“Is this the part where you tell me that you’ve had a great time, and you’ll always cherish the memories we’ve made together, but it’s time for me to get the fuck away from you now?’
“What?” I gaped at him. “No. Why would you even say that?”
“Not sure,” he replied in a curious tone, rubbing his jaw. “Those damn tv shows you make me watch must be making me soft.”
“Well, I’d say that I’m the one making you soft, but we both know that never happens when you’re around me.”
“Nice.”
“Thanks. So, listen, I have no plans on ending anything,” I hurried to say. “But I was hoping that I could run something by you really quick.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Only a little.” I laughed nervously and looked up at him. “How would you feel about coming over for dinner?”
“Huh?” Joey stared down at me like he hadn’t understood the question.
“Dinner,” I repeated, swallowing deeply. “I want you to come over for dinner.”
“With you?”
“Yeah,” I replied with an enthusiastic nod. “And the rest of my family.”
“No,” he was quick to shut down, as his hand dropped from my shoulder like my skin had burned him. “Not happening.”
I rolled my eyes. “Joey.”
"I'm not interested,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “If you wanted a guy that you could take home to meet the family, then you should have stuck with Ricey. I’m clearly not that guy, Molloy. I’m not the kind that mother’s want to see with their daughters shacking up with.”
“Oh, please,” I snapped. “My mam loves you.”
“Only because she doesn’t know what I do to her daughter when they go to bed at night.”
My jaw fell open. “Joe, come on.”
“No, no, no, don’t look at me like that,” he warned. “Don’t give me those big eyes, Molloy. It’s not happening. You know that I don’t want your father finding out about us. I could lose my job. How the fuck am I supposed to explain rolling up to the dinner table with his baby girl in tow?”
I shrugged. “We could just tell them?”
Now he was the one whose mouth fell open. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“What?” I defended. “Would it be so terrible if our parents knew about us?”
“Yes, it would,” he argued right back. “It would be very fucking terrible. I could lose my job.”
“He won’t fire you for being my boyfriend.”
“I’m not your boyfriend, Molloy,” he was quick to deny. “I’m just your—”
“Yes, you are, ya big eejit,” I snapped, irritated now. “It’s been seven months. You’re my boyfriend, I’m your girlfriend, and we love each other a lot.”
“We absolutely do not!”
“So much in fact that we love to take our clothes off and put our mouths on each other’s—“
“Jesus Christ.” He blew out a pained breath. “You are hell bent on getting me killed, aren’t ya?”
“It’s going to be fine,” I coaxed, sliding my arm through his, as I practically dragged him down the road. “They didn’t even sound that surprised when I mentioned it.”
“What?” He gaped at me. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Molloy.”
“Nothing, I swear.”
“Molloy.”
“Fine.” I threw my hands up. “I already told my parents that I invited you over for dinner.”
“No.” Joey stopped walking again, and this time, I think he stopped breathing. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“And I also told them that you said you’d come,” I admitted, covering my eyes with my hand and then peeking through my fingers.
His eyes bulged. “And?”
“And they said that dinner will be ready at one o’ clock,” I twisted the knife by adding. “We’re having roast beef. Please don’t be mad.”
“Roast beef?” Running a hand through his hair, he hissed, “Aoife, I’m going to be roast fucking beef when your father gets his hands on me.”
“Wow,” I mused. “You called me Aoife. You never call me Aoife.”
“Well, I suppose I better start practicing,” he hissed. “You know, for when I meet your parents.”
I grinned. “As my boyfriend.”
“Not your boyfriend,” he muttered, and then released a pained groan. “Oh my Jesus, I just realized something.”
“What?”
“My boss’s daughter is my girlfriend.”
Laughing, I patted him on the shoulder. “That, she is.”
DINNER WITH TONY
AUGUST 22ND 2004
JOEY
Molloy snookered me with an invitation to dinner with her family that I couldn’t get myself out of.
I’d been in her house countless times over the years, but never as her invited guest for a family dinner.
Unnerved and completely unprepared for what I was about to face, I stood slightly behind her the whole way there, keeping my hands in my jean’s pockets.
Don’t touch her, I mentally warned myself, as she opened the front door and stepped inside, and no goddamn fighting.
“It’s okay,” she said, with a smug grin, as she gestured for me to follow her into the lion’s den.
Yeah, it might be okay for her, I thought bitterly, but I was the one with everything on the line here.
My ability to provide for my family.
My ability to procreate with a functional pair of balls.
Yeah, I had a feeling both were at stake today.
This was all new territory to me.
One minute, I was twelve years old, and locking eyes on her at the school gates, and the next, I was seventeen, standing in her house, about to tell her father that she was mine.
Christ.
I had no fucking clue how to make this work without screwing everything up.
Because let’s face it, I had a gift for fucking up.
Muttering out a string of curse words under my breath, I followed her into the house, feeling my heartrate increase with every step I took closer to the kitchen – a kitchen I knew well, considering I’d helped Tony fit it three summers ago.
“Aoife, is that you, love?” With her back to the door, Trish Molloy reached into the oven and retrieved the nicest smelling joint of roast beef I’d ever had the pleasure of smelling. “Have you any idea what time young Joey is coming over? The meat’s just done, and I want to serve it while it’s hot.”
“Yeah, Mam,” Molloy offered, offering me a reassuring nudge with her shoulder. “We’re both here.”
Here we go.
“Joey, love.” Setting the roasting tin on the counter, Trish pulled off her oven glove and shuffled over to us. “How are you?” With a warm smile, she grabbed my arms, reached up, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “It’s lovely to have you over.”
Repressing the urge to jerk away from her touch, I forced myself to smile down at the low-sized, blonde.
“It’s good to see you, Trish.” Feeling at a complete fucking loss, I shrugged and added, “Thanks for having me over.” Again. “The food smells great.”