The Morning After (3 page)

Cara rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ethan.” Her voice was laced with just the right amount of light scorn. Then she stilled and grasped his arm. The color bled from her face. “Oh Christ, has there been an accident? Is Michael…”

Why was he making such a mess of this?

Ethan shook his head. “He’s fine.” He helped her onto the nearest chair, and sat down opposite her, pulling his chair close so their knees were touching. “But he’s not the guy you think he is.”

Cara’s shoulders stiffened.

Ethan took a deep breath, and prepared himself for breaking her heart. “I came into town yesterday, and met up with Sean for a drink.” His throat was dry—a drink right about now might be good. “Anyway, I saw Michael in the club.”

“But he was working last night.” Cara’s voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Maybe he told you he was working, but I saw him. With a woman.”

Cara’s eyes widened. She looked like a puppy that had been kicked.

Ethan’s heart clenched. He knew that feeling, only too well. He gritted his teeth, and ploughed on. She deserved to know all the gory details. “I’m telling you because you need to know.” He reached for her hand and warmed it between both of his. “He was kissing the woman.”

Cara gasped. The fingers captured between his hands fluttered and shook. “I…” Her head shook in rapid shakes back and forth in fervent rejection of his words.

Ethan focused all his attention on her white face. “There’s no mistake.” His voice was deep and quiet. “He was messing around, when he’d already asked you to be his bride.”

“Did he see you?” Cara forced out through white lips.

“Yeah, about thirty seconds before I hit him.” Ethan felt his mouth stretch in a tight smile.

“You hit…”

Ethan crossed his arms. “He deserved it.”

A ringing cut through the silence. Ethan reached into his pocket to fish out his cell phone, pressing a button to send it to voicemail without even glancing at the display to see who was calling.

“I need to talk to him.” Cara stood. She scanned the messages on her phone. “He rang me this morning and left a message. I need to listen to it.”

Ethan’s phone rang again.

Cara glanced at his pocket. “You better answer that, it could be important.” Clutching her phone, she walked from the kitchen into the sitting room.

She was hurting. And she had more hurt on the way, when she heard confirmation from Michael’s own lips.

Ethan flicked his cell phone to voicemail again, and strode into the sitting room.

Cara was curled up on the red leather sofa. The phone was clamped against her ear, and her eyes were scrunched up tight. Her free arm was wrapped around her stomach—as if holding herself together.

Ethan stopped in the doorway. Maybe he should give her some privacy. He discarded that idea the moment it formed. She didn’t need privacy, she needed a friend. And luckily, she had one. “Cara.”

Her eyes opened. She snapped her phone shut and placed it carefully on the sofa next to her. “He left me a message.”

Ethan picked up her phone and sat down next to her. “May I?”

She nodded.

Michael’s familiar voice replayed. “You’ve probably already heard from your friend. And yes, I won’t bother to deny it. I was out with a woman. And, as his bloody brother was there to witness it, I won’t waste your time and mine in pretending it was innocent.”

Ethan glanced at Cara.

She stared at the wall.

“The truth is you’re a bit of a cold fish. A man needs a willing woman sometimes.” Michael’s voice was laced with bitterness. “I know it’s over between us. Don’t bother calling me back, I’m turning my phone off and going to Dublin for a few days.”

Dead air filled the space where his apology should have been.

“Cara.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Ethan. And I’d like you to go.” Cara stood hugging herself. Avoiding his eyes.

Ethan wanted to pull her into his arms. Reassure her that everything would be all right. He wanted to tell her that Michael had always been an ass, since he’d been captain of the rugby team, always chasing girls with big breasts and come-hither eyes. But adding to her grief wouldn’t help. She’d asked him to go, and he would. “The premiere is at eight,” he said. “I’ll be here to pick you up.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going.”

There was too much space between them. He closed it, grasping her upper arms gently. “If you don’t go, everyone will want to know why. You’ve been involved with the fundraiser for the hospital from the outset. You’re on the committee. It was your idea, for God’s sake. You’re going. With me.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back at seven-thirty. Be ready.”

****

Three hours and a bucket of Haagan-Dazs later, Cara wandered into her bathroom. She peered in the mirror. Swollen, bloodshot eyes peered back. With a twist of the faucet, the basin filled with cold water. She wrung out a flannel and sat on the toilet seat, flopping the wet cloth over her face.

Her shoulders relaxed as the cold water soothed. Ethan was right. If she didn’t go to the premiere, everyone would want to know why. They’d call, maybe even turn up at her house to find out what was wrong. She couldn’t let that happen. It would make her humiliation so much worse.

The only thing for it was to dress up in the slinky number she’d bought specially for the occasion, put a brave face on, and make some excuse for Michael’s absence. The bad news could come out tomorrow. Tonight the success of the fundraiser must be her only concern.

An hour later, the doorbell rang.

Cara glanced out the bedroom window.

A long, black limousine idled by the curb, with a uniformed driver staring straight ahead. She checked herself out in the mirror. Glittery purple dress. A quick turn around made sure vpl’s were absent. Matching killer heels—hopefully she wouldn’t have to walk far in them. Carefully applied makeup had banished the crying jag from earlier, and her hair looked okay too—it should, she’d spent long enough taming it.

She tried out her party smile. Not great, but it’d have to do.

The doorbell rang again, obviously jabbed a couple of times in quick succession. She caught a glimpse of her first real smile in hours as she turned from the mirror. Her heart warmed. Ethan was there for her. He was always there for her. She grabbed her matching purple bag from the bed, and hurried to open the door.

“Wow.” Ethan’s wide grin set off a tingle of reaction in her stomach. “You look…” His gaze swept her head to toe. “Fantastic.”

He looked pretty damn fantastic too, in a fitted black suit, black shirt and black silk tie. Not many men could carry off such a severe look, but with his long hair brushing his shoulders and that hint of stubble, Ethan looked every inch the Hollywood movie star.

She breathed in the scent of sandalwood and man, and a wobbly, swoony feeling swept through her. “You look pretty fantastic yourself,” she whispered.

“We’re well matched then.” Ethan took her hand. “Ready to go?”

In the limo, Ethan carefully poured her a glass of champagne. “I thought we could do with a glass before we get there.”

“Do you always have a drink before you go out to things?” Her voice sounded sharp. “I mean, you’re not drinking too much, are you, Ethan?” Her hand covered his.

Ethan swallowed a mouthful. “I don’t drink too much. And no, I don’t usually have a drink before I go out to things.”

“I didn’t mean…”

His gaze burned her to her spine with its intensity. “I know what you meant,” he said in a soft voice. “You were thinking of my father. But believe me, I have enough friends in the business who abuse alcohol, and I’m not inclined to become a user. I know how that can turn out.” He gazed out the window.

“So the champagne’s for me, then?”

At the teasing tone in her voice, Ethan turned back. “Yes. I thought you could do with some Dutch courage before facing everyone.”

Cara put her glass down carefully on the built in table and reached out to trail a hand over his jaw. “Come here you.”

He leaned closer.

She kissed his cheek, feeling the stubble against her lips. “You are a good friend, Ethan Quinn, and I don’t think I’ve told you how much I appreciate you.”

If his face angled, their lips would meet.

Cara pulled back. “So.” She sucked in a deep breath, and forced a lightness into her voice she sure didn’t feel. “You hit him. Tell me all about it.”

“It was a real Crash Carrigan move. Uppercut to the jaw. He went down like a sack of potatoes.”

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, releasing the pain and angst with it as it filled the close confines of the car.

Ethan’s eyes lightened. “Then I told him he better tell you—or I would.”

A mental image flashed of Ethan standing over the man who’d proposed to her, eyes blazing with anger. “You said that?”

“I managed to get that in before the bouncers threw me out.”

If the paparazzi had been there… Cara’s heart tightened. The gossip rags would have a field day if they’d managed to snatch a photo. Ethan’s every move was tracked by voracious newshounds. Every woman who appeared on his arm was automatically photographed, researched and discussed as a potential love interest.

She squeezed her hands together in her lap.

The press was covering the premiere and the dinner afterwards. She’d be the focus of attention as his date. Her mouth dried as she weighed the potential fallout.

“We’re here.” Ethan drained his glass.

“Don’t say anything to anyone about Michael,” Cara managed as the car slid to a halt outside Donabridge’s one screen cinema.

“Not a word.” Ethan squeezed her hand.

The chauffeur swung the door open.

The air filled with the sound of excited cheering. Earsplitting screams, and frantic clapping broke out when the crowd saw Ethan’s face. The moment he stepped onto the red carpet and raised his arms up, the crowd behind the barriers went wild.

Cara’s heart thudded as she stepped from the limo behind him. A lightning storm of flashes and the sound of a million camera clicks filled the air.
Wow
. She’d known he was popular, but somehow…

Cara glanced over. Somehow popular didn’t cover half of it. Ethan was a superstar, if the over-excited followers were anything to go by.

A tall brunette dressed in a sensible pantsuit grabbed his arm, and shot Cara a ‘who are you?’ glance.

“Maggie, this is my date, Cara,” Ethan said. “Cara, this is Maggie, my assistant.”

Maggie’s mouth stretched into a tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good to meet you.” She closed the door of the limo. “Let’s get the two of you down that carpet.”

It seemed every foot of the way Ethan slowed to respond to a shouted question. He signed autographs, shook hands with people he’d known in his childhood. And stopped to pause for photographs before the bank of assembled paparazzi.

Cara felt the prick of tears in her eyes. His mother, were she still alive, would have been so proud to see he’d finally achieved his dream. She’d taken two jobs to pay for him to attend stage school in Dublin, had been adamant that he should have every opportunity. And it had paid off. Big time.

Ethan turned and extended his hand.

The moment their hands met, brightness flickered in rapid camera flashes. He slung an arm around her waist. “You’re doing great,” he whispered in her ear.

She’d been stuck in a Winnie the Pooh costume, been betrayed by her boyfriend, and ended up on the red carpet with a Hollywood star.
What a day
.

Chapter Four

A moment before they reached the cinema’s interior, Cara spotted both her parents, and her buoyant mood burst. She stopped dead.

Ethan turned. “Problem?”

“My parents are here. I need to talk to them.”

Ethan nodded. “Okay, let’s get them inside, you can talk before they let everyone else in.”

With a quick word to the gardai manning the barriers, Cara’s parents, Ellie and Bill, slipped through.

After greeting Ethan, Ellie Byrne turned to her only daughter. “What’s going on?” she questioned in a quiet voice. “Why aren’t you here with Michael?”

Cara’s heart sank into her boots. The dream of having a night of denial before facing the cold truth had well and truly evaporated. Ethan was deep in conversation with her father, but his assistant hovered—obviously keen to shepherd him towards the line of waiting politicians.

“Dad.” Her call caught her father’s attention. “Can I talk to you for a second?” She steered them to a quiet corner. “I have to talk to you both about Michael.”

Bill Byrne frowned.

Ellie Byrne’s mouth turned down at the corners. She looked as though she’d swallowed a wasp. “What have you done?” her forehead pleated. “I hope you haven’t thrown him over for…” she glanced Ethan’s direction.

Cara opened her mouth to refute her mother’s words, but before she could answer, Ellie continued. “He’s a nice enough boy. And, God knows, he’s had terrible problems to overcome in his life, but he’s not for you, Cara.”

Anger flashed. Ethan hadn’t done anything to qualify as ‘not for you’. The unfairness threw Cara off track. “Why not?” She squeezed her lips together. It was too late to call back her question, to steer the conversation back to her errant almost fiancé, but she really wanted to know.

“Because he’s flighty. Like that other lad. He won’t be one for settling down.” Her mother’s eyes softened. “I know you like him. You’ve always had a soft spot for him…”

“…but don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s the one for you. Not when you have a perfectly good man asking for your hand, who
is
the settling down type.” Her father finished.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Cara said. “Michael
isn’t.
”

As she explained, the expression on their faces cycled through concern, disbelief, shock and slid to a halt at anger.

“So where the hell is he now?” Bill demanded. His color was high, and his hands clenched into fists.

“He said he was spending the weekend in Dublin,” Cara said. Being so angry couldn’t be good for his blood pressure. She squeezed his hand. “Ethan just brought me along so I wouldn’t have to explain to everyone.”