Page 24 of An Irish Summer

not to watch his forearms flex as he changed gears, not to watch him watching me.

When I was finally able to focus, I let my eyes trail along the horizon and admire the sea blend into the sky. I rolled down

the windows to smell the salty air, letting my hair tangle in the breeze, not caring at all about what it’d feel like to rake

the knots out later.

Eventually I pulled my head inside the window and leaned it back against the seat, trying to savor the moment.

I hadn’t been doing enough of that since I’d gotten here.

Or any of that, really. My main priority since I’d arrived in Ireland had been trying to leave Ireland, which meant I was mostly missing all of Ireland.

“All right?” Collin asked, studying my face in glances.

“Grand,” I answered, which made him smile.

“Don’t have anything like this in Boston, do ya?”

“We have plenty in Boston,” I said, trying to think of a single thing that might stack up to this view. He waited, but I said

nothing.

“Sure ya do,” he said eventually, laughing under his breath.

“Where does this lead?” I asked, dragging my gaze along the shoreline, desperate to redirect our conversation.

“Still so eager to get to the next thing, are ya?” He shook his head, and I resisted the urge to melt into my seat. “Must

there always be a destination, Chelsea?”

“Well, no, but—”

“But nothing,” he said. “It’s okay to not know where you’re going.”

“In the car, maybe,” I argued. “But not in life.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me,” I said, though an image of my mother flashed in my mind. “It’s just the way things are.”

Collin hummed, a low sound from deep in his chest, and it reverberated around the truck’s cab and straight down my spine.

“What?” I asked.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you made a sound.”

“I’m not allowed to make a sound?”

“Not without telling me what it was about,” I said.

“How hard are you really trying?” he said. “To find a job, I mean. To know where you’re going again. Because you’re putting in more work at the Wanderer, and I’m wondering when you have time for the job applications, and if you actually want to—”

“Of course I’m trying,” I said defensively. “And of course I want to find a job and move home. Nothing’s changed.”

“Say it like you mean it and I might believe you.”

“Where is this coming from?” I asked, rolling up the window and pushing my hair from my face.

“I just think you’re happier here than you’re willing to admit, that’s all.” He raised his palms suggesting he had nothing

else to say, but that didn’t work for me.

“And what makes you the authority on that?” I asked.

“I have eyes, Chelsea.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Stop asking questions you already know the answers to,” he replied. “I can literally see you letting your guard down. You

don’t grit your teeth at the thought of exploring the country anymore. I’d say sometimes you’re even excited about it. Unless

that has nothing to do with Ireland, and everything to do with.. .”

The way he smiled told me he knew I knew exactly what he was going to say, and I was impossibly grateful he didn’t finish

speaking. Though in all honesty, it didn’t make much of a difference. The energy in the truck was electric, and I studied

the landscape beyond the window in a desperate attempt to distract myself.

I counted the cows that dotted the grass. The gulls that dipped over the sea. The breaths Collin took that sounded like he

was about to say something but at the last minute changed his mind.

He was on his fourth when we rounded a curve and a castle came into view in the distance. It was a soft gray with turrets jutting into the sky beyond the deep green of the trees, nestled between a dense mountainside and a sparkling lake.

“Is that—”

“Our destination,” he said. “Does it qualify for your list of acceptable places to be going? It’s not anywhere on the corporate

ladder or anything, but it’s—”

“Beautiful,” I said. For once, I had nothing else to say.

“Sometimes it’s nice for things to just be beautiful, isn’t it?” Collin asked, following the road along the direction of the

water. “Not everything always has to be getting you to the next thing, or—”

“Collin,” I said, “you’re ruining it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “were you just embracing the moment for once?”

“I can do that, you know,” I said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I could do it better if you weren’t riding me constantly.”

“Oh, that’s what I’m doing now, is it?” He raised his eyebrows, and I caught the innuendo a second too late.

“You’re infuriating,” I said.

“That’s why you’re here, then, is it? We’ve been running all around the country together because you can’t stand me?”

It took everything in me not to slam my head against the window. I knew if I kept talking I’d be digging my grave deeper into

the ground, but letting him win felt like a burial in its own right.

“Good point,” I said. “Maybe this should be our last trip, then.” His smile disappeared, and I had to bite the inside of my

lip to keep a straight face.

“As you wish,” he said. Goddamn it. “Though after you see the inside of the abbey, I think you might just change your mind.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I could feel his smug grin without looking, and I forced myself to breathe deeply. Truthfully, I was excited to explore the

castle, but I didn’t want to give Collin the satisfaction of appearing too eager.

The only sounds on the walk down the path to the abbey were the crunching of gravel underfoot and the idle chatter of other

visitors. Collin and I walked close enough that our arms brushed every few steps, and the unexpected contact burned like embers.

As we got closer to the castle, though, even the electricity with Collin burned away. Kylemore Abbey was a marvel. Its dove-gray

facade reflected in the lake below, blurring like a watercolor painting. The surrounding trees boasted shades of green I didn’t

even know existed, and the gardens sprawled in every direction. Every other castle I’d seen in Ireland so far had been in

ruins, but this was remarkably preserved.

“Ready?” Collin asked as we approached the entrance.

“Aye, Collin. There you are?” The ticket attendant extended his hand, which Collin shook like they were old friends.

“Eamon, great to see ya,” Collin said, patting his elbow. “Thanks for having us.”

“Anything for you.” Eamon gestured us through the door. “Say hi to yer father for me, will ya?”

“Anything for you,” Collin echoed, saluting him as we made our way inside.

“Old friend?” I asked.

“Of the family.”

“That was nice of him to let us in for free.”

“No bother. Eamon’s a good lad. Does a favor for us every now and again, and we do the same.”

I nodded, trying also to listen to the other staff members as they prepared us for the self-guided tour.

“Don’t bother,” Collin said, tracking my gaze. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“How can I be sure?” I asked. “What if you decide to withhold critical pieces of Irish history?”

“Withholding isn’t exactly my strong suit,” he said, ushering me through a doorway with his hand on my lower back. The gesture

tightened everything in me, and I missed the sensation before it was over.

Wandering through the castle felt like wandering through time—if you could overlook the velvet ropes and signage plastered

on the walls. Each room was historically accurate, all gaudy curtains, gold-framed mirrors, and ornate upholstery.

We explored studies and drawing rooms and great halls; all the while Collin spun an elaborate history of the abbey. I listened

as he told me of the early days, the Henry family, and the time they spent entertaining in their home.

“Must be nice,” I mused. “No nine-to-five, no pressure, just rich people hobbies and the most gorgeous estate.”

“You think that sounds nice, now?” Collin asked. “Not having a job and that?”

“If I was rich and this was my house, absolutely,” I said.

“So, your work is about making a lot of money? Is that why you’re so keen to find a job in Boston?”

“Everyone needs to work to make money. And with money comes stability.”

“But at what cost?” he said. I kept my eyes locked on a marble bust to avoid looking at his. “Don’t you think making less money and having more time for yourself might be worthwhile? More stability in the long run, no?”

“I have plenty of time for myself,” I said, wondering if that was actually true.

“Enough that you’re happy?”

This time I turned my gaze fully on him, but he remained staring at some artifact neither of us cared about.

“Why are you so concerned?” I whispered over a voice from a hidden loudspeaker chronicling the lives of Mitchell and Margaret

Henry.

“Part of my job,” he whispered back. “Gotta keep the guests happy.”

“And you want to talk to me about working too much.” I shook my head, and he fought a smile.

“Keeping people happy hardly feels like work,” he said. “But I do make sure to give myself a break when I can. If I’m not

taking care of myself, then I can’t take good care of the guests.”

“And right now is about taking care of the guests?” I teased. “I thought you weren’t working today.”

“I only said that to keep ya happy.”

I smacked him in the arm, and he let go of the laugh he was holding. “And for what it’s worth,” I said, “it is about the work.

I love helping people make the most of their vacations.”

“I’m going to choose to believe you,” he said, “but only because it’s what Margaret Henry would do.”

I scoffed, and neither of us said anything else.

We continued roaming the castle, dragging our feet on the glossy wood floors and resisting the urge to touch everything.

Collin spoke only to tell me bits of history, and I didn’t speak at all.

I listened to stories of ladies reading and sewing in the morning rooms, lavish dinner parties, the history of the Benedictine nuns.

“This,” he said, opening his arms as we entered what was labeled “The Gallery Saloon,” “is where the residents had happy hour.”