Page 64 of An Irish Summer

“I don’t know any of the dances.”

“You don’t have to. There’s a caller who’s going to tell you what to do.”

“I’m a lost cause.”

“I’m sure someone will make sure you’re just fine,” she said, raising her brows and glancing down the hall from my room. “What kind of first date would it be if he didn’t?”

“Remind me why I told you it was a date?”

“Because you were so excited you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Not quite how I remember it.” I laughed, recalling how Flo had begged me to tell her every little thing that happened as soon as we left the variety show.

“I’m too happy you’ve both decided to give it a shot to care,” she said. “You make a hot couple.”

“I’m not sure we’re a couple. Does a summer fling qualify as a relationship?”

“Stop overthinking it,cara. You’ll enjoy it less. And the whole purpose is to enjoy, no?”

“You’re right,” I groaned. “I just happen to be great at overthinking. And terrible at casual flings. You guys are all much better at this than I am.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’re all so used to everyone coming and going, aren’t you? You leave home, you meet new people, they leave, and everyone moves on. Everybody here seems to have a much more casual view of relationships in general.”

“Look around,” she said, gesturing vaguely at my room. “This looks a lot like coming and going and meeting and leaving and moving on to me. You might be more like us than you think,tesoro.”

I did look around, struggling to come to grips with the fact she might be right. “Even if I am like you guys, I’m not nearly as good at it.”

“Suddenly going back to Boston isn’t so easy?”

“I didn’t say that.”Out loud, anyway.

“You didn’t have to,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“So stop looking at me.”

She rolled her eyes, and we both laughed despite ourselves.

“All I’m saying, Chels, is that it’s okay if part of you changes while you’re out here. Hell, it’s okay if all of you changes while you’re out here. Ireland has a way of doing that to people. And it’s more than okay to indulge a little. Pleasure doesn’t have to be logical, you know.”

I opened my mouth, but she raised her hands in surrender, saving me from having to think of a response. “That’s all I’m saying,” she said again, and I nodded. Duly noted. I had a feeling I’d be pondering these words until my time at the Wanderer came to an end. And maybe even after that.

“Now,” she said, grabbing my hands and looking from my head to my toes. “Are we ready?”

“You’re the ceilidh expert,” I said. “You tell me.”

“Me? The Italian? Please. Let’s get the real ceilidh expert in here.”

“Flo, plea—”

“Collin!” she yelled down the hall. “Coll? Come in here!”

“Florence,” I said.

“What? You were going to see him as soon as we went downstairs to leave, anyway.”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t going to approve of my appearance first.”

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