O'Mara's

by Michelle Vernal

  ‘Hi, you’re a sight for sore eyes.’ Reaching her, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. How formal, she couldn’t help but think as he said, ‘It’s so good to see you.’ He took a step back and thrust his hands in his pockets eyeing her speculatively. ‘You said you were ready to talk.’

  She managed a watery smile but hesitated to try to find the right words. She’d had no time to rehearse what she wanted to say.

  Marcus cut to the chase forcing her hand. ‘Have you had time to think about what I said?’ The anticipation of her expected response flickered in his eyes.

  For a moment Aisling wobbled. He’d hurt her, but she had no wish to do the same to him. This wasn’t a case of tit for tat. ‘I’ve done nothing but.’ There was no point in playing games, she breathed in sharply. ‘Marcus, I’m sorry. We can’t go back. It won’t work.’

  For a brief second he looked as though he’d been slapped. It was clearly not what he’d expected to hear. ‘But I love you Ash.’

  He looked like a lost little boy, and it wasn’t easy to summon what needed to be said. ‘I loved you too but you don’t love me Marcus. Not properly. You love who you want me to be.’ The past tense slipped easily from her mouth because she knew it was true. Somewhere along the line this last year she’d moved on. She just hadn’t known it.

  She wanted to be the girl she’d been before Dad died, and she met Marcus. She wanted to be the girl who bought shoes on a whim again, okay maybe not Louboutin’s, but she’d find a compromise. She wanted to take dance classes and leave her inhibitions at the door. She wanted to throw her head back and laugh from deep down inside her belly. She never laughed like that with Marcus, he’d have found it loud and embarrassing. Quinn didn’t, he found it infectious joining in with her. This wasn’t about him though.

  There were no rewind buttons in life. She couldn’t go back, she couldn’t change Dad not being here. Nor could she undo the rippling effect grief had, but she could be a new version of her old self. The only way to do that was to keep moving forward.

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘I know, but you will. We weren’t right for each other Marcus, we’re too different. You say ‘tomato’, I say ‘tomahto’.’ She put her hand to her mouth where on earth had the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers lyric come from. Alasdair sprang to mind.

  It had gone over Marcus’s head. He was looking at the sycamore leaves settling around his feet. He raised his gaze to meet Aisling’s, she didn’t flinch. ‘You mean it don’t you?’

  ‘I do. I won’t be changing my mind Marcus.’

  ‘There’s nothing else to say then is there.’

  She shook her head a lump forming in her throat. ‘Only that I wish you well.’ She meant it. It felt good to finally let go of the anger she’d kept such a tight hold of this past year.

  He reached out and touched her face, his fingers brushing the same spot where his lips had grazed her cheek in greeting. ‘I wish you all the best too Ash. No more saying I’m sorry.’

  ‘No more.’

  ‘Well that’s something.’ His smile was sad.

  ‘Goodbye Marcus.’

  She turned and walked away not wanting him to see her tears as she strode back down the path.

  Dear Aisling

  Today, I said goodbye to my ex-fiancé. He wanted us to try again, but I blamed him for calling our wedding off and leaving me in the lurch. I can see now he did me a favour. We weren’t meant to be together. We’re, too different. So not going back was the right thing to do. The thing is I don’t know how to move on from the person I’ve loved all along. How can I switch off my feelings for someone who’s only ever seen me as a friend?

  Yours faithfully

  Me

  ͠

  Quinn marched up the stairs to the first-floor studio. He’d phoned ahead, and the Lozano’s were expecting him. He was pulling out all the stops, he wasn’t going to lose Aisling a second time to Marcus. If this all blew up in his face, at least he knew he’d given it his best shot.

  Chapter 39

  Reception was quiet when Aisling stepped back inside the guest house. There was no sign of Mammy. Bronagh, barely visible above the desk and with a Custard cream halfway to her mouth read her mind.

  ‘Maureen left twenty minutes ago. She had a painting class she needed to get back for. Oh, and Quinn phoned while you were out too.’ For no reason Aisling could fathom other than Bronagh having said his name, she giggled. ‘He left a message, said it was very important you get it.’

  Aisling was curious. She took the piece of paper Bronagh handed her and read it with a frown. He wanted her to meet him at seven pm at the Lozano’s Dance Studio. There was no explanation as to why. She folded the slip of paper and sighed—what a day this one was turning out to be.

  ‘Isn’t that the place you did the salsa class, where you met you know who?’

  ‘It is. I only went the once, and I have no idea why Quinn would want to meet there. Maybe I’ll give him a call.’ She wasn’t in the mood for cryptic messages.

  ‘Ah well now, he also said if you mentioned calling him to try to find out what he was up to, I was to tell you not to. He said and I’m quoting, ‘Tell her it’s a surprise and a surprise can only be a surprise if she doesn’t know what it is.’’

  Aisling’s frown deepened, what was he up to?

  Bronagh’s eagle eye noted the smudge of mascara beneath Aisling’s eyes and she put her Custard cream down. ‘Is everything alright?’

  ‘It’s going to be, so long as you pass me one of those Custard creams.’

  ‘What Custard creams?’

  ‘Don’t play innocent with me. The packet you keep in your drawer.’

  ‘They’re for emergencies only but looking at the state of yer, I’d say you qualify. Pull up a chair and tell me what’s been going on.’

  Aisling did as she was told thinking Bronagh must have an awful lot of emergencies as she helped herself to a biscuit. When she got to the part where she’d told Marcus there was no going back. Bronagh clapped her hands and said she could have the rest of the packet.

  Somehow, she managed to fill the day, her eyes straying to the clock every so often, counting down the hours. Her mind kept drifting to the different scenarios as to what Quinn was up to as she tried to run through the accounts. With a sigh she put them aside, they could wait until tomorrow, she’d only make a mess of them if she kept at it today. In the end she figured he’d booked them back into the dance classes after their conversation at dinner last night. It made sense but what didn’t make sense was the secrecy.

  Moira breezing in after work was a welcome diversion.

  ‘God, I was knackered today, after you and Mammy’s carry on last night.’ She flopped down on the sofa kicking her runners off. ‘I kept putting calls through to the wrong person and I got caught with my gob full of egg sandwich by Aiden O’Dwyer.’

  ‘Aiden O’Dwyer’s one of Mason Price’s clients?’ She had Aisling’s attention, the man had starred in several Hollywood blockbusters. He was blue eyed, square jawed, dark haired and always played damaged sort of people.

  ‘Ah, he’s not all that great. He needed a shave and he was wearing green joggers. Green for feck’s sake and it’s not even St Paddy’s. But still, it was embarrassing the sanger got stuck on the roof of my mouth and I couldn’t get my words out properly. He’d have thought me a right eejit.’

  Aisling grinned at the picture painted.

  Moira was moving on in her usual hurricane Moira manner. ‘You haven’t seen the dress I bought to wear to Posh Mairead’s bash yet have you?’ She didn’t wait for a reply bouncing off the sofa. ‘I’ll put it on and give you a twirl.’

  She reappeared a few minutes later and strutted her stuff through the living room. The dress was a clinging, deep cerise with spaghetti straps which finished just above her knees. It was sexy but not in an overt way and Aisling gave a low whistle.

  ‘Wow Moira, you look gorgeous.’

  ‘Shelbourne
Gorgeous?’

  ‘Savoy, Ritz, Four Seasons gorgeous.’

  ͠

  Dinner was a hit and miss affair of heated up leftover Chinese. Aisling wasn’t hungry. The half pack of Custard creams had seen to that besides she was too fidgety and antsy to eat. She hadn’t mentioned Quinn’s message to Moira knowing she’d be in for a derisive snort at the mention of salsa. She did however inform her as to what she’d said to Marcus earlier in the day.

  To her surprise Moira hugged her long and hard. ‘I knew you weren’t a total eejit.’ Now, that was the Moira she knew and loved!

  ‘I’m heading out to meet Quinn at seven. Will I leave it to you to tell Mammy and Roisin, Marcus won’t be around anymore?’ Aisling said as she headed toward her bedroom.

  Moira looked delighted by the prospect as she nodded enthusiastically then registering what she’d said about meeting Quinn, ‘Do you know Ash I’ve always thought Quinn had the glad eye for you.’

  It was Aisling who paused and gave the derisive snort. ‘No way. We’re friends that’s all.’

  Moira let it be, eager to begin burning up the phone lines with her breaking news.

  Aisling stared into her wardrobe. The red dress or the LBD? She held both out and opted for the red, Moira said it gave her a look of a short Nicole Kidman. As for the shoes, she chose her Valentino sling back sandals. They were made for dancing. Ignoring her sister’s raised eyebrows she swept through the living room and out the front door. She could imagine the turn the conversation she was having had just taken ‘Rosie you want to see the state of her, she’s in the red dress. Yes, the shag-me, short Nicole Kidman one. And... she’s meeting Quinn!’

  Chapter 40

  Aisling slammed the taxi door shut and stared up at the building. The first floor was in darkness. She knew she wasn’t early, not by more than a couple of minutes. She’d left O’Mara’s at six forty-five and the traffic had been moving freely. Quinn wouldn’t let her down she knew that, so she crossed the street and opened the door. At least the light in the stairwell was on, and she climbed them hearing movement above her. Someone was up there then.

  Maybe it was a new thing salsa in the dark, she pushed open the door expecting to find a few people at least milling about. The room however was empty, save for a table draped with a white cloth, a candle flickering in the middle of it. It was laid for two. Her eyes swung to the trolley next to it not understanding. There were several silver tureens and a champagne bucket with a bottle on ice. What an earth was going on?

  ‘Quinn?’ she called.

  Seemingly from thin air a fast Latino beat erupted and Quinn emerged from the shadows. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dim light and her jaw dropped. This was a version of Quinn she’d never seen before. He was wearing a black open-necked shirt and dress pants as he moved toward her in a cha-cha of triple step forward, right foot back.

  Aisling stared in amazement before throwing her head back and laughing. She sobered a beat later as he reached her, and they stood in front of one another. His grin disappeared too and was replaced by something she couldn’t fathom.

  How was she supposed to be? This was Quinn. The man she’d known since she was eighteen years old. The man she’d hankered after who’d never once looked at her the way he was looking at her now. She could see the question in his eyes as he held his hands out to her. The only sign he was laying it on the line in the slight tremor as she stared at them. They were strong hands, creative hands and if she took them she’d step off into the unknown. Aisling took a deep breath and grasped hold of them as tight as she could. He pulled her in toward him.

  Surely, he must be able to feel her heart thumping, be aware of how the warmth of his chest against hers was liquefying her insides. She tilted her head to look up at him, searching for clues she was reading this right and he was about to kiss her. She decided to be bold and on her tippy toes she sought his lips as he leaned down to find hers, grazing the side of each other’s mouths by mistake. That’s what happened when old friends crossed a line, Aisling’s face was hot but Quinn, just laughed. It made her laugh, he made her laugh, he, always had.

  ‘Shall we try again?’ he asked. ‘See if we can get it right this time?’

  She nodded.

  This time their lips found each other and as Aisling melted in to him she knew she’d gotten her happy ending, after all.

  Before you go don’t forget to leave a review! You can hear more about characters and books in The Guesthouse on the Green series by subscribing to Michelle’s newsletter via her website: www.michellevernalbooks.com

  Moira Lisa Smile

  Book 2, The Guesthouse on the Green - Available for pre-order from December 11, 2018

  A GIRL WITH A MONA Lisa smile, a woman who wants to confront her demons and that pesky red fox...

  Take a break you’ll never forget at O’Mara’s Manor House with Moira Lisa, Book 2 in the fresh new series - The Guest House on the Green where a full Irish breakfast is always included!

  Moira O’Mara’s developed an annoyingly enigmatic, Mona Lisa smile of late when it comes to talking about her new man. She’s not ready to share him with her family, not just because they treat her like a baby. Look at the way they go on at her about her drinking? It’s not a problem, she likes a party, who doesn’t? No, he’s her secret, and for now, it has to stay that way, but keeping secrets can be hard and knowing when you’ve gone too far can be even harder.

  When Tessa Delaney was a teenager, her family left Dublin behind, emigrating to New Zealand. She was glad to leave behind the bully who tormented her school days. She knows only too well the old saying of sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me isn’t true. She’s booked into the guesthouse determined to confront her teenage years and erase those words for good.

  Meanwhile, the little red fox who raids the bins outside O’Mara’s basement kitchen door at night is waiting, ready to pounce when Mrs Flaherty tosses out a nice sausage or sliver of white pudding.

  Witty, sad, and insightful with a touch of romance. Come and stay at O’Mara’s.