesus. I’m not an idiot.”
“And now she’s not returning your calls?” Kelli asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, she added, “Good for her. Starting to respect Brooke more.”
Colm ignored her. “No. She’s not returning my calls. Or my texts. I’m starting to feel like a creepy stalker. I just can’t figure out…”
“Have you considered that maybe it wasn’t as great for her?”
Colm smirked. “That thought never crossed my mind. Because I know it was. That many orgasms don’t lie.”
“You realize women can fake those, right?”
Colm took a long swig of his beer. “Nope. Not fake. I’d know.”
“Says every man on the planet. Yet most women are faking them. That’s pretty simple math.”
“No. It was good for her too. I know it was. Which is why I can’t… Aw, fuck it. I’m tired of talking about it. Tired of thinking about it.” Colm set his pint glass down and stroked his beard before running his hand through his hair.
“You’re going to go bald if you keep tugging at it like that,” she said.
And then, she recalled her conversation with Colm last week, the way he’d really listened and been supportive of her decision to have a baby on her own.
Padraig was gathering up empty glasses from a table nearby, and Emmy was on her way back from the bathroom.
“Can I talk to you, Colm?” she asked. “In private.”
He looked somewhat surprised by the request, but he recovered quickly. “Sure.” He picked up his beer glass and headed to a table near the bar.
“No,” she said, stopping him with a hand on his forearm. “Over there.” She pointed to a booth in the far corner. She couldn’t risk anyone overhearing what she was going to say.
Colm gestured for her to lead the way.
Once they were settled in the booth, he said, “What’s up? Something go wrong with the sperm donor?”
She shook her head, not surprised he assumed that was what she wanted to talk about. Right now, he and Robbie were the only two people who knew about her plans to have a baby.
“No. It’s about Halloween. I…” She swallowed heavily, her mouth suddenly going dry.
She reached across the table and grabbed Colm’s Guinness, taking a long swig as his eyebrows rose.
“What about it?”
“I, um…well, I… Fuck. I slept with Paddy.”
Colm tilted his head, and for a moment, she could almost imagine him trying to figure out if he’d heard her correctly. “Slept with or had sex with?”
“Sex,” she whispered.
Colm shook his head. “That’s not possible. Paddy hasn’t said a word to me about—”
“He was blacked out. Doesn’t remember.”
“I’m pretty fucking sure he’d remember that, Kell.”
“He doesn’t, okay?” She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but she was running on fumes at the moment, her nerves stretched taut.
“Okay. You’re going to have to work with me here though. I mean…even if he doesn’t remember,
