Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“I don’t know. What do you usually do to woo a woman?”
“Tip her handsomely.”
Good point. I rubbed the space between my eyebrows.
“We can go on a date.” He dropped his gaze to his wingtips.
“No, thank you.”
He lifted an eyebrow questioningly.
“You acted like a jackass yesterday and then gifted me a human penis.”
“Make you a deal. If you go out with me, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
“What kind of woman would exchange her favors for money?” I stared at him, scandalized.
“Most of them.”
“That’s very misogynistic.”
“I happen to share the same sentiment about men. Humans are easily corruptible. It’s how I stay in business. So. Date?”
“No.”
“If you come, I’ll answer any of your questions, nothing off limits. You’ll get an hour.”
This did the trick. I was thirsty for his words, for his story. He watched my face intently, knowing his offer was too good to pass up.
“Bastard.”
He grinned. “Get your jacket.”
_______
We went downstairs to Fermanagh’s.
The place was hot, humid, and stank of sweat, stale alcohol, and fried food.
As soon as the patrons spotted us, they stood from their seats, clapping and whistling, like we were some kind of royalty. Tiernan slung his arm over my shoulder, yanking me to his side. A mixture of pride and embarrassment fizzed in my stomach. I’d spent my entire life trying to avoid attention just to land in the center of it now.
My husband’s eye landed on a table at the far corner of the pub, and the two men occupying it immediately grabbed their pints and shuffled to the bar. Tiernan pulled out a chair for me, but I chose to slide into the long, red vinyl couch opposite his seat.
Before we managed to settle, Fintan materialized with two sticky menus and a broad smile. “Hello there, brother, sister-in-law.” He bowed exaggeratedly. “What can I get ya?”
“I’ll have a pint and vinegar crisps.”
“All right. Lila?” Fintan turned to me.
“Lemonade with some ice, please.” I smiled.
“Lemonade with ice,” Tiernan repeated verbally. “And crisps for her as well.”
Fintan not speaking ASL made sense. It seemed whatever the twins went through, Fintan wasn’t with them during that time.
“You still haven’t spoken to your ma?” Tiernan asked.
I shook my head, about to elaborate, when I noticed something from the corner of my eye.
A vase with red roses sat on the pub’s bar. My blood curdled into ice.
They reminded me of the tarnished rose tiara.
Pull yourself together. It’s just flowers.
But I couldn’t look away. They were uncanny.
Tiernan waved a hand in front of my face, frowning.
“Have you seen a ghost?”
“I saw much worse.” I gulped hard. “Flowers.”
There was no point in lying to him. Not that I was at risk of receiving flowers from my husband at any point in our marriage.
“Flowers,” he repeated dryly, turning his head to follow my vision, before whipping his head back. “I concur. Hate them. Puppies, too.” He was being sarcastic.
“They remind me of that night.” I squirmed. “I had a white rose tiara. But it became red after the attack. I still remember it, half-buried in the sand.”
He was quiet for a moment. Suddenly, he stood up, ambled to the bar, and knocked the vase inward. Everyone’s heads whipped and the chatter stopped to see what caused the clash. Tiernan returned back to our table and assumed his seat like nothing happened. “Where were we?”
Fintan reappeared with our drinks before I could produce an answer.
“Did you just knock down the vase?” He frowned.
“I did.”
“Uh, why?”
“No more flowers in or around this establishment.”
Fintan’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “Because…?”
“I said so.” Tiernan took the first sip of his Guinness, darting his tongue to lick the residue foam from his upper lip. “Now go deal with the flowerpots hanging from the windows.”
Fintan left.
I shook my head. “Thank you. But I can’t avoid roses forever.”
“Challenge accepted.”
“I’ll need to get over it at some point.”
“That point won’t be tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either.”
I took a sip of my lemonade. It was very sweet and made the baby cartwheel in my belly. Which reminded me of another, elephant-sized hurdle between us.
“Ask your questions,” Tiernan said.
“Can you stop calling me wiseass now that we’re friends?”
“Wiseass?” He tilted his head.
I typed on my phone, turning the screen so he could see it. Gealach.
“First of all, I’m not your friend. Second, Gealach means moon in Irish.” A joyless smirk found his lips.
“Moon?”
“Mm. The first time I saw you, you were drowning in the night. I was in pain and in a terrible fucking mood. And you glowed. You shone so bright, I couldn’t look away.” His chest expanded with an inhale, and he frowned to himself. “You were my first dream, I think.”
My heart shattered, scattering into tiny shards in the pit of my stomach.
Gealach didn’t mean wiseass?
All this time, he was calling me his moon? Even at the fountain, when I was nothing more than his enemies’ sister?