mouth, things she hadn’t at first noticed because she’d been blinded by his aura of niceness.
‘I wondered if you’d be a curtain wiper,’ Cara said. ‘It’s a name me and my friends have for, you know, a man who tiptoes out in the middle of the night, with his jocks in his pocket and, as a final insult, wipes his lad on the curtains. They’re my usual.’
‘I could do it now?’
That was funny – and suddenly she didn’t want to go through it all again: falling for a man, feeling hope bloom, only for it to turn sour and sad.
‘What?’ He was watching her face.
‘I have form. I keep picking bad boys. But I’m burnt out. So do me a favour, do one good act in your terrible life and leave me alone.’
‘I’m one of the good guys. You said it yourself! You kept calling me Nice Ed.’
‘But I don’t fancy nice guys. And I fancy you. So please hop it.’
‘I’m on good terms with all my ex-girlfriends,’ he offered. ‘Not that there are that many,’ he added quickly. ‘Just a normal amount. And only ever one at a time. I’ve never cheated on anyone. I’m a –’
‘Please leave.’
‘Oh. Okay.’
Paradoxically it was his obedience that persuaded her to take a chance on him. ‘All right, you can stay if you answer my questions. What’s your worst trait as a boyfriend?’
He gave it serious thought. ‘Probably money. My job, it’s a niche thing. I’ll never be a high earner, and I’m good with that. I love what I do. But my last girlfriend, Maxie, it made her angry that I wasn’t more ambitious.’
‘What else?’
‘I don’t care about clothes. Sometimes I wear stuff my brothers are throwing out. I’ve had one or two complaints on that score.’
‘You’re a botanist, you said? Does that mean you love the outdoors?’
‘Yes! I love hiking and camping and … No? You hate it?’
‘Hate it.’
‘I love the indoors too. I love a lot of things.’
‘So you mentioned you’ve brothers?’
‘I’ve two. They’re both … you know … The eldest, Johnny –’
‘How much older?’
‘Three years. Three and a bit. A successful salesman who never stops talking. One hilarious story after another.’
‘Oh, I know the type! Says your name six times a sentence? Accumulates people, knows bars that never close – if you’re on an evening out with him, you’ll have the best night of your life and you’ll need a week in hospital to recover?’
Ed lay back on the pillow and laughed loudly. He sounded delighted but also, Cara thought, relieved.
‘And is he one of those – how do I put it delicately? – gnarly-looking, butty Irish men who still manage to get the girls?’
‘Nah-ah … Everyone says he’s a “total ride”.’
‘Photo?’
Ed flicked until he found one.
Cara stared. Johnny had expensively cut chestnut-brown hair, lush eyelashes, a scattering of freckles and a great big smile. He could have been an estate agent, or a junior politician. ‘Like a more groomed – much more groomed, in fairness – better-fed version of you.’ She let that settle, then gave a sidelong smile. ‘Which must mean you’re a total ride too.’
‘But with Johnny you notice it. You’re blinded by it. And your ears are bleeding from the gas stories. He’s a one-man weapon of mass destruction, and even when he’s giving you alcohol poisoning, you still love him.’
This guy is hilarious, Cara thought. He’s lovely. In that moment, she felt pure happiness.
‘And your other brother?’
‘Liam. Liam Casey. The runner.’
Oh, my good God.
Even people who had no interest whatsoever in athletics knew about Liam Casey. No one cared that he was only averagely talented and rarely won any of his international races. With his dishevelled dark-blond hair and his sly-eyed, saucy smile, he’d become a household name in Ireland. If Johnny was ‘a total ride’, he had nothing on sexy, swaggery Liam.
Cripes, no wonder Ed felt like Mr Unimportant, sandwiched between a charm monster and a sex god.
‘So you get on with your brothers? You like them?’
‘Most of the time. Liam is, well, you know … Here’s this guy and he’s an athlete, he’s movie-star handsome and it’s hard for him not to be affected by that. He kinda thinks life is always going to be good to him, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Then Johnny’s my big brother. He’s got the chat and the charm and he’s decent. Maybe not always, because nobody is all the time, but, growing up, he was my hero. He sort of still is.’