Mismatched (22 page)

“Not even with me? I let ye ride Big Dick, after all.”

My face goes red with his flirting. I thought I could handle anything from any guy, but Donal has superpowers or something because he’s making me feel like a virgin all over again. Thank goodness I have learned as an attorney to hide my emotions well.

“Okay, maybe with you,” I concede, “on account of your Big Dick and everything.”

He laughs so loud, everyone around us looks over. Several of them smile along with us, and it almost makes me sad. They probably think we’re a couple and that we’re in love. I almost wish they were right.

Donal calms himself down and then goes all serious on me. “So, as I said before, I brought ye out here with the intention of apologizin’ and explainin’ myself.”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to. I’m fine with not knowing the details.” I’m worried his story will make me like him more than I already do. It’s better if I can imagine he’s a jerk sometimes for no reason. It’ll make it easier to leave.

“But I want to. Ye see …” He looks off into the distance, and I can see he’s not really here with me anymore. He’s in the past somewhere. “For many years, I looked after a girl.”

“Looked after? What’s that mean?”

His eyes are back on me now. “To be fair, I didn’t just look after her. We were an item for some of that time. But it was more out of my desire than hers. She always had an eye for another fella.”

I snort very inelegantly. “She must have had bad eyesight if she preferred some other guy to you.”

He smiles, a lonely kind of expression. “Thanks for that. In any case, when we weren’t together that way, she still needed a lot of looking after. She had a bit of a problem with depression.”

“Oh. That’s a bummer.” I’m starting to get an uneasy feeling as his face goes dark.

“She was in love with this other lad, as I said, but he was married and he didn’t really treat her very well. She tried to hold on but it was too much for her.”

“What was? The relationship?”

“Not just that. Life, maybe. She went to the Cliffs of Moher and …” He shrugs and looks down into his beer mug. “It was the last I saw of her. The last any of us saw of her.”

My hear lurches. “Oh, that’s terrible.”

“Aye. It was. It still is.”

I put my hand on his and lean in trying to catch his eye. “I’m so sorry, Donal. Really, I am. You must have been so sad.”

“I was and I still am. I will never believe that there was nothing I could do. I just … I didn’t know what to say to her, what to do to make her happy.”

When he finally looks up at me I can see he’s suffering, but he doesn’t cry.

I’m desperate to bring the light back into his eyes. “There’s nothing you can do for depressed people except encourage them to get help. You’re not responsible for the decisions they make.”

“Easy to say, easy enough to hear, but not easy at all to believe in yer heart of hearts when someone ye love has … done what she did.”

I understand. I stand up and grab my coat off my chair. “Come on, Donal. Let’s go take a walk.”

“A walk?”

I nod. “I want to go back to the cliffs with you. Just you and me. We don’t have to talk or do anything. I just want to be there with you.”

He stares at me for the longest time, and then he finally gets up. He doesn’t say a word, he just guides me out of the pub and into his car, and he drives us to the Cliffs of Moher.

I open the door before he has time to change his mind. “Come on, let’s go. I’d like to get there before it’s totally dark.” The sun is setting and we don’t have much daylight left.

He joins me and takes my hand. We stop about twenty feet from the edge nearest us.

“What was her name?” I ask.

“Ciara. She was twenty-two. She died on Valentine’s Day, five years ago.”

“So young,” I whisper, my heart aching for her. I cannot imagine what she must have suffered to make her want to jump from this place to the dark and jagged rocks below. Life is just beginning for a twenty-two year old. I was just there myself, and I know this for a fact.

“I will never forget her,” he says. “Sometimes I go for days or even weeks without thinking of her, and then I’ll see a photograph or hear a song and it all comes back. The moods, the sadness, the desperation.”

“What about the guy? The one she was in love with.”

“I have to convince myself not to kill him with my bare hands at least once a month. We did have one altercation that didn’t end well for him, but I’ll not be sorry for it.”

“You shouldn’t be.” I wrap my arm around his waist and pull him against me. He puts his arm over my shoulders and does the same. We both stare out into the mist and listen to the waves crash against the rocks.

I can’t think of anything profound to say, so I just say what’s in my heart. “If you ever feel like you’re losing that battle, you call me, okay?”

“But ye’ll be in Boston.”

“So what? I’ll be just a phone call or an email away. And if you ever come to Boston, I’ll show you my world.”

“I’ve never been to the United States. I never go anywhere.”

I smile sadly and squeeze him tighter. “Maybe someday you will.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

We stay there for another ten minutes or so and then walk back to the car in silence, just watching the scenery go by as we drive back into Doolin. When we stop in front of Mrs. O’Grady’s I turn to look at Donal. “I had a really nice time. Thank you for taking me out.”

“Ye must think I’m a real nutter, taking you to the cliffs and relivin’ the suicide of an old girlfriend.”

I reach out and put my hand on his cheek. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I don’t think you’re a nutter. I think you’re pretty fantastic, actually.”

A thousand words couldn’t express how I feel right now, so instead of trying I just lean in and kiss him softly on the lips, pulling away before it can get any more involved. I’m already falling for this guy and I’m not in the mood to get my heart trashed over something easily avoided.

“Goodbye, Donal. I hope I see you again one of these days.”

“Goodbye, Ridlee from Boston. It was a true pleasure to have made yer acquaintance.”

I don’t shed a single tear until I’m on the other side of Mrs. O’Grady’s front door and it’s closed behind me. Of course then, I turn on the waterworks and bawl like I just lost the love of my life. Mainly because it feels like I just did.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ERIN

“SO, WHAT DO YOU WANT to do today?” I ask Ridlee, who is lost in thought buttering a piece of toast. She doesn’t answer me but pops a little black pudding on the corner and bites into it. It’s Tuesday morning and we’re in the breakfast room of the B&B. It’s raining — well there’s a surprise …
not!
I look forlornly around the room and then back to my friend, who has been very quiet all morning.

“You’ve changed,” I say. That gets her attention.

“What do you mean?” she asks all serious.

I nod at the black pudding on her toast.

“Oh that. It’s good for the blood.”

“Who told you that?”

“Don… oh, never mind.” She sits up straighter in her chair and flicks her hair over her shoulder. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Just as I’m about to answer, my phone pings. I look at it under the table — an old habit from days gone by when my grandmother’s beady eye could read a private text at ten paces. It’s from
Micheál.

I know you probably have a busy day ahead of you, but could you add me on to your to-do list?

I can’t help but smile.

“What?” asks Ridlee leaning across the table.

“It’s
Micheál. He’s flexting with me.” I punch in my response.

Hey! Stop thinking about me!

“You seeing him today?” Ridlee asks casually.

“I thought that you and I’d be hanging out. You know, last couple of days on the auld sod an’ all. Just the girls...”

“Nah, I gotta finalise the paperwork for the bar deal and as much as I’d love to have you do the grunt work, you’re not capable, so you’re free to go. Don’t worry, though, you’ll be receiving my bill soon enough.” She smiles sweetly.

“You’re in a good mood today,” I say fishing for information. But Ridlee’s not giving anything away. She just smiles serenely and goes back to eating her blood sausage. My phone pings again.

If I were with you right now, what would we be doing?

Dishes for old Mrs. O

Works for me. I’m on my way over.

Spend the day with me.

LOL

There's an old Irish saying that if you make a girl laugh you're halfway up her leg. BCNU ;)

I look up from my phone to Ridlee and ask, “BCNU? What’s that one?”

“Be Seeing You,” Ridlee says. “He’s on his way over. Is that what you’re wearing?” She raises an eyebrow.

I look down at my scruffy pajamas. Mrs. O’Grady’s other guests have all left so we’ve been kinda treating the place like home.

“Shit!” I jump to my feet.

Ridlee looks up from the local paper she’d suddenly become engrossed in.

“Talk to him if he arrives. And be nice!” I yell over my shoulder, sprinting out of the room and taking the stairs two at a time.

“Don’t forget about the Virgin Mary and Mr. Dreamy!” Ridlee shouts even louder.

Meanwhile, I’m upstairs furiously sifting through my meagre wardrobe looking for something that says sexy but effortless chic; I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. I pull out my Victoria’s Secret bra and panties, ‘cause you never know, and then turn to Ridlee’s suitcase. Her clothes are so beautiful and mine are all so blah.

I pick up my phone and text her.
Hi VBF

She responds instantly.
R U CRiUS? Txt ing overseas from upstairs?

DILLIGAS

???

Do I Look LIke I Give A Shit?

???

LOL. Can I wear your clothes?

NO!

Pls Have None of my own

STBY

???

Sucks To Be You ;)

Riddddd-leeeeeyyyyyy!!!! Plssssss?

KYO

Knock Yourself Out?

Bingo!

THX BFF xoxo

XOXO

Well that little interaction probably cost more than lunch, but I’m psyched to have the green light on Ridlee’s wardrobe. I take out a pair of five-hundred-dollar jeans that make my ass look awesome and a Diane Von Furstenberg blouse, cut on the bias, that looks stunning, even if I do say so myself. I shower quickly and get dressed, applying a little make-up for the natural look. My hair, for once, falls in natural waves and barely needs brushing. For the final touch I pull on Ridlee’s Burberry booties and I’m good to go. I feel super sexy in my VS underwear, as though I have a secret weapon.

I race out of the room but pull myself up sharply as I get to the top of the stairs. I walk down casually, even stopping to rearrange the flowers on the middle landing ever so slightly. I can hear a male voice coming from the dining room and then laughter.

I appear at the door, smiling, the only one not in on the joke. Ridlee and
Micheál look up as I enter. Ridlee smiles and nods approvingly at our outfit, But Micheál scrunches his nose, almost distastefully. “Hey there. You look great, but I wouldn’t want you to get your lovely threads dirty coming out for the day with me.” He looks me up and down, but he’s smiling appreciatively.

He, on the other hand, is wearing old jeans and a long sleeved shirt featuring the logo from his shop, Surf n’ Turf. He has working man’s boots on and he looks gorgeous. He face is tanned and his green eyes crinkle when he smiles. I actually feel myself swoon a little.

“What, this old thing?” I ask, pivoting a little so he can appreciate my ass. Dark clouds of alarm pass over Ridlee’s face. Placing myself between her and Micheál, I mouth the words,
Don’t worry
. She still looks concerned, though, so I kiss her quickly on the cheek whispering, “I owe you one!” and then head for the front door.

“One? Ha! I’ll send you a bill for the rest!” She’s laughing. “You kids go have fun now.” This she says with the air of one who has seen it all before.

I gotta say, I’m high as a kite as we climb into Micheál’s truck and head out along the coast road.

“So, where are we going?” I ask, glancing at the cooler in the back seat.

“I thought I’d show ye the shop and then take ye surfing,” he says grinning.

“Surfing?” I ask touching my, for once, perfectly-styled tresses.

“Ye surf, right?”

“Nope,” I answer, all gee whiz, what a pity. Truth be told, the sea kinda scares me. I mean I like walking along the shore, or paddling in the little waves but mounting a wall of water to ride off the end of it on a fibreglass board seems kind of like a death wish behavior to me.
 

“Not to worry, I’ll teach ye.” He keeps his eyes on the road, his mind probably already tasting the salty water of the surf.

“Great. Can’t wait.” I look out at the sea crashing against the rocks. He doesn’t speak, but I don’t do silence all that well. “I didn’t know there was surfing in Ireland. I thought it was too dangerous.” There may still be a way out of this madness and I’m not giving in without a fight.

“Too cold, maybe,” he says, laughing as though he’s just said the funniest thing in the world.

“Ha, ha,” I chime in. There will be no backing out, then. No one will ever accuse Erin O’Neill of cowardice.

We pull into the car park of the shop and go inside. There aren’t many customers, and when Micheál greets the salesperson behind the counter, I see it’s Siobhán.

“Hey, Siobhán, how’s it goin’?” I say, very cool. She’s still kind of intimidating but I know she and Micheál are just friends. Do I still sense a tiny bit of rivalry though? Nah, I’m probably just being paranoid.
 

“Yeah, great, Erin. How ‘bout you?”

“Couldn’t be better.” I smile and nod and have a look around the shop while Micheál and Siobhán talk business. I can see Siobhán showing him a print-out while shaking her head sadly. My gaze wanders. The shop is great; it’s a large space with wooden floors and big windows. They have everything anyone could want to take advantage of the outdoor lifestyle here — surf boards, wind-surfers, kite-surfers, sea kayaks, as well as mountain bikes, rock-climbing equipment and hiking gear. But there are no customers.