Hannah’s heart did a funny thunk at the gentle caress of his thumb on the sensitive skin of her wrist as he tugged her closer to him. She was also charmed – not so much at being referred to as his girlfriend, but at the thoughtful way he’d deflected the attention without hurting the girl’s feelings or making her feel a fool.

Hannah stayed at arm’s length, not wanting to spoil the moment for the other girl who beamed triumphantly and clapped him on the shoulder.

‘Now one for the bride,’ she shouted as the other girls propelled the girl in the white dress forward.

Everyone else in the pub turned to watch as Conor graciously bestowed a kiss on the bride’s cheek.

Within minutes, people were pushing their way forward asking for selfies and photos for their nieces, sisters, mums and grannies and Hannah’s hand was reluctantly relinquished as Conor gave her an urgent look. Wait for me, it said. She smiled at him and watched the interactions which Conor bore with his trademark charm, even smiling off the words of an irate drunken man who told him, ‘Yer programme’s a bag of shite but my mammy likes you. Gis us a photo.’

While he was being mobbed, Hannah made her way to the bar and ordered herself a glass of white wine, figuring it might take some time for him to free himself. She observed his interactions with pride. Although he’d told her he’d eschewed the limelight, he was clearly good at handling it, but it must be exhausting to live with. No wonder he preferred Kerry.

She stood at the bar and sipped her wine, every now and then nodding at him when he caught her eye with an apologetic, rueful wink. Her heart warmed watching him. Conor was one of the good ones.

She sighed to herself. No wonder she’d gone and fallen for him. Fallen in love with him.

Love!

Hannah blinked, hoping the shock didn’t show on her face. Falling in love wasn’t supposed to happen. She hadn’t even been aware of it until this very moment. There’d been no bolt-of-lightning moment. No, instead, the feelings had sneaked in like mist under a door. For a second it was hard to take a breath with the firefly bursting in her chest. She was in love with Connor Byrne.

She stood and watched him, her heart fluttering gently. It seemed as if the whole pub wanted their three minutes of fame by proxy with him and he didn’t manage to extricate himself until she’d almost finished her wine and it was very nearly seven o’clock. He made it to her side and took her wine glass, draining it with one quick swallow.

‘Let’s get out of here while we can.’