Page 45 of An Irish Summer

As we followed Collin’s line of vision, we watched Rhiannon call him over with perfectly manicured fingers. There was an empty space next to her on a small couch, and I didn’t want to imagine Collin filling it. I also didn’t want to imagine their knees touching, them staying until closing time, finding their way out of here together.

But just because I didn’t want to didn’t mean I wasn’t going to.

“I should probably head out,” I said, getting up from the stool and finishing the last of the Limoncello.

“We just got here,” Grant said. “Stay for at least another.”

Collin had yet to walk away, and I could feel his gaze burning through the side of my face.

“This was just for you two to connect with Flo, anyway,” I said to Grant. “I’ve done my job. And now I should keep doing my job if ‘Cooking with Flo’ is going to succeed more than just this once.”

“Always working, this one,” Flo said.

“Someone has to,” I teased.

“Well, we’re very lucky to have met you,” Grant said. “Thank you for putting this together. The Wanderer is lucky to have you on the staff, you know. All of you.”

“We keep telling her that,” Collin said, “but she’s a terrible listener.”

“Didn’t you say you had somewhere to be?” I said, sharper than I intended.

“Didn’t you say the same?”

We stared at each other for a second too long, during which I was sure I heard Rhiannon call his name.

“Feels a bit mad they aren’t going to the same place, doesn’t it? I mean, they obviously should—”

“Grant,” Liam said. Surely this wasn’t the first time Liam had scolded Grant for something like this, because Grant immediately sank back onto his stool and raised the palms of his hands in surrender.

“Well, I guess I should, er...” Collin started.

“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”

We clambered around each other to say good night to our friends, then headed off in opposite directions. Collin back to Rhiannon, and me up to my bed. Alone.

When I couldn’t fall asleep, I called Ada. I tried to detail the last few days, but it was hard to get through more than a sentence without an interruption.

“You jumped off a cliff?” she shouted. “You, Chelsea Gold, jumped off a cliff? Into the sea?”

“Is that really so surprising?” I asked, though we both knew the answer.

“I’m as proud as I am stunned, really,” she said. “I mean, who even are you? First, you move to Ireland, then you jump off a cliff... what’s next?”

“I didn’tmoveto Ireland,” I said. “I just relocated. Temporarily.”

“And how’s the job hunt going?”

“Bleak. Really bleak. But that’s not why I called.”

“Oh, babe, I know why you called,” she said. “Same reason you’ve called the last, like, four times.”

“That is not true.”

“You’re right,” she said. “There hasn’t been another woman the other times.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what? That’s the problem, right? The other woman?”

---