Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (6 page)

The following Monday morning, Dara waited patiently at the station for the commuter train to Dublin.  It was back to reality now, back to work, and Dara supposed – as she eventually boarded the train along with the usual throng – probably back to an earful from Ruth too.

“So, how did the wedding of the year go?” her colleague asked sardonically when Dara arrived at the offices of Cullen & Co Solicitors.  Due to her own sister’s wedding taking place on the same day, Ruth hadn’t been able to attend Dara’s, but even if her workmate had been free, Dara didn’t think she’d have gone anyway.   Ruth knew all about Noah Morgan and, unfortunately for her, knew even more about Dara’s hidden – but enduring– feelings for him.

“It was a lovely day – we had a great time,” Dara replied mildly, sitting down at her desk with a heavy heart, spotting a high pile of paperwork that threatened to topple over. 

Ruth, whose desk was situated parallel with Dara’s, swivelled around in her chair to face her. “Best day of your life and all that?”

Dara smiled softly, thinking of Mark’s dreadful nerves, her mother’s fussing, her sisters’ histrionics. “Close enough.”

Ruth shook her head. “I still think you sold out,” she stated matter-of-factly.  “In fact, I
know
you sold out. And I’m disappointed in you.”

“I did not sell out, Ruth,” Dara said through gritted teeth, not wanting to go through all this again – and especially not now.  She wished she’d never told her anything.  Ruth could be like a dog with a bone sometimes.

“Of course you did.  Mark Russell is a lovely guy, but he’s not the one for you.”

“Who says he’s not?”

“You did, dearie.  Don’t think I’ve forgotten our little tequila binge many moons ago.”

Dara flushed, and idly switched on her PC. “I told you that was just the drink talking.  I didn’t mean any of it.”

Shortly after she and Mark got engaged, Dara had one night, over a bottle of tequila, drunkenly told Ruth all about Noah – her one true love.  Stupidly, she’d also confessed that although she loved Mark dearly, he really didn’t hold a candle to Noah.  A born romantic, but paradoxically pragmatic, Ruth had been horrified.

“Then how can you even
think
of marrying the guy?” she’d asked.

“Well, I love him, but I’m not
in
love with him,” Dara had slurred.

“Bullshit! Either you are or you aren’t.”

“But I am.  I like his company, I like his sense of fun, his reliability – ”

“Next you’re going to tell me he has a nice personality.”

“Well, he does.”

“But?”

Dara sighed exaggeratedly. “But he’s just not Noah.”

“Look, Dara,” Ruth insisted, “if this Noah was so bloody perfect and the right guy for you, then how come you two aren’t still together?  What the hell happened?”

“I was an idiot,” Dara shook her head ruefully.  “It was all my fault. I made a total mess of things.”

Ruth got up and poured another shot of tequila. “Tell me everything,” she implored. “And start at the very beginning.”

Dara did.

*******

Like most women, Dara had always had a pretty good idea of the kind of man she’d like to meet and fall and love with.  He’d be attractive of course, charming, considerate, funny, and with any luck he’d be also be very romantic.  Dara was no extreme feminist; in her eyes a dollop of old-fashioned romance was essential in a relationship.  Pulling out chairs, opening doors, all those things made her go weak at the knees, and while it mightn’t have been fashionable to admit such a thing in these days of so-called equality, Dara didn’t care.

But Noah Morgan ticked all those boxes and more.  With intense green eyes, jet-black hair and a smile that could make him a living in Hollywood, Noah was so attractive it should have been illegal.  He had the power to make Dara – and quite possibly every other woman within a hundred-mile radius – go completely weak at the knees. 

Yet for some reason, he seemed to have taken a fancy to her in return, and from the very first moment they’d laid eyes upon one another, the two of them had been inseparable.

Considering their passionate and romance-filled relationship, they’d met in the least romantic of circumstances.  Dara had popped out one evening to buy an emergency packet of tampons in the little shop near her rented flat, and was standing in front of the checkout when she realised she’d come out without her purse.  To her utter embarrassment, the fine thing standing behind her insisted on paying on her behalf.  Dara had been unable to determine which was more embarrassing: the entire shop knowing her menstrual workings, or Mr Sex-on-Legs seeing her at her worst in baggy track bottoms, no make-up, and greasy, unwashed hair.

But this hadn’t deterred Noah Morgan, and when a blushing Dara insisted he walk back to the flat with her so she could repay him, he duly followed and then promptly asked her out.  After that, they were rarely apart.

The relationship was fantastic and every day Dara pinched herself, wondering what she’d done to deserve someone like him – someone who was drop-dead gorgeous, but who was also funny, intelligent,
faithful.

The early days had admittedly been challenging for her – Noah’s fun-loving personality, brooding good looks and magnetic appeal to other women being almost too much for Dara to bear.  But after a while, after coming to terms with the fact that
she
was the only one he wanted, much of her jealously dissipated. 

And Noah was different to most men she’d met in that he was quite unashamedly romantic.  He loved grand gestures, and would think nothing of sending a dozen roses to Dara’s office on any given weekday, or whisking her away for romantic weekends for no apparent reason.  And she’d loved his devil-may-care attitude about work and careers. To him everything was transient, and to Dara this facet of his personality made him all the
more enigmatic.  Noah had a way of making real life seem so unimportant, had a way of reducing things like career and money to the most mundane. 

When it all started to go wrong, they’d been together for as long as she could remember, and at the time Dara was sure they would be together for good.

To this day, she still couldn’t figure out why she’d pushed the self-destruct button.

Of course, she could see
why
it happened, but at the time she’d had no idea what she was really doing.

It had all started when Clodagh Thompson, Dara’s best friend at the time, became engaged to her boyfriend Simon. The girls were in their late twenties then, and although she and Noah had been together for some time, and shared a flat in Dublin together, before then Dara had never
properly
considered marrying or settling down with him.  They were having lots of fun going out weekends with the gang, taking life as it came, just enjoying being together. And because none of the others had gone down the marriage road, it hadn’t really been an issue.  Because they’d been together for so long, and they were so much in love, somewhere in the back of her mind she’d assumed it would happen eventually.  He loved her, she loved him, they were a perfect match, so why
wouldn’t
they end up together?

But as Dara became more and more involved in Clodagh’s preparations for the wedding, she – almost unconsciously – became more and more interested in the dresses Clodagh tried on, in her choice of wedding cake, the flowers, the hotel – all the fun stuff.  Before Dara knew it she’d been bitten by the wedding bug, totally enthralled by the fairytale.

Then, hardly aware that she was doing it, she began dropping tiny wedding-related hints to Noah.

Dara cringed when she thought about it afterwards – how she kept filling him in on every detail of Clodagh’s wedding preparations, about how Simon was so looking forward to their buying a house and starting a family. 

Before she knew it, she’d somehow got into the habit of picking up bridal magazines with her weekly shopping, and getting estate agent brochures sent to the flat.  And then, to top it all off, while on supposedly fun nights out in town, she’d taken to not-so-subtly dragging Noah to jewellery store windows and pointing out expensive diamond rings glittering attractively in the darkness.  Within a few months of her best friend’s engagement, Dara had turned from a fun, easy-going, take-things-as-they came girlfriend, to a desperate wannabe bride.

Noticing that her best friend was by now on first-name terms with the city’s best bridal designers and that her typical topic of discussion was how many high-street shops they’d get through on any given Saturday, Clodagh had no choice but to eventually pass comment. 

“Have you and Noah talked about getting married, too?” she asked one day when Dara was at Clodagh and Simon’s new house.

“Nope, why?” Dara replied absently, all the while flicking through one of Clodagh’s bridal magazines.  God, that colour would look amazing on Serena, she thought.  With her fabulous sallow skin, Dara’s sister could wear any colour she wanted.  But it wouldn’t look too bad on Amy either – although her younger sister couldn’t seem to lose her teenage puppy fat.  Hmm, it would be tough to get them to agree really, but –

“Then why do you keep marking pages on my bridal magazines?” Clodagh picked up an article entitled ‘
Top Ten Beauty Tips for the Big Day
’.

Dara shrugged guiltily. “I dunno, I’m just keeping up to date with things – for you.  I know you can’t do everything, so like any good best friend should, I’m making sure I know as much as I can, so I can help as much as I can.” She wouldn’t meet her friend’s eye. “And I happen to find all this wedding stuff very interesting, you know. Considering I’ve never really thought about it before and all that.”

“Dara,” Clodagh began carefully, “I appreciate all your help, you know I do, but if I were you, I wouldn’t go on to Noah about how ‘interesting’ all this is.  Simon is bad enough when I talk about it, and he’s the one who suggested this wedding in the first place, so if Noah’s hearing a lot of it from you –”

“Don’t be silly.  Noah knows that as your best friend and bridesmaid, I’m just keeping myself informed on the most up-to-date developments, that’s all.” She lifted her chin defiantly.

“Are you sure?” Clodagh moved across to sit beside her on the couch.  “Are you sure that you aren’t getting a teeny bit over-involved in all this?  Making it a little more personal than you think?”

“What? Of course not!  Anyway, I’m sure Noah and I will be getting married eventually, Clodagh.  So it’s no harm to have some of the groundwork done, is it?”

“The most important groundwork of all is to have a willing groom on the day,” Clodagh shot back, and seeing her friend’s wounded expression, instantly wished she hadn’t. “I’m sorry – I didn’t mean that as it sounded.  But, men can be a bit funny sometimes,” she added quickly.

“Not Noah,” Dara insisted.  “He knows what I’m like.  And I don’t think he is one of those funny men you’re talking about.  I mean, what other guy do you know quotes Shakespeare to his girlfriend when he gets drunk?”

Clodagh laughed. “Maybe you’re right.  Maybe Noah Morgan is the one guy who
could
take all this wedding talk in his stride!”

But, one evening shortly afterwards, Noah arrived home from work, took one look at Dara, and promptly sat her down for a chat.

“We need to talk,” he said gently.

Dara almost burst with optimism.  He was going to do it, he was going to propose!  He’d finally decided that they were ready to make the move.  Fantastic!  Did he have the ring with him, she wondered, unable to prevent a grin.  He knew how much she loved that oval solitaire, didn’t he?  The one she’d pointed out that day in Appleby’s?  Or if not, he could always get that similar, but less expensive one from Fields’ – had she shown him that one too?  Yes, she was sure she’d mentioned it one time while shopping in town.  The only snag was, he’d just started a new job, so she really couldn’t expect him to fork out for a big diam–

“Dara, listen to me,” Noah was saying, his voice ultra-serious as he lightly caressed her hand. 

Oh wow, she thought – knowing Noah, this was going to be
incredibly
romantic! He was so thoughtful, always leaving little love-notes around the place when he was away, always bringing her little presents for no particular reason.  His proposal was bound to be spectacular – but why hadn’t he taken her to Paris or even Rome for a special occasion like this?  Considering how much they wanted to visit … 

Still, what did it matter where it happened?  It was
happening
, wasn’t it?

“Yes, Noah?” Dara squeezed his hand, and looked at him expectantly, the beginnings of tears in her eyes. 

Oh, God, she was going to remember this moment for the rest of her life!  She was going to remember what she was wearing, what he was wearing – which happened to be a manky sweatshirt and ripped jeans – such a shame he couldn’t he have dressed up a little.  But then again, maybe he’d just been struck by the moment!  Maybe it was because she was looking particularly – ahem – bride-like today, dressed as she was in one of Clodagh’s ‘rejects’, which incidentally fit her like a second skin.