Page 89 of Weekends with You

I looked to Hen, expecting to share a laugh at this explanation for why everyone knew what had happened last night, but he was staring straight ahead. Something in the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners looked sad. Forlorn, even.

“We are, aren’t we?” he said, without looking at Finn.

“Well, we were until you blokes had to go and make plans to leave,” Finn joked, looking at Henry, then Cal, and back at Henry.

“Aye, no one’s gone yet,” Henry said, a bit too quickly.

“And we’ll still be a family even if we aren’t in the flat,” Cal added.

“Thank god,” Liv said. “We’d be right lost without you two.”

Cal laughed in his warm, quiet way. “You’d be just fine.”

“We’re hardly going anywhere,” Hen said. “Metaphorically, I mean.”

I shot my eyes in his direction, but the second they met his, he returned his gaze to the sidewalk. I swallowed the bubble of hope blocking my airway, trying not to say anything else, but I couldn’t help but notice he’d fumbled. And he rarely fumbled.And yet the more we talked about his move, the more he seemed to be changing his mind.

Puffy cartoon clouds floated away from the sun as we walked, exposing a periwinkle sky. We turned our faces to the warmth, basking in the day, and for me, the possibility of the future.

Finn led us down each path like a tour guide, and as much as he messed around in the apartment, he was serious about his hometown. The history of shops and their owners flowed from him like water from a fountain, and for once we were all actually listening. He spun stories of shop owners having affairs with the shop owners next door, shops made up of only nicked goods, shops that have been around longer than the city itself; the tales floated from a bottomless well.

Each facade was faded on the side most often whipped by the wind, and the hues matched those of the pennants waving proudly above the storefronts. It looked like a postcard. Not a postcard just taken off the rack, either, but one that had been sent halfway around the world and read over and over again, cherished until it faded.

The effect of coral pinks after sage greens after dandelion yellows was hypnotic, and by the time I snapped back to reality, Jan had left us for the pub and Liv was spending her entire paycheck on a bag no bigger than a sausage roll. We were nothing if not consistent.

“I suppose we can split up if we want, enjoy the day,” Finn said as we came to the end of our makeshift tour. “We’ve already lost a few, so might as well pop into the shops we enjoy. Find each other at the pub later, yeah? There’s more to this little square than meets the eye, I promise.”

“You don’t have to convince us of that,” Cal said. “Reminds me a bit of home. Thanks for the tour, Finn.”

“It really is charming,” Raja said, eyeing a housewares boutique. “Someone shoot a text when we’re ready to find each other at the pub? I’m sure Jan will be smashed by then, but what else is new?” We laughed, confirmed that we’d text, and parted ways, each in the direction of something that had caught our eye. Except for Finn, who went to go find Liv, I thought. Which I supposed was the same thing.

In a mindless scan of the street, just taking in the moment, my eyes caught on some sort of hybrid shop selling candles and used books. The window display was nothing more than a few candles dripping wax onto stacks of old Irish titles, but I couldn’t resist.

A brass bell above the door announced my arrival to no one other than the shopkeeper and his mangy cat. The owner was around middle age, sporting a thick flannel shirt, dark corduroy trousers, and a scruffy beard to match his feline counterpart. If I had had any secret hopes of finding solace or answers in the wise old shopkeeper, they were dashed the moment he did no more than grunt at my presence.

The intoxicating scents of leather and lavender coated the air, masking the musk of dusty pages. It seemed dangerous for the scattered candle flames to be dancing atop stacks of books, but I was too enchanted to mind. Poetry volumes lay atop one another like lovers under a bath of candlelight, and anthologies of stories by local Irish authors stood proudly on display. I didn’t believe in heaven, but if I had, it would be this shop. Sans its other occupants.

I was so engrossed in a poem about a gardener that I didn’t hear the bell announce another customer. It was titled “Forget Me, Forget Me Nots,” and the page was dog-eared on the left side.

“Let me buy that for you,” Henry whispered, despite thefact that we weren’t in a library. I jumped, surprised to hear his voice in the silence, and he laughed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He plucked the book from my hands, tucking it under his arm.

“I was reading that, you know.”

He leaned in so that his lips grazed my ear. “And you looked beautiful doing it.”

I cocked my head back, meeting his eyes. “You say that about everything.”

“And I mean it every time.” He kissed me quickly on the cheek, then returned to a normal volume. “Find some other books you like. Let me treat you.”

“What for?”

“I can’t just do something nice for you because I want to?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only widened his playfully in return. “You’re flirtier this time around, you know,” I said, starting to browse the stacks a bit more intentionally.

“I’m feeling good lately.” He trailed his fingertips down my shoulder as he spoke, sending a chill up my spine right to the base of my skull. I thought of his hand in that place last night, the gentle tug of my hair that brought my lips to his. I resisted turning around, forcing myself to remember we were in public. “I feel, I don’t know, clearer,” he continued. “Getting off the road isn’t as disappointing as it used to be. Quite the opposite, if I’m honest.”

“Ah, every girl’s dream,” I joked. “Not to be a disappointment.”

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