by Charish Reid
And he loved his niece dearly. Soircha was a smart girl who shared his interest in reading and writing. She was definitely more interesting than his older brother’s sons, Freddie and Donnie, who were growing up to become a couple of hooligans. “Just know that I’ll be busy with the conference on Thursday, but I should be available after that. Any idea on how long you two need to stay with me?”
“Just a night or two. But you’d know that, if you and your brothers didn’t communicate through smoke signals.”
He needed to get on the road. “Yes, fine. I’ll call Sean as soon as possible.”
“And do be patient with Soircha,” Clare said after a sip of her tea. “Sean and Mary have complained about her moody behavior lately. Maybe you two can commiserate on how awful it is to be bookish.”
He rolled his eyes. “Jayus...”
“I’m telling you this—” his mother lowered her voice and knelt closer to her screen “—because she might be starting her curse. She’s at the age, y’know.”
Aiden laughed. “Mam, why in the hell are you whispering?” There was nothing like his mother’s Catholic prudishness. “Also, I don’t think they call it a curse anymore.”
“Well, if you had ’em, you’d think it were a curse too. Thank the saints, I haven’t got that to worry about.”
“Alright then. So when you and Soircha show up on Friday, I’ll need to have a box of tampons at the house?”
“Dear me, please don’t tell the child you know!”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, mother. But for now, I do have to go.”
“Fine, but remember this: Lisa was a snob and you’re better off without her. Everyone thought so.”
“Who’s ‘everyone’?”
“All of your brothers. No one liked her,” Claire replied. “What do you expect from a rich Dublin girl? The whole lot of ’em are lace curtains, you know that?”
“It would have been nice if ‘everyone’ were more honest about my girlfriends.”
“It was hard to tell if you were truly serious about her. You both seemed like roommates.”
“I had the same realization,” he said. “I’m worried about my judgement.”
“We have to learn from our mistakes, Aiden. But you’ll soon find someone who suits you. And when you do, you can have your own little Soircha.”
A smile cracked his face. He did want a family. When he looked at his brothers, he felt like he was missing something in his own life. He wanted a wife and children to fill his world. Aiden worried that he was the one son who was turning into his wandering father, a man who couldn’t handle commitment. “I’m not too much like Da, am I?” he asked his mother.
Her expression softened. “Oh Aiden, you’re the lovely parts of Liam. You got his handsome looks, his charm and craic. But the rest, you got from the Hannigan side.”
Aiden didn’t know why he needed to hear her affirmations so badly. At thirty-eight, he wondered if he was getting too set in his ways, not making any concessions for another person in his life. He had to take his mother at her word since she was the most honest person he knew. But the nagging thought still lingered. “Thanks, Mam.”
Clare gave a quick nod. “Well, you take care on the road, will you?”
He put his phone in its hands-free holder. “Of course, I’m just making a quick stop in Clifden for groceries before I get to Tully Cross. No more than a couple of hours.”
“Fine then,” she said. “Call me when you get there.”
Aiden glanced at the dashboard clock. “How about I send you a text instead?”
She arched a brow. “My stubborn little clam.”
He rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Mam.” He gave a quick wave before switching her off and turning his GPS on. If he was going to collect his keys before nightfall, he needed to haul-ass immediately. A week of rest in the country awaited him.
Chapter Seven
“No, no, please don’t tell me this,” Antonia pleaded with the hotel receptionist. She was exhausted after a six-hour flight to Shannon Airport and a long, confusing drive to Clifden. The rental car was a manual-shift that stalled out every time she came to a stop. The only reason she’d reserved it was because it was cheaper and she had assumed Derek would drive the entire trip. And now this young bright-eyed brunette was telling her she had no room. Ireland was quickly feeling like a mistake. “I checked on this reservation last night. No, not last night, I was on a plane. What day is it?”
The receptionist, her name tag read “Breda,” gave a pitying smile. “It’s Thursday and I’m truly very sorry, Mrs. Rogers—”
“—No, not Mrs. Rogers,” Antonia interrupted. “I didn’t marry, I mean, I know I made the reservation under that. But...” She knew what she must have sounded like. A single woman showing up to a hotel suite meant for a newlywed couple. The young woman, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, simply nodded her head.
“Of course, Ms. Harper?” she said checking her credit card once more. “Your reservation was canceled yesterday evening. Mr. Rogers called and said your stay wouldn’t be necessary.”
“He called?” Antonia bit back her anger as she clenched the counter. “You mean he actually called you and canceled our—my reservation?”
Breda nodded. “I’m afraid that is the case. Your room is now gone.”
Antonia was seething. How could he do something so low-down and dirty like that? The last conversation she had with him was a stressful one, but he gave no indication that he would pull this kind of stunt. After news of the canceled wedding had circulated to all their guests, Derek had called her on the night before her trip, making a last attempt to keep her in the country so they could talk. She told him she would still take their honeymoon trip, by herself, and didn’t want to hear anymore. She’d even done the polite thing of mailing his engagement ring back to him. Did he want to get back at her by throwing a wrench in her plans? Antonia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Do not let this asshole thwart you again. When she opened her eyes, she struggled to smile. “None of this is your fault, Breda. But could you please, pretty please, just help me out? This is my first day in Ireland, my car is an absolute piece of shit, and I’m so tired.”
Breda’s eyebrows furrowed. “I understand, Ms. Harper. But my hands are tied. The Renvyle Oyster Festival is this weekend, that’s why everything is so busy.” She paused, taking pity on Antonia’s ragged appearance. “I can check with surrounding hotels for something.”
Antonia was grateful for the courtesy. “You don’t know how helpful that is. I would really appreciate it.”
Breda gave her the same sympathetic smile as she returned to her computer and started making phone calls. Antonia found a seat in the small lobby and lamented the thought of going anywhere else. She had specifically picked this quaint little hotel because it was centrally located within Clifden. She had planned to walk down the street to a café that sold fresh-baked scones, for coffee and people watching. As she sank into the lobby couch, her spirits followed. This was supposed to be her romantic and rustic Irish honeymoon with her future husband. Her second best chance of enjoying this trip was pretending that she could do it all by herself. Derek managed to fuck that up too.
As she began to lose all confidence in herself, Antonia was reminded that she had never gone abroad by herself. The last time she’d left the country was when she was in college. She did a summer program in Rome and thoroughly enjoyed herself, but she had been with a large group of students and a couple of professors. Ireland was more daunting than she imagined. She’d stumbled her way through airport customs before she presented her passport to an elderly agent. Antonia had been the only black person in line and wondered if that was somehow suspicious. The man had waved her on after she eventually made up her mind on if her trip was business or pleasure. “It’s a mixture of pleasure and novel writing,” she’d tol
d him with a nervous laugh. “So it’s kind of business?” She’d stopped short of telling him that she was also trying to find herself.
Antonia glanced around at the empty lobby with its warm fireplace and plush furniture and wondered how many black people she’d actually meet in Ireland. Probably not too many. She forgot to do that kind of research when she planned the trip. Derek had his reservations about going, citing that they should just go to Dublin where there was more to do. And when they got tired of that, they could just go to London. Shedd Aquarium and Western Ireland were her only real wedding decisions. Did I make a mistake?
“Ms. Harper?” called a voice behind her. Antonia was jerked out of her thoughts and promptly stood.
“Yes. Could you find anything?”
“I did,” Breda said pulling out a map. “I just didn’t find anything in Clifden.”
“Oh no,” she breathed. “How far away?”
“It’s only thirty minutes away,” the young woman said, proud of her discovery. “There’s a small village named Tully Cross that has beautiful rental cottages. It appears only one of the six have been booked, so you’re in luck. The price is comparable to your stay here and you’ll have more amenities, like a full kitchen.”
Antonia studied the map labeled Renvyle Peninsula and sighed. “Tully Cross? A village?”
“Yes, and it’s only thirty minutes away. I’m afraid it was the only thing available. Again, this area gets very busy with the Renvyle Oyster Festival.”
“Right, that’s why I picked these dates,” Antonia said, trying her best to keep the irritation from her voice.
“It’s a very exciting festival,” Breda said with a bright smile.
Antonia returned to the map. “Could you talk me through this drive?”
“Of course,” Breda said, snaking her ink pen around the curvy coastline. “You will take N59 to a town called Letterfrack, a town where I used to live! Oh, and just so you know, Letterfrack is where the nearest grocery store is located. Unfortunately, it’s nearly 5 p.m. and they’re known to close early. I think you might want to get your food here.”
Antonia was inching closer to a panic attack. “Okay.”
“So anyway, when you get to Letterfrack, you’ll take a right to get on the Connemara Loop. It will take you directly to Tully Cross. Now if you’ve gone to Tully, then you’ve gone too far.”
Antonia rubbed the space between her eyes. “There’s a village called Tully Cross and there’s a town called Tully?”
“It’s also a small village,” Breda said. “Tully Cross is very small, but I don’t think you’ll miss it. The main street has a church, a pub, and a hotel on one side—”
“—And that hotel is all booked up?”
“Yes, it is. It’s a very lovely place, but so are the cottages. Anyway, the cottages are on the other side of the main street. They’re lined up in a row.”
Antonia paused for a think. “Okay, I think I’ve got it. Go up N59 until I hit Letterfrack and take a right on to the...what kind of loop?”
“The Connemara Loop,” Breda said. “I’ve marked it all on this map.”
This was the moment where Antonia would have to test her resolve. If she could do this, perhaps the rest of the trip wouldn’t be a complete shit-show. “Alright, I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Breda said with full support. “I do hope that you have a lovely time in Tully Cross.”
The kindness that this young woman exuded startled Antonia. She wasn’t used to people in the service industry caring about mix-ups like this. In Chicago, people could be as cold and distant as the wind their city was known for. She smiled back at Breda. Tully Cross may not have been what she had in mind, but she was lucky it was an option. A “thirty-minutes-away” option, but something nonetheless. “Thank you so much for your help, Breda.”
“Of course, Ms. Harper. Enjoy your stay in Ireland.”
Antonia grabbed her two suitcases and wheeled them out the door, casting another regretful glance at the lobby as she went. She would follow Breda’s advice and stop at the SuperValu she’d spotted on her way into town. If she wanted to eat tonight, she had better stock up now. When she found her car on the street, Antonia drew her jacket closer to her. Even in June, western Ireland was still a little chilly from the Atlantic air. Derek would certainly hate this. As she loaded her bags in the trunk, Antonia smiled to herself. The weather was as moody and dramatic as she imagined. To her, the clouds forming overhead were a beautiful sign that things might not be so terrible.
Chapter Eight
The goddamn Renvyle Oyster Festival.
Aiden pushed his shopping cart past two rowdy children, who rolled around the floor of the dairy aisle, grabbing butter as he went. He had forgotten all about the festival that made Clifden and the surrounding area fill up with visitors. The masses gathered here every June to partake in fresh seafood offerings. The SuperValu was a madhouse just as people were getting off from work. He glanced at his watch again to see it was close to 5 p.m. If he wanted to pick up his cottage keys from the front office, he’d have to hurry this shopping excursion along. With his head still down, he rounded the corner and was met with resistance as he crashed carts with another shopper.
“Jaysus, I’m sorry,” he said, looking up. His breath caught in his throat. Staring back at him was the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long time.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. Her large dark eyes widened in embarrassment. A lovely deep blush crept up her neck and settled into her cinnamon brown cheeks. She was tall and slender, but possessed a generous hourglass shape. The black ankle-boots she wore added another inch making her statuesque. She dressed in simple black leggings and a cropped brown leather jacket. It hung open revealing a clingy gray sweater.
Aiden’s gaze snapped back to her face. It was rude to stare, and the way he stared was probably downright lascivious. “It’s my fault,” he admitted. “I wasn’t minding my cart. Are you alright?”
Her face broke into a beautiful grin, her lips full and inviting. “I’m fine, but while I have you...”
Yes, you have me.
Aiden drifted back to taking her in. He was mesmerized by her hair. It was huge and flowing with loose black curls that framed her oval face. One of those curls fell carelessly down her forehead, making Aiden grip his cart tighter. He wanted to push that curl aside and kiss her.
“...maybe you can tell me where I could find the yogurt.”
“I’m sorry?”
Her dark eyes twinkled with laughter. “Do you know where I could find the yogurt?”
Aiden couldn’t remember anything about the layout of the SuperValu; where he’d gone or where he was going, before seeing her face. “Yogurt?”
“Back that way,” said the mother of the two rowdy boys. She pulled one of the towheaded children by the jacket while the other hung off the cart.
“Oh, thank you!” The gorgeous woman started off in the direction that Aiden had come from. “Sorry again, for hitting you,” she said to him.
“No worries,” he said, mentally kicking himself. He knew damn well where the yogurt was. Aiden looked over his shoulder, his eyes following her as she navigated through the crowd of shoppers. Just as he suspected, she was just as sexy from behind. With several more items on his shopping list, he wondered if he would run into her again. She’d disappeared around the corner, minding her own business, just as he should have done. Aiden pushed forward, mourning his sudden loss of speech.
When he reached the paper towels, he threw paper plates and plastic cutlery in his basket. No sense in doing dishes if he didn’t have to. He paused in the paper goods aisle and debated if he needed some salmon or if he needed to follow the woman he crashed into. The fish was a given, he’d get that momentarily, but that woman... She would be easy to spot again. As far as Aiden could tell, she was the only
black woman in the store. She sounded American too, her voice throaty and warm with no discernable trace of a European or African accent. There wasn’t a point to wondering all of this if she was staying in Clifden. She was probably shopping for her and her boyfriend. They would probably enjoy the weekend’s festivities, hugged up in an adorable B&B. Get a hold of yourself!
Aiden walked through a fog to get several frozen shepherd’s pies and pizzas, before grabbing a bag of crisps. The smoked salmon he chucked into his cart would be the healthiest thing in there. Where’s the brown bread?
Aiden didn’t see the woman when he made it to the checkout line. Perhaps that was for the best. Getting to Tully Cross before dark was more important. The sooner he could unpack, the sooner he could set up shop at the local pub and catch up with the villagers. The lines were alarmingly long and he had the misfortune to park right behind the oldest woman in the world. He closed his eyes and asked St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things and the elderly, to help him find his patience for her. Something hard bumped against his ass and he heard a light chuckle. He opened his eyes and turned around. To see her.
Thank you, St. Anthony.
“I did that on purpose,” said the beautiful yogurt woman.
Aiden’s breath escaped in laughter. “Fair play,” he said.
“I found my yogurt, among other things,” she said, putting her items on the line behind his partition. She glanced at his groceries and frowned. “But I forgot the frozen pizza.”
Aiden looked at his items. It must have looked bad. Two bottles of whiskey, crisps, and dozens of frozen items. But for all she knew, he was having a party. A party for one. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Goodfella’s thin crust margherita pizza.” For fuck sake...
She laughed another one of those light breezy chuckles. “I already regret not stopping by the frozen aisle, please don’t make it worse.”
“You’re welcome to one of mine,” he offered and immediately cringed at the sound of his own voice. “I mean, if not having frozen pizza might ruin your night, don’t let it be on my account.”
