Page 21 of An Irish Summer

“Paul,” Flo called to the bartender whom I’d never seen before. “A round of Limoncello for us, please.” She turned her attention

back to Grant and Liam. “To you two,” she said, “and your story. And may this Limoncello be the beginning of a long and successful

Italian culinary experience for you. Especially you, Liam,” she said, winking in a way that was so charming even Liam couldn’t

pretend to be bothered by the teasing.

Paul slid a tray of cordials across the bar, and I had to admit I was shocked Limoncello was something we had stocked here.

“And to you,” Grant said, “our culinary spirit guide. And dear Chelsea, for setting this up.” We raised our glasses to one

another, clinking before we drank.

I dropped into the background, listening as Flo chatted with her new friends. They discussed the recipes she planned to teach

them, what her life was like in Italy, the amenities of Grant and Liam’s new apartment building, where they planned to travel

next. The conversation washed over me, and I grew content sitting quietly in its warm glow.

Until Collin walked in. With Rhiannon close behind.

They were joined by a handful of others I recognized from Blackrock, but they only seemed interested in each other.

Although I felt tempted to run, I was determined to be more discreet. There was no reason for either of them to get under

my skin in the first place, so leaving the bar wouldn’t have done any more good than staying put.

“Who is that?” Grant asked, following my not-so-subtle gaze.

“Who, him?” I said, gesturing toward Collin with my thumb like I had no idea why Grant would possibly be asking about him.

“He’s the tour guide, and sometimes the bartender, and whatever else.”

“And does ‘whatever else’ happen to include being your lover?” Grant asked, looking right through me. “Because your gaze tells

me it does, but that woman on his arm tells me the opposite.”

“Please, Chelsea,” Flo said. “Do tell us.”

I shot her a look that had no effect. She kept smiling, and I kept trying not to scream. “Nope,” I said to Grant. “Just a

friend.” Collin must have felt us all looking at him, because he turned on cue and whispered something to Rhiannon before

heading in our direction.

“Oh, shit.” Flo giggled under her breath. I did not join her.

“Hi,” he said when he arrived, and I could tell Grant was already charmed by that damn sideways smile. They exchanged introductions, and I forced myself not to notice how much more Irish Collin’s accent sounded in conversation with their English ones.

“You’re the tour guide, are you?” Liam asked.

“I am,” Collin said. “Interested in getting out to see more of the country while you’re here?”

“That’d be brilliant,” Grant said. “Would love to hear from a local.”

“See?” Collin said, nudging my elbow with his. The unexpected contact gave me more of a buzz than the Limoncello ever could

have. “Some people are actually interested in what the locals have to offer.”

“They’re misguided,” I whispered loud enough for Grant and Liam to hear so they knew I was joking. “We try not to hold it

against them. They’re good people.”

“She’s right,” Grant said, turning his attention to Collin. “We are misguided. We thought you fancied the woman you came in

with, but now we see we’re wrong.” He beamed at Collin, who rested his bottom lip between his teeth while he looked for a

response.

“Please forgive us,” Liam said. “My partner sometimes has one drink and forgets how to behave.” He said the last part with

clenched teeth, but Grant only laughed.

“Sorry, love, but I have to call it as I see it, that’s all.”

“Have I mentioned how much I like these two?” Flo said, nodding toward Grant and Liam.

If I didn’t want to run from the bar before, I did then. Well, part of me anyway. The other part was desperate to ask Grant

what made him think Collin fancied me instead of Rhiannon.

“It was a pleasure to meet you both. I’ve got to get back, but I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Collin said eventually, but not unkindly, looking over his shoulder to the group he had brought in.

“Don’t sound so excited,” Flo said.

As we followed Collin’s line of vision, we watched Rhiannon call him over with perfectly manicured fingers. There was an empty

space next to her on a small couch, and I didn’t want to imagine Collin filling it. I also didn’t want to imagine their knees

touching, them staying until closing time, finding their way out of here together.

But just because I didn’t want to didn’t mean I wasn’t going to.

“I should probably head out,” I said, getting up from the stool and finishing the last of the Limoncello.

“We just got here,” Grant said. “Stay for at least another.”

Collin had yet to walk away, and I could feel his gaze burning through the side of my face.

“This was just for you two to connect with Flo, anyway,” I said to Grant. “I’ve done my job. And now I should keep doing my

job if ‘Cooking with Flo’ is going to succeed more than just this once.”

“Always working, this one,” Flo said.

“Someone has to,” I teased.

“Well, we’re very lucky to have met you,” Grant said. “Thank you for putting this together. The Wanderer is lucky to have

you on the staff, you know. All of you.”

“We keep telling her that,” Collin said, “but she’s a terrible listener.”

“Didn’t you say you had somewhere to be?” I said, sharper than I intended.

“Didn’t you say the same?”

We stared at each other for a second too long, during which I was sure I heard Rhiannon call his name.

“Feels a bit mad they aren’t going to the same place, doesn’t it? I mean, they obviously should—”

“Grant,” Liam said. Surely this wasn’t the first time Liam had scolded Grant for something like this, because Grant immediately

sank back onto his stool and raised the palms of his hands in surrender.

“Well, I guess I should, er...” Collin started.

“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”

We clambered around each other to say good night to our friends, then headed off in opposite directions. Collin back to Rhiannon,

and me up to my bed. Alone.

When I couldn’t fall asleep, I called Ada. I tried to detail the last few days, but it was hard to get through more than a

sentence without an interruption.

“You jumped off a cliff?” she shouted. “You, Chelsea Gold, jumped off a cliff? Into the sea?”

“Is that really so surprising?” I asked, though we both knew the answer.

“I’m as proud as I am stunned, really,” she said. “I mean, who even are you? First, you move to Ireland, then you jump off

a cliff... what’s next?”

“I didn’t move to Ireland,” I said. “I just relocated. Temporarily.”

“And how’s the job hunt going?”

“Bleak. Really bleak. But that’s not why I called.”

“Oh, babe, I know why you called,” she said. “Same reason you’ve called the last, like, four times.”

“That is not true.”

“You’re right,” she said. “There hasn’t been another woman the other times.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what? That’s the problem, right? The other woman?”

“If you say ‘other’ it makes it seem like I’m his usual woman.”

“Well, you want to be, don’t you?”

“No,” I said, “ you want me to be.”

“I only ever want what’s best for you.”

“And without having ever even met him, you’ve decided a random hostel tour guide in Ireland is what’s best for me?”

“It’s the most you’ve ever talked to me about a guy in a long time, and he seems to make you happy, when he isn’t making you

insane, of course. But even when he is making you insane, when was the last time a man made you insane?”

She had a point. Men didn’t make me insane. In fact, they did the opposite. They all but bored me to death, to be honest.

“What’s insane is the idea of pursuing this at all,” I said. “He’s obviously just interested in whoever is the newest face

to come through here, and at the end of the day he lives in Galway and I live in Boston, so what’s the point?”

“Last I checked you also live in Galway.”

“Temporarily,” I reminded her. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. “In fact, I might just come live there with you.”

“Which would be great, if I actually lived here. But it’s just a visit. Which is why getting involved with Collin is stupid.”

“A summer fling is never stupid. Men with lots of tattoos and messy hair who make good cocktails and take you on picnics to

parks with lakes are not stupid.”

“Men are always stupid,” I said.

“Ireland has made you cynical.”

“Boston made me cynical.”

“All the more reason to give Ireland a chance, then,” she said.

“And by Ireland you mean Collin,” I said.

“Bingo.”

“We don’t even know if he’s interested,” I whispered, suddenly nervous he might have come back from the bar and could hear

me from his room. Then I remembered he probably wouldn’t be alone if that was the case, which made me want to crawl out of

my own skin.

“Chelsea, please,” Ada said. “He tells you fairy stories. What man tells romantic fairy stories to a woman he isn’t interested

in?”

“An Irishman,” I said. “It’s a thing here. But even so, maybe his interest in me isn’t the issue. Maybe the issue is he’s

also interested in everyone else.”

“Maybe he’s trying to make you jealous.”

This thought had floated into my mind for a fraction of a second at Blackrock, then again in the bar, but I had snuffed it

out like a flame. It was wishful thinking at best and embarrassingly delusional at worst.

“I doubt it,” I said. “He wouldn’t go through the trouble.”

“Have a little faith, Chels.”

“Even if I did, now what am I supposed to do?”

“Make a move, duh.”

“Easy for you to say,” I said. “You aren’t here. And you haven’t seen the other woman.”

“No, but I have seen you,” she said. “And I know that the ‘other woman’ couldn’t hold a candle, regardless of how she looks.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Doesn’t matter, because we’re never going to have to find out,” she said.

“Thanks, Ada.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “I’m not going to let up until you get out there and do something bold, so.”