by Frankie Love
“Conor avoids any commitment, spending more than a night with you makes you his longest relationship.”
Feeling like I need to cut this conversation off before we get in some seriously murky water, I tell Sean our plans for the day.
“After breakfast, we’re headed to Guinness Lake, then Glendalough.”
“Sounds lovely, though I do hope the weather agrees. It’s cloudy and wet.”
“That’s good,” Clover says, her voice chipper and hopeful. “We’re looking for rainbows. And hopefully when the sky clears, one will appear.”
“Rainbows?” Sean shrugs. “Well, you certainly have the right man for the job. He finds one every day, luckiest bastard in Ireland.”
“I know. That’s why I was in Dublin in the first place, I had signed up for his tour.”
Sean slaps the table. “No bloody way! Truly?”
I grin. “Who’da thought, right?”
“That’s quite the coincidence, mate.”
“Coincidence?” Clover says. “Conor doesn’t believe in those.”
“Right again,” Sean laughs, looking between us, softening. He raps the table with his knuckles. “Well, looks like I’m not needed here,” he says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Gotta head to the office anyway.”
“Aren’t you ready to quit the bullshit and move out to the country?”
“More than ever. This racket in town, it’s grinding my last nerve. I’d love nothing more than to have a change of pace.”
“I know, brother, I know.” I clap Sean on the back, knowing he’s had a rough go of it. Two wives, both cheated on him. Clover may think she’s unlucky in life, but Sean? That bloke is unlucky in love.
After Sean leaves, Clover looks down to her plate of food as if she’s memorizing it.
“What is it?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, it’s just ... does everyone razz you about the women you’ve been with?”
I add more pepper and salt than necessary to my eggs, deciding what exactly I want to say. “Look, it’s no secret that I’ve fucked around. But it’s all been harmless fun. I’m out here in the sticks, what else is a man supposed to do?”
Clover twists her lips, conflicted.
I take her hand in mine. “Listen, I’m not perfect. We’ve covered that plenty. And the truth is, this is all new territory for me.”
“What territory are we talking about, exactly?”
“Us. This.” I take off my knit cap and run a hand through my hair. “I mean, the last few days have felt like we’ve been on hyper-speed, hasn’t it? Like we’ve been at this a lot longer than we have?”
“It does.” Clover nods, slowly. This conversation clearly isn’t easy for her either. It’s vulnerable and honest and it has me shaking in my boots. But then Clover speaks again. “It feels like I’ve known you forever, Conor. Like I can trust you. Like I was meant to be here, with you. Maybe that sounds crazy, or intense but––”
“It doesn’t. I feel it too. And I want to see where it takes us. In two days’ time, I feel like I’ve known you forever. What will it be like in two more days?”
Clover blinks tears in her eyes again. “I didn’t think this was real, whatever this is.”
“It’s the magic of Ireland, lassie.”
“Then I suppose today is the day I'm going to find that rainbow.”
She grins at me, her face bright and glowing, and I love seeing her this way. The girl so scared of her own shadow a few days ago is long gone.
I just don’t know what to do about the mess I’ve got myself in.
Part of me thinks I ought to call Patrick and call off the bet, but I know my brother, and our rivalry has deep roots. If I call it off, he’ll call me a loser. But since Clover isn’t going anywhere without me, he’ll see her again, and soon.
So, where would that leave me? She’d find out about the bet regardless.
And I wouldn’t have the land I want to offer her.
I haven’t much choice but to push forward.
Besides, I’ve gotten myself out of bigger scrapes before. Certainly, I can manage this lassie’s heart.
12
After our heart-to-heart at breakfast, the day gets going without a hitch. We make our way to the gorgeous Guinness Lake, where we wander for hours, nearly circling the entire thing.
“It earned its nickname because it borders the estate owned by the Guinness family,” Conor explains. The water is a rich brown color, just like the pints we drank at Johnnie Fox’s the night before. “The family actually imported the white sand that you see on the shoreline to make it look like a frothy head on a pint.”
I take pictures of the iconic spot, but every time I think there might be a break in the clouds, Conor shakes his head and tells me to keep going.
It’s a disappointment, and I have my camera slung over my shoulder the entire day, ready to point and click, but the only ones I take are snapshots of Conor and me.
I make him take a hundred selfies with me, and he’s a good sport about it, so long as I listen to him ramble on and on about the countryside that we’re in.
Guinness Lake has been here forever it seems, and as I walk around it with Conor, it feels like I could spend forever here too.
By the early afternoon, we get to Glendalough and I’m ready to see some freaking rainbows.
“Here you go lassie: shamrocks,” Conor says pointing to a patch of greenery.
“It’s not a rainbow,” I tell him glumly.
“Well, maybe not, but let’s see if there are any four-leaf clovers.” We get on our hands and knees looking for one, and of course, within minutes Conor plucks one from the earth and hands it to me.
“There you go, my Clover. It’s good luck. Maybe it will help us find our rainbow here.”
I smile and tuck it in the threads of my sweater.
“Okay, Conor, now it’s time to bring your A game. Tell me about this Glendalough that we’re at now.”
“Thousands of years people have been drawn to the Valley of the Two Lakes. Besides being just so damn beautiful, it’s inspirational to be here. You can’t leave without your heart feeling a little more full than it was when you came.”
I know just what he means, because as we walk on foot around the monastic city, then get in the truck to look at monuments and the lakes, I feel like I can breathe easier.
I never breathe this way in New York. Ever since I graduated college, and moved there, my life has been a non-stop treadmill. I’m terrified to stop moving, so instead, I go faster and faster, the speed accelerating past anything I am capable of.
When I wasn’t working, I’d spend hours in the darkroom of the studio I rented, trying to come up with some brilliant new concept. I’d spend hours trying to take photographs that were truly spectacular.
The fear was, that if I didn’t create some breakout hit, then I was just going to wash away and disappear in the masses that are the city. Julian never helped the stress, he just amplified it. We met at a gallery, both of us competing since we met.
I never want a relationship like that again. One where I am constantly trying to one-up my partner. One where I am constantly treading water just to survive.
But here in the mountains, the idea of disappearing doesn’t seem so terrible. In fact, it sounds inviting.
If I were to live in Ireland, specifically the Wicklow Mountains, I can imagine being satisfied because there’s no one to race with. The only person I really would need to be content with is myself.
And for the first time in my life, it feels like maybe who I am is enough.
“You’re back in your head, again,” Conor says, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.
“I know, it’s just this is more than I expected. I had been in Ireland for three weeks, but never once did I feel so at peace as I do now.”
“Maybe you were in the wrong part of Ireland, but I don’t think that’s possible. I think the problem you had was that you weren
’t with the right guide.”
Conor pulls me to him, and with the green grass and the snow-capped mountains surrounding us, and the four-leaf clover at my chest, he kisses me.
He kisses me in a way that makes me think that maybe, as crazy as it sounds, we can really be something. Something real. Something forever.
And even though I spent my whole life running and therefore, creating my own bad luck, I don’t want to run anymore. It’s like, the moment I walked toward the unknown, the scary––the Conor––I found something life changing.
I found him.
“Your smiles go on for miles,” he tells me, then kisses me again. And when he kisses me, I breathe him in, the mountain air that he is made of, the rocky river banks, the wood burning stove, and barrel-aged whiskey. Conor smells like the place I want to call home.
“You’ve made me into a sappy romantic,” I tell him, turning back around to take in the view, Conor wraps his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me to him. “I’ve never been like this before. I’ve always been too disgruntled for my own good.”
“Looks like times are changing, Clover. This romance isn’t going away anytime soon.”
“Is that your way of telling me you are looking forward to another nighttime romp in the woods?”
“Of course, it is. Only this time you’re not going to straddle me,” he whispers in my ear.
“No?”
“No, this time I’m going to take ye from behind, lassie.”
“Sort of like the position we’re in now?” I ask, grinding against his groin, but knowing there are tourists roaming about and that getting him too hard up here is nothing but cruel.
He laughs his warm breath in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“This position will be perfect.”
“In that case, we need to get down to business.”
“You’re ready to go then?” he asks, spinning me round to face him.
“Of course, just as soon as you show me this damn rainbow.” I smack his ass, and he grabs my hand.
Conor knows the right path to take, and we end up at the highest point in Whitehill. The mountain path we are on is a patchwork of different mountainous and uphill areas. My legs are killing me by the time we reach the top.
“We’ve been walking for hours,” I moan. “I should have let you take me home before we started this hike.”
“This was all your doing, all right,” he jokes. “But truly, are you holding up okay?”
“I’m doing okay,” I say sitting on a fallen log. “But my confidence in you as a tour guide is quickly diminishing. I think you may have written all those Yelp reviews yourself,” I tease, remembering all the descriptions of how easily the tour guide deemed The Lucky Irishman was able to find these people what they were looking for.
“I know, I know. Tomorrow we’ll find you one. It’s already getting late. It’s after 4 o’clock and we’ve still got a long way to walk back to the truck.”
I’m disappointed, but the photographs that Conor and I took together more than make up for it.
The truth is, I don’t care about finding a rainbow. Not one lick.
But if I tell him that, he might go back to his regular life, booking tours and actually doing his job.
And I’m not ready to say goodbye to him. So, I’ll let him take me around again tomorrow and the next day. Crossing my fingers the whole time that there are no rainbows in sight.
Because as soon as I find one, I won’t have a reason to sleep in his bed, a reason to be held in his arms.
We haven’t made any promises, but the truth is, after a few days I feel ready to make all sorts of commitments to him.
13
We spent a day going through the gardens of Glencree, having a meal at Johnnie Fox’s pub. Then we spent a morning walking around Guinness Lake and the afternoon touring Glendalough.
Yesterday, we went to the Avoca Mills and saw where many of the traditional Irish jumpers and hats are made; we had lunch at Sheryl’s pub and then came home early. Both of us worn out and tired.
No rainbows found.
Which is complete bullshit; I saw three. Before noon.
Of course, I didn’t tell Clover because I am terrified that she’ll leave me once she has what she came for.
When we got to the barn last night, Clover was spent and fell right to sleep. Me, though? I paced the house trying to figure out what I was going to do––scared of losing everything. Right when I am so close to having it all.
It’s not just about the land or woman, about winning a damn bet or my fingers itching to run across her skin.
It’s become so much more than that now. I want to tell her how I feel. I want to tell her what she means to me.
I want to tell her words I’ll never take back.
When we wake, I know that today is the day. It’s finally St. Patrick’s Day. The day the deal is finally off, and I can come clean.
I look over at Clover, she’s stirring and smiling in her sleep. It’s been surreal watching her change over the week. She’s gone from a girl with a guard so far up she was biting at everyone, to a woman who has allowed me to work my way all the way into her heart.
How did I get so damn lucky to wake up with this woman in my arms?
“Morning sleepyhead,” Clover says, her fingers running from my cheek down past my chest towards my cock.
“You want to talk about sleepyheads? You fell flat on your face at seven o’clock last night.”
“I know, you’ve worn me out this past week,” she groans, though I know she’s in a lighthearted mood by the way she wraps her legs around mine. “Traipsing through the woods, walking everywhere, I swear I’ve never worked out this much. And then, on top of that, every night we get back here and roll around in this bed until dawn.”
“Not every day,” I correct her. “Last night, remember, you fell asleep. I had to sit here all by my lonesome.”
She leans up on her elbows resting them on my chest. Her body is tangled against mine; both of our bodies bare.
“And what did you do Conor, all by yourself last night?” she asks. Her sleepy morning eyes starting to wake.
I reach for her elbows and pull her close to me, forcing her upon my chest. Her body covers mine.
“I cried myself to sleep,” I tell her. “It was the saddest sight I’d ever seen. I had such a beautiful woman here and yet she was passed out. A blow to my ego is what it was.”
Clover laughs, her hair falling over her shoulders, the strands of hair tickling my face. I brush it aside and pull her mouth to mine. I kiss her hard; kiss her completely.
“Do you have any idea how badly I want you right now?” I ask.
“I can take a wild guess.” She reaches down her hand, grabbing my cock and moving it closer to her pussy. Her already wet and ready and willing pussy.
“I want you forever, Clover.”
“How long is forever?” she asks.
“Forever is always.”
“Those are big words, coming from you. You’re a man forever scared of commitment.” Clover inches me inside of her, biting her lip as she does, but she’s meeting my eyes. I wonder if this conversation is more than she is ready for.
“Things change, lassie. You’ve changed me.”
She sits up, straddling me as she eases herself onto me, turning her hips ever so slightly, rounding them in a circle so every part of her is filled with me.
“I’m still an American, I can’t stay here forever, this isn’t my home.”
“Lassie, do you want to go back to America?”
“I want to find a rainbow.”
“I failed you on that, didn’t I?” I run my hands over her back, down her spine, holding her ass in place, forcing her to stop moving above me.
She shakes her head, pressing her forefinger to my lips. “Shush, Conor. Why do you always have to make things so serious? I wake up and the first thing from your mouth is heavy questions. You could do other things with your mou
th, you know.” She laughs, and I know she’s teasing me.
I make up for it by grabbing her tits, both with my hands, squeezing them until she laughs.
Nuzzling against her neck I whisper, “I don’t know how to do all of this, Clover, I’m trying here.”
“I don’t know how to do it either, Conor. It’s all new territory for me too.”
“Is there something you want me to say, something that would make you stay?”
Clover smiles softly, but her mouth doesn’t part, and she shakes her head, circling her hips against me again, drawing me closer.
I pull her to me, wrap my arms around her back, our chests pressed tight against one another.
I roll her over, I'm on top of her now, thrusting inside of her perfect body, wanting to mark her with all that I am. Fill her with all I might be.
I fuck her sweetly, she fucks me softly, my hands gripping the headboard as I move inside of her, harder and harder.
Her eyes close and our conversation is lost as we come, together, completely.
After, we stand in the shower and wash one another’s bodies. I run my hands through her wet hair and look down at her, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
She was dropped into my lap in the most unexpected way. I never want to hurt her, I never want to make her cry.
I need tell her how much I care about her.
And also, the truth of why I brought her back to my barn that first night, as hard as it will be.
Of course, I’m scared she’ll leave me for good.
But I’m hoping the truth will incite her to stay.
14
Here’s the thing about Conor, we can be rolling around in his bed one second, and then the next, he asks me questions that take my breath away.
But he doesn’t give me a full answer, a complete story. And it makes me wonder what he is holding back.
In life, it’s always been me who is the one holding back, but my gut is telling me he isn’t being completely transparent. He’s not saying everything he wants to say, and unless he does, there’s no reason for me to stay.
