Cross the Line

Part Nine

Naomi let Conor lead her out into the adjacent room that housed what had been called a buffet, but was in fact an amazing smorgasbord of whole fish, carved meats, salads...a true feast. She had a moderate plate full, but the nerves that had plagued her the whole day had destroyed any significant appetite.

There was a slight awkwardness between them suddenly, and Naomi wished he’d never kissed her on the dance floor, well not for that reason anyway. They’d come to Ireland as friends, and the kiss had crossed that line, she only hoped that they could salvage the weekend before it all spiralled out of control. The worst thing was, she had wanted to kiss him, and had enjoyed it. But his sudden cold shoulder both angered and insulted her. Sighing she carried her food back into the ballroom, and as he directed her towards a table, she spotted a man waving frantically in their direction, a beaming smile on his face.

                “Friend of yours?” she asked over her shoulder.

The pressure of his hand on her spine eased as he gasped, “well well, if it isn’t Patrick Kelly!” The other man was now standing and striding towards them, and Naomi was stunned to see that he was taller than Conor, who was taller than most, his blonde shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail. A lithe Asian woman stood up next to him and the three people hugged each other before Conor finally remembered she was there

                “Sorry, Naomi, this is my oldest friend, Patrick Kelly who told me last week that he couldn’t possibly leave Los Angeles and his high powered job as a film producer to come to this wedding. And this is his wife Lucinda, guys, this is Naomi.” They all exchanged handshake greetings, as Conor shook his head, “Kelly, when are you going to stop telling me lies, I was gutted you weren’t coming back. You told me the world of movie producing couldn’t survive without you!”

He sighed as all four sat down together, “well work things changed...and I would never miss an O’Neill wedding by choice!”  There was a moment where the two men were communicating non-verbally and that confused Naomi for a moment.

Conor looked at his friend knowingly and started to laugh, “Ahh! Who told you?”

Patrick chuckled, “I won’t lie, I did call Michael and heard that you were bringing a companion...one I knew NOTHING about!” Naomi blushed as she realised she was the topic of discussion and subterfuge, and Conor felt that tug of protectiveness pull at him again. Reaching out he ensnared her reluctant hand in his and squeezed it, before they rearranged their seating to make room for the friends.

As they sat, ate and made general conversation, various people joined them or interrupted to speak to Patrick or more frequently Conor. And they were also so obviously close, in a way that he wasn’t with his siblings, dropping into old jokes and conversations that both Naomi and Lucinda had no part, so instead the women discussed life in LA, the world of law, and Lucinda’s home town of San Diego, a long way from Naomi’s own home town.

                “So can I have the pleasure of this dance?” a voice dragged Naomi from the conversation to see Patrick stood with a hand out stretched. Smiling she stood and allowed him to lead her on to the dance floor. Taking her in to a waltz hold, he grinned, “had to get you away from the old ‘Con artist’! He’d watch me like a hawk if I talk to you in front of him, now I get to share all his embarrassing stories.”

She chuckled, “well I think you’ll find Máire and Sinéad beat you to that earlier.”

He threw back his head and laughed, “au contraire! What family know, and what friends know are two very separate things!”

Swirling her around, cutting between the other dancing couples expertly, she marvelled at his skills, “so you and Conor are kind of celebs around here.”