by Sophie Love
“I’ve been thinking about how much it will suck when we say goodbye,” Shane said.
Goodbye. That’s where Shane’s mind was going. Not to long-distance dating or keeping in touch via video messaging. Not even arranging a date in the future when they could meet again. He’d gone straight to the cold, hard finality of goodbye.
“Yeah, I guess it would be unrealistic to even think about dating once I’ve gone,” Keira said, brushing her hair behind her ear, trying to appear nonchalant when she was feeling anything but. “I mean, there’s the whole Atlantic Ocean in the way.”
Shane’s hand on hers squeezed tighter. “Well, that didn’t stop your forefathers, did it?”
Keira wasn’t in the mood for a joke. She’d been getting far too wrapped up in playing boyfriends and girlfriends for her own good. But like always, Shane seemed to just be seeing the funny side.
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Keira removed her hand from beneath his. It was an awkward gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Shane.
“Keira, I’m saying if people crossed the Atlantic in boats, we can do it in planes. What’s seven hours in this day and age? We can view the flight as an opportunity to binge watch TV shows.”
But it was a little too late for his words to comfort her. Even if Shane did want this to keep going on, even if the thought of long hours airborne didn’t bother him, how on earth would they afford it? Neither was particularly rich. On her current income she could probably shell out for one trip to Ireland to see him a year. It would the same, if not worse, for him.
“I don’t know if even binging on TV can save this,” she said glumly.
Shane looked at her with an aching look in his eyes. “You sound like you’re giving up.”
“No,” Keira said, shaking her head. “I’m just being realistic.”
“I can think of another word instead of realistic,” Shane said. “How about unadventurous. Boring.”
“Charming,” Keira muttered.
But she knew Shane was just teasing her because he was smirking. But she just couldn’t feel amused.
“Keira, we’re both young enough. We shouldn’t be thinking about how realistic or logical our decisions are. I’d rather spend every cent I have flying across the world to see you than save up for a pension or anything as boring as that. Come on, cheer up.” He grinned at her encouragingly. “Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it, yeah?”
Keira could feel a lump in her throat. Though she half agreed with what Shane was saying, she couldn’t help the sudden sense of finality that had taken hold of her. It had come in a wave, as if she’d left her mind behind and it had suddenly caught up with her.
Not wanting to cry in front of Shane, Keira excused herself then to use the restroom, leaving her bag with him. In the mirror, she stared at herself, wondering what she had let herself get into. On one hand it was thrilling. Throwing caution to the wind was empowering. But on the other hand she felt like she was setting herself up for a fall. That she was foolish, and had been unwise in her decision to let things progress so much with Shane. This couldn’t end well, could it? Then again, nothing really lasted forever. Maybe the finiteness was part of the appeal. He’d never get a chance to see her crazy, nor she his. It could stay this close to perfect for its duration.
Steeling herself, Keira left the restroom and returned to the table. When she got back she discovered that her laptop was out on the table.
“What are you doing?” she asked, shocked, rushing toward Shane.
“I just wanted to see what you’d been writing,” he replied innocently.
Keira snapped the lid shut. “Well, don’t. It’s private!”
“How can it be private?” he said, laughing. “You’re publishing it for the world to read.”
But Keira didn’t see the funny side. Shane had come far too close to catching her out. It rattled her.
“Yeah, once it’s been edited,” Keira replied. “I don’t want you seeing it in its first draft state.”
It was half a lie. Though her first drafts were indeed embarrassingly awful, her main reason was because she didn’t want Shane to see what she’d written. Without an explanation, and taken out of context, it would paint her in a pretty bad light. Come to think of it, even with an explanation it made her look awful.
“Besides, it’s for a very specific audience. Are you an unmarried American in the twenty-four to thirty-four bracket? No? Didn’t think so.”
She sat down with a huff, folding her arms.
“I’m sorry,” Shane said, clearly picking up on the fact he’d upset her. “I won’t snoop again. I was just curious. You’re always so busy I just wanted to see what with. I mean you’ve seen me play the fiddle but I haven’t seen so much as a single sentence you’ve written. And you’ve seen me doing my tour guiding job. I’d love to see you in your reporter role.”
“Maybe another time,” Keira said stiffly.
They finished their food, their mood more somber than it had been when they’d come. Keira felt terribly guilty for her part in it. If she wasn’t such a snake with so much to hide, Shane wouldn’t have actually done anything wrong at all.
They headed back to Lisdoonvarna in the car. This time Keira kept her phone with her. The laptop incident was far too close for comfort. What if Nina messaged her an edited sentence, or some feedback on something cruel she’d said. If Shane saw her words she’d feel terrible.
They arrived back at the town and Keira parked. When they entered the B&B, they saw that Orin had finally decided to make a reappearance. He looked a bit uncomfortable as he glanced at them both, but he was as friendly as ever.
“Drinks?” he asked.
“Bit early for me,” Keira said. “And I’ve got some edits to work on. I’ll just settle in the corner with my laptop. You two go ahead.”
As Orin poured a pint for himself and one for Shane, Keira increased the distance between them. She felt so terrible about double crossing everyone that it was almost unbearable to share in their revelry. Had she let herself get carried away with the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing? When Shane was just a sexy guy she had the hots for, things were a bit more simple. At least she didn’t feel like she owed him anything, like honesty. The thought turned her stomach.
Keira looked through Nina’s last email, which contained edits for the piece she’d sent that morning. To her relief, it was good news. Joshua actually liked it and wanted her to carry on in that same way.
“Did he really use the word ‘like’?” Keira messaged Nina.
Her reply came. “I know. I think the doctor’s increased his dose of Advil though, so don’t take it to heart.”
Keira laughed to herself. It was nice to be in contact with Nina. It grounded her, reminded her where she’d come from and why she was here. Without her friend’s dry sense of humor and regular updates Keira might have gotten even more carried away with herself than she already had.
She busied herself on her laptop in the corner as Shane and Orin drank and chatted happily.
“So, Keira,” Orin called over to her. “Shane tells me you’re a bit protective over your writing.”
“Just the bad stuff,” she called back.
She really didn’t want this to be the topic of conversation again and tried her best not to rise to the bait. She was feeling bad enough as it was about what she’d sent off. But Orin, like Shane, wasn’t about to drop it.
“It doesn’t have to be a first draft,” he suggested. “What about something that was printed in last month’s magazine?”
Keira tensed. This was getting far too close for comfort. But what choice did she have? Her excuse to Shane earlier had been that she didn’t want him reading anything incomplete. No first drafts. But last month’s magazine had her writing in it, and the month before that. Maybe if she just pulled up the Viatorum website she’d be able to show them a small snippet of work. Maybe that would be enough to get them off her back.
“Fine,” she relent
ed. “Here’s a piece I wrote for a parade last month. It’s not very good, I must warn you.”
Shane and Orin came over. They looked impressed by the website’s slick design, though Keira knew that Shane at the very least would be thinking it was snooty.
Suddenly, Shane reached forward and snatched up the laptop, yanking it away from her grasp. He was giggling like it was some joke, and Keira realized as she looked up at Orin’s smiling face that they had planned this. They’d ganged up on her in order to steal her laptop and see what she’d written about the festival.
“Don’t!” Keira pleaded.
They had no idea. They thought this was innocent fun. They thought they were just playing with her, breaking down her modesty. But Keira knew the truth. Her stomach swirled with fear at what she knew was about to happen.
It was too late. Shane began to read aloud from the latest snarky piece she’d sent. His voice went from lilting and jovial to quiet, despondent, and deeply hurt.
“Suffocating Irish hospitality?” he read, looking up at her with sad, betrayed eyes. “Gritty, dark dive? Is that what you think of us?”
“I’m sorry,” Keira whispered, her stomach sinking.
Shane looked at her with a pained expression. “What’s this? Why are you being so mean?”
“It was my assignment,” Keira tried to explain. “But it’s not really how I feel. I’m supposed to act all snobbish for the article, that’s all. It’s not me. I’m sorry.”
“So you’re saying it doesn’t count because you don’t mean it?” Shane shot back, sounding upset.
“I’m so sorry,” Keira repeated. It was all she could think to say. “I know it’s no kind of an excuse.”
“You can say that again,” Shane said. “You’re completely trashing us. I thought this was supposed to be a tourism magazine. What kind of tourism magazine trashes the places it reviews?”
Keira bit down on her lip. “It’s less tourism and more, um, travel and lifestyle, I guess?”
“Sarcastic travel and ironic lifestyle,” Shane said. “What’s the point of that?”
Keira felt terrible. She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s stupid. Shallow. And I’ve been a fool for letting myself get wrapped up in it. What can I say to make it up to you? To you both. Other than that I’m truly sorry.”
Orin spoke up. “You really think sorry is enough? I put my heart and soul into this B&B. This could ruin me.”
She looked over at him. He looked so disappointed in her. She felt just as disappointed in herself.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I would never have done anything that I thought could hurt the business. Not that many people read the magazine. I don’t think it would influence them. I mean our readers wouldn’t come to a place like this in the first place.” Keira snapped her mouth shut, realizing how bad what she’d just said sounded, and how the two of them were going to construe it.
Shane looked at her coolly. “A place like this?” he repeated.
Keira felt cold all over. Now she’d really blown it.
Shane downed the last dregs of his beer and swept up his coat from his stool.
“Where are you going?” Keira said, her stomach dropping with dread.
Shane kept his voice quiet. “You don’t need a guide anymore. You’ve seen everything there is to see. I think it’s best if we part ways now. You can handle this on your own.”
“Shane!” Keira called out, reaching for him, feeling regretful.
It was no use. He turned and left the pub. Keira looked back at Orin. He shook his head and averted his gaze.
Keira felt as if her whole world had suddenly fallen away beneath her feet.
She ran for the door to the corridor and pulled it open, thundering upstairs to her room. Once inside, she grabbed her phone and rang Bryn.
When her sister answered, Keira let her tears fall.
“Sis,” Bryn said, gently. “What’s happened? Is it Shane?”
“Yes,” Keira admitted. “But not just Shane. Orin too. They read my article and now they hate me.”
“Isn’t Orin like an old man?” Bryn said, sounding confused. “Why do you care what his opinion is?”
“Because he’s my friend.” Keira’s chest felt heavy with guilt and shame. “I honestly don’t know if I can stay here anymore. It’s Orin’s pub. And what’s the point? I can’t write anything good. Now that everyone hates me I don’t see the point in staying here.”
“So what if some people hate you?” Bryn challenged her. “You’re not there to make friends! You’re there for your career. Nothing’s changed. It’s just gone back to how it was when you first arrived.”
“I’ve changed, Bryn,” Keira wailed. “I don’t even know how to write anymore. This is useless.”
“I don’t believe that,” Bryn replied, refuting her claim. “You’re an amazing writer, sis. Always have been. And you’re a fighter. You don’t run from your problems, you face them head on. Talk to Shane. Stick this out.”
Keira sniffed loudly. “I thought you thought he was a player. A rebound. What do you care if I work things out with him or not?”
“I don’t know,” Bryn said, exhaling loudly. “It just sounds like you’re having an amazing time and enjoying the company of an amazing guy. Don’t let this one little thing get in the way of that. What’s here for you in New York City to come back to anyway? You’ll be sleeping on my couch!”
“Great,” Keira huffed, pouting. “So I’m basically stuck between a rock and hard place.”
“You never know what might happen,” Bryn said. “Go and weave some of your word magic with Shane. I’m sure you can win him over.”
But Keira wasn’t quite so sure she could. She didn’t think there was any coming back from this. Shane had looked so hurt. He would never forgive her. She’d ruined the one good thing she had going for her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning, Keira wasn’t surprised when there was no breakfast waiting for her at the bar. When Shane didn’t arrive to take her on an excursion, she was equally unsurprised. Her stomach twisted and turned with grief.
She knew she should attend some festival events anyway, but she felt too numb to do so. Without Shane it would just be depressing. So instead she ran back upstairs to her room and shut away the outside world.
Keira wanted to leave, to run away from this place, this whole country, and forget all about it. But there were still four days left of her trip. She knew even a pleading phone call to Heather wouldn’t result in a reschedule of flights. Even if Heather herself was kind-hearted about the situation (which Keira knew she wouldn’t be anyway) Joshua would veto it. He’d say something about how much she’d cost the company already. How it would be his head on the chopping block, not hers, or something equally dramatic. The last thing she wanted right now was any kind of interaction with Josh.
Keira felt at a complete loss. She wished there was some means to communicate with Shane but she didn’t even have his number. If he could just give her a chance maybe they could talk this through, resolve it.
Suddenly, she remembered the itinerary Heather had given her. Josh’s assistant had planned everything meticulously. Surely she’d have included Shane’s number in there somewhere!
Keira searched in her bags for Heather’s itinerary. She found it and scanned the document, searching for Shane’s number. There it was! He was listed as “The Guide.” How strange it felt now to think back on him as her tour guide, when he had become something so different, something so much more.
She felt her nerves grow as she typed his number into her phone. She listened to the phone ring, then voicemail kick in. Deliberating for a moment, Keira decided to leave a message.
“Hey, Shane, it’s Keira. Can we talk?”
Her voice sounded stilted, more nervous than she would have liked. She lost her confidence and hung up before she had a chance to say any more. What she really wanted to do was apologize. Grovel. But that hadn’t exactly don
e her any favors before and now it felt like she’d lost all her inner strength.
Her phone pinged, indicating a message. She tensed, hoping it wasn’t Joshua. Praying that it was Shane. It was neither. Instead, it was a text from Nina.
I’ve had an idea. You need to see who the matchmaker matches you with. It would make a great concluding paragraph, don’t you think?
Keira’s heart sank. The thought of approaching William for a matching made her feel sick. She didn’t even want to think about being with another man. She just wanted things to go back to how they’d been with Shane.
But Nina was right. She was consumed with writer’s block as it was. Maybe a visit to William would give her the spark of inspiration she needed. A bad match now could provide her with the final paragraph or two for her article.
Keira wasn’t quite sure how, but somehow she managed to get out of bed and out onto the streets of Lisdoonvarna. She strolled slowly to William’s, biding her time. But there was only so slow she could go down the one road before she found herself outside the burnt orange house far too soon.
She took a deep breath and knocked. Maeve answered.
“Keira?” she said. “I was wondering when we’d see you.”
The comment made her stomach clench. Had it really been that obvious to everyone that things with Zachary would end? Did she really appear to everyone as such a hopeless wretch that a trip to the matchmaker’s would become inevitable?
She followed Maeve inside, and the flame-haired woman went off to make a pot of tea. William looked up from his desk at Keira and smiled.
“Take a seat,” he said. “You’re here for your match, I presume?”
Keira gave a small shrug of affirmation and sat down, filled with trepidation.
William began thumbing through his tome of names, taking his time. Maeve poured Keira a cup of tea, which she drank quietly.
Suddenly, William slammed the book shut. The verdict was in. But what he said next hurt Keira to the core.
“No match.”
