Page 30 of Fearless Sinner

“Yes. You would never think that he was even sick if you saw him. He lives in Ireland now and swears by his daily potion of Irish moss and Guinness.”

I bite back a smile. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, he’s the eccentric one in the family.”

“Are most of your family in Ireland?”

“Yes.”

“And you obviously lived there for a long time.” His accent is light but at the same time too distinct for me to be wrong.

“I did. I’m still there a lot.”

Roxanne walks over to us with two plates of bruschetta, then she cuts me that cunning look again when she sets them down.

“Let me know if you’d like anything more,” she says.

“Thank you.” Cillian dips his head.

Roxanne saunters away but I notice her glancing back at us over her shoulder.

“What about you, Chloe? What more is there to know about you?”

I shuffle against my seat. “Apart from ballet I’m really not all that interesting.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Okay, ask me specific questions. What did you want to know about me?”

“What are you going to do now if you aren’t dancing? Don’t tell me you’re going to work here.”

“Not forever.” At one point in my life I was terrified of spending the rest of my days waiting tables here. But now I’d gladly work here for a hundred years if it could fix all the problems. “I want to open my own dance school, but that won’t be for a long while. Until then I’m going to see if I can get a teaching job.”

“Sounds good.”

I nibble on my bruschetta and he does, too. The delicious taste of herbs and tomato awakens my taste buds, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is perhaps the best bruschetta I’ve ever tasted.” Cillian nods.

“Thanks. Everything available here is from my great-great-grandmother’s recipe. People still talk about her in Italy.”

“It’s very good. When was the last time you went to Italy?”

“Too long. In my first year of college we took my father back there for his final journey. He wanted to die there.”

“Sorry about your father.” He sets his food down and I notice the way his eyes soften as he stares at me.

“Thank you. I guess that was a few years back.” Although it still feels like yesterday to me that my father took his last breath and broke my heart.

“My father isn’t around either. Or my mother.”

“I’m sorry for you, too.”

He dips his head in appreciation. “Eat, lass. While I think of something less morbid to ask you.”

“It’s okay. I just happen to have a morbid life.”

“Well, I guess that’s one thing we have in common.”

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