Page 90 of Weekends with You

“Who said I was talking about you?” I turned around this time, batting him lightly on the arm with the book in my hand. He snatched it from me, his laughter drowning the sound of my gasp. “You know I’m just winding you up.”

“What else is new?”

“It’s how you know I like you.” His dimple deepened as he smiled, and he closed the space between us.

“Is that what your parents told you when someone teased you on the playground in primary school? That it certainly meant they had a crush on you?”

“Yep. And that’s probably why I proposed to my grade-two girlfriend after she threw sand in my eyes.”

“You really are damaged, aren’t you?” I said, fighting a laugh.

“Part of my charm, isn’t it?” The candlelight danced in his eyes, and I couldn’t chat for another minute without wanting to take his clothes off right there in that shop. I had a feeling Flannel and his cat wouldn’t have approved. “Now, I’m serious,” he continued. “Find some other books you love so I can have the pleasure of watching you read them.”

“In all the time you spend at home?”

“Watch it, Bernstein,” he said through a smile, pointing a long finger at my face. “With all that attitude, I’m starting to believe you don’t want me home after all.”

“We both know that’s the opposite of what I want,” I whispered, holding his gaze. The wrinkles in his forehead softened as he looked at me, and for a minute it felt like there had never been any distance between us at all.

He bought me a small stack of books, trying and failing to charm Flannel and the cat as he paid. We ambled back onto the street, ducking in and out of shops, idly conversing with shopkeepers, musing at the sky as heavy silver clouds obscured the pale blue of early spring.

As we wandered past a small produce market boasting an impressive selection of local blooms, I couldn’t stop my mind from floating to work. The shower would have been that morning, and I needed confirmation that Renee had gotten on okay.I slid my phone from my pocket, figuring one text wouldn’t hurt, and then I could go back to enjoying the weekend in peace.

Hi Vivienne. Just checking everything went okay this morning? Congrats again on your day.

Henry and I had only carried on a few more steps before she responded. I slowed my pace to read the message, stopping altogether before I reached the end.

Lucy, hi dear. Glad you texted. This morning wasn’t quite up to your usual standard at the Lotus, if I’m honest. The original delivery was missing two bouquets, and some of the centerpieces were coming loose by midday. I know you’re on holiday so I don’t want to be a bother, but I thought I’d let you know. And as always, thank you for your work.

“All right?” Henry asked, watching me staring at the text.

“Renee screwed up this morning a bit,” I said, still staring. “The client said it ‘wasn’t up to our usual standard.’ Some pieces were missing, and others were falling apart, it seems.” I collected my hair in my hands, holding it off the back of my neck to cool myself down.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, Luce.”

“I leave for one weekend, you know?” I said, letting my frustration get the best of me. “And Renee assured me things would be fine for the shower today. She’s been doing this job her entire life, Hen. And if she can’t do it without me anymore, why can’t I have a raise?” I was suddenly on the verge of throwing a tantrum, and I needed to reel it in before I made a scene on the sidewalk. “I know, I know, she would if shecould,” I said before Henry even responded. “But I feel like lately I’m doing all the work for half the pay.”

“Maybe it’s time you talk to her about it. For real, I mean, not just in passing. If it’s going in this direction now, I don’t see it turning around. Do you?”

“If I said yes, would you know I was lying?”

“Everyone always knows when you’re lying.”

I moaned audibly and rested my forehead against his chest, hoping his heartbeat would steady my own. He ran a large hand up and down my back, and I tried to let my frustration melt away with its warmth.

“I suppose since Vivienne knows I’m on holiday I don’t have to answer right away,” I mumbled against his sweater. “And Renee doesn’t even know I texted to her, so I don’t have to talk to Renee yet, either.”

“Right you are,” Henry said, resting his chin on the top of my head. “And since you’re on holiday, there’s only one thing to do.”

“Drink?”

“Drink.”

The rain returned just in time to accompany us to the pub, where Jan had saved us a booth in the back of the room next to a growling fire. We squeezed past the bar, which was beginning to amass a bit of a crowd, and joined the rest of the lot in the booth. As we took turns sharing our findings and hearing how everyone had spent the afternoon, my feet found their way back to solid ground. There was nothing I could do about my job from here, so I might as well pretend it didn’t exist at all. Good practice, too, if someday soon I would no longer be pretending.

The pub was as quintessentially Irish as Finn himself. I savored a moment picturing him here as a child with his parents,and later as a teen, sneaking pints with his friends, trying to take home college girls. None of the rest of us had grown up in small towns like this: I grew up in Syosset, Jan in Rotterdam, Margot in Bristol, Henry in Liverpool, Cal in Edinburgh, Raja in Dubai, and Liv in Essex.

We had been to homely pubs before, but never one like this. The bartenders knew the names of every patron, people traveled from table to table catching up on their kids and their farms, teenagers in school uniforms giggled together in the back under the watchful eyes of their parents in the front. There was plenty of room in the booth but we snuggled closer anyway, caught in the open arms of Finn’s little village.

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