Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“I know that.” He looks at me steadily. “I'm still asking.”
Neither of us says out loud what we're both thinking. He has more clout with her than I do at this point. I'm just a friend. And now that I'm getting married, I'm not sure I'm even that. I made a promise to keep her safe, and the cost is that I don't get to be the one who shows up when she's sick.
“Just… be careful about it. Discreet. It’s not worth pissing off Valentina’s family.”
“She's not my wife yet,” I say through gritted teeth.
Cavin's mouth curves. “I know. I seem to recall someone reminding me I could still visit The Craic, on the grounds that I wasn't married yet either.”
“That was the old me,” I say. “I've turned over a new leaf.”
“Is that the leaf they’ll put alongside your snail for dinner?”
He groans, laughing when I punch him.
“I hate you,” I tell him.
“You love me,” he says, then sobers. “But listen. Just… maybe try again.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I'm just—you know, there aren’t many people who are actually worried about Bridget right now. That's pretty much it: you, Erin, and me. Her parents have no idea anymore. Nobody else really knows her the way we do. Bronwyn might, but I doubt she’s told her.”
I glance at my phone. Shite—I need to be at the restaurant in fifteen minutes. Thankfully, Valentina said she had errands to run and wanted to meet me there, so I didn't have to make a big production of flowers and picking her up and all of that. We'll just meet at the restaurant for dinner.
Like friends. Like friends who have zero chemistry and nothing in common, but yeah.
“I gotta go. Snails and dark-green leaves are calling me.” I stifle a groan.
My phone vibrates with a text, but it’s from the wrong person.
Valentina
They seated me in the back. I’ve already ordered a sparkling water.
Great. Who the fuck gets there fifteen minutes early?
When I get into the car, I shoot Bridget a text.
Cavin says you haven't gone to the doctor. What are you waiting for?
No answer. I glance in the rearview mirror, straighten my hair, and adjust my collar. Blue button-down shirt, no tie, khaki trousers, and shined shoes. My suit jacket is hanging in the back. I check my phone the entire drive there.
Why hasn't she texted me back?
I hand off the car to the valet and walk to the main door, shrugging on my coat.
A chunk of masonry hits the pavement not three feet from me.
I stop. Look up. The building beside the restaurant is mid-renovation—scaffolding, tarps, the usual Dublin chaos. A worker leans over the edge and shouts something apologetic. I raise a hand to show I'm not dead and keep walking.
Seamus owns the building on the corner here. I'll have to mention it. He takes that kind of thing seriously—loose scaffolding, shoddy work. Someone could've been killed.
I file it away and forget it almost immediately because my phone is buzzing, Valentina is already inside waiting, and somewhere across the city, Bridget still hasn't texted me back.
This is all wrong, out of place, like a song played at the wrong pitch. Not exactly a travesty, but there's no harmony. I text Bridget again.
You need to go see the fucking doctor
My phone buzzes immediately. I look at the response.
Valentina
What are you talking about? What doctor?
Christ. That was a close call. I'm playing with goddamn fire.
I text her right back.
Sorry, didn't mean to send that to you. Was texting a friend. I'm here, see you in a minute.
She likes it with a thumbs-up emoji.
Why do I hate that fucking thumbs-up emoji so much?
I find our table at the back. She's frowning at her phone when I arrive, but she puts it face down and smiles when she sees me. It’s a practiced smile. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her caught off guard.
She looks pretty, I guess. Dressed in an expensive gown, long earrings, her hair straight and shiny, not a bit out of place. This is the kind of place with dim lighting, someone playing a violin in the distance, and no prices on the menu.
“Hi,” she says. “How are you?”
I sit across from her. “Fine. Good meeting with Seamus today. We're discussing the details of the visit to your family in New York.”
“Yes, my mother wanted to solidify those plans as well. She's made arrangements. She wants to take you to a few places, have you meet our family. How familiar are you with New York?”
“A little. I was in Boston on and off for a couple of years, made a few trips down to visit friends.”
Our server comes over. Valentina orders some type of tofu dish with roasted vegetables. I have the undeniable desire to order the largest steak on the menu, but I glance at the menu and find there's no steak. In fact, I'm not even sure there's meat, unless venison or kangaroo counts.