Page 47 of An Irish Summer

“What would I do without you?”

“Doesn’t matter, because we’re never going to have to find out,” she said.

“Thanks, Ada.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “I’m not going to let up until you get out there and do something bold, so.”

“Can’t I do, like, baby steps? Work my way up to bold?”

“You lost that privilege when you moved to Ireland and jumped off a cliff. Sorry, babe.”

I moaned but said nothing. There was no arguing with Ada, and in a way, she was right. I’d been bold before. I could do it again, couldn’t I?

But right now I was exhausted, so bold Chelsea would have to wait until tomorrow.

After ending my call with Ada, I grabbed my toiletries and headed to the bathroom, planning to get ready for bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. I felt myself winding down, until I heard his voice while I was washing my face.

“Figured you’d be asleep by now.”

I wiped the cleanser from my eyes, acutely aware that doing so probably made me look like a child who forgot her goggles at the swimming pool.

“And I figured you’d still be at the bar.”

“Couple more drinks and this lot would have been making a proper holy show,” he said, stretching his arms over his head just enough to expose a sliver of his stomach. “Couldn’t be arsed to stay around for that tonight.”

“A holy show?”

“A scene,” he explained. “Though after your performance at Blackrock, I’d think you’d know a thing or two about a holy show.”

“I did not make a scene,” I said.

“Aye, I have to disagree with ya there, Chels. It was quite charming though, I have to say.”

“Does charming have a different meaning here than it does at home?” I was hoping he would say yes and that an insult might stop the heat spreading across my chest, but I should have known better.

“Hardly,” he said. He looked at his watch, which obscured a tattoo of what looked like a key that intrigued me every time I caught a glimpse. “What’s keeping you up, then?”

“Just catching up with my best friend from home,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t probe.

“Did ya tell her how much you’re loving Galway? How much the Wanderer has changed your life?”

“No,” I said, “because I’m a terrible liar.”

“Looks like I’m going to have to try harder,” he said. “Might have to really start making my case.”

“Seemed to be working for Rhiannon,” I said. It took everything in me not to cover my mouth with my hand, willing the words back inside. He laughed, rubbing his hand over the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “That was... I don’t know what that was.”

“Lucky woman, you are,” he said, joining me at the sink. “Even jealousy looks good on you.” He turned the water on and started washing his face before I had a chance to respond, so I had to raise my voice over the faucet.

“I’m not jealous.”

“I can’t hear you,” he said, face still in the sink. I crossed my arms and waited, only to be jarred by how good he looked when he was finished. The water turned his lashes dark and heavy, and the usually wild strands of hair in the front were slicked back from his face. He looked like he did after platform jumping, when he was inches from my face,wide-eyed, his hands on my hips under the water like a secret passing between us.

“You were saying?” he asked, leaning back on the counter.

“I’m not jealous,” I repeated. “I was just making an observation.”

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