Page 336 of Well Played

“That’s not an issue,” President Burns commented. “In fact, Aisling here will be happy to coordinate with the Olympic Team administrators any logistics of getting our players to Warrenpoint and the stadium in Newry for the actual competitions and meet and greets to test out this type of promotion. We’ve asked and recruited various team players who play on many of the county teams to help with this and other one-on-one events, since they have a personal connection to those teams and the counties.”

“An excellent approach to generating excitement,” Maeve interjected.

“In fact, Maeve, one of our players from the Olympic team, accepted our offer to head up coordinating the players for Down taking part at the Festival Weekend. Down is truly lucky to have such a star, and I had hoped he would be here by now. I know he was running late, so hopefully, you can meet him shortly …”

Maeve felt the power shift in the room as the conference door clicked open behind her. A familiar voice stumbled over a string of “sorry’s” that fueled mini movies rushing back from deep inside the memory banks of her brain. Even six years couldn’t erase that deep whiskey laced voice and his commanding physical presence, filling all the open crevices in the room, leaving no question to who was standing behind her.

“Fricking brilliant … just fricking brilliant,” Maeve mumbled to herself as she tried to release a breath she was holding, tryingto not choke on the lump growing in her throat, as warning sirens went off in her ears.

“Sorry I’m late. You can never judge morning traffic trying to get into Dub’s Center, even if the tunnel was jammed. I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

Maeve’s chest continued tightening as President Burns spoke; his words of introduction making her want to run from the room as fast as she could.

“No problem, Liam. I think you know mostly everyone here. For those who may not, aside from your athletic prowess as a center for The Mournesmen — let me introduce all of you to …

Maeve turned her chair slowly around to face the only man who had ever used her heart like his own personal football, kicking it through a goal post six years ago.

Liam McCann … her ex-fiancé.

2

Liam frozeas his eyes took in the familiar face, staring back at him in shock and burning hatred.

“Oh, for the love of the fairies and the Sweet Jesus and his Mother Mary,” Liam thought to himself … Maeve Quinn.

Funny that his favorite and very Irish Granny’s favorite phase to explain anything unexpected would pop into his thoughts this very second. She was a genuine believer in all Irish Mythology since she was a young girl, repeatedly telling her children and grandchildren to follow each tales wisdom and teaching. The biggest and most important myth that many of the Irish to this day still believed in with religious fervor was to never cross the fairies, especially by hurting one they felt was under their protection.

“Trust me my boy; they’ll always find ways to take their revenge on you when you least expect it, and of course with the respectable permission from the good Lord himself.”

This belief and that statement had been repeated to Lian after she heard of his broken engagement with his high school and college sweetheart, Maeve. Granny McCann believed emphatically that men who possessed this level of stupidity to toss aside such a strong and solicitous partner, a perfectIrish Rose in her book, and guarded by the fairies themselves, deserved their retribution.

“Liam,” President Burns’ voice cut above the other voices in the room, who were still greeting him as he slowly made his way to the conference table to sit down. His legs felt like lead, as he reached for the only chair available to him to steady the jerking motion traveling through his body; he was pretty sure everyone noticed. The only chair available was directly in front of Maeve.

So much for using avoidance in this situation.

“I would like to introduce you to the Down GAA Fundraising and Events subcommittee chair, Maeve Quinn.”

Rising, Liam leaned across the table, extending his hand in a gesture of greeting towards Maeve.

“A pleasure.”

Her thin sweet smile laced with venom reaching into her eyes drilled into him her distinct hatred of not only his physical being but his soul. Watching her closely, Liam noted she used her thumb and fingertips to grasp his extended hand with barely any contact. The touch communicated her scorn, while projecting a silent opinion of him and a certain repulsion that she had to make any physical contact with him.

Did he really expect her to greet him otherwise after these years? Maybe, despite that, it was her simple frost-laced reply that stung him more than her actions.

“Ah, the famous Mr. McCann.”

Her greeting was callous to his ears; knowing he deserved it. He had been labeled the initiator in destroying their engagement without a worthwhile explanation of what she’d heard the night of his graduation party. Just claiming he’d had too much to drink, or that his teammates had set him up, wasn’t never going to be enough of an apology for being such an eejit.

Still, before he could even explain his actions, or find an opportunity to apologize, she just disappeared from his life–nota return phone call or meeting up with their mutual friends. You would have thought that they had never crossed paths, or, for that matter, had dated on and off since secondary school for five years. Liam knew she left for America soon after things ended to continue her education–and now here she was sitting in front of him, making him very aware she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Thank you again, Liam, for joining us. We have a lot of ground to cover concerning the last steps we need to complete our promotional events. I predict a great deal of positive publicity for both Gaelic sports and Ireland’s future Olympic teams. Do you agree?”

“Of course, President Burns, whatever you need from Team Ireland, we are all in.”

“Great to hear. It isn’t every day we can stand united in making Gaelic sports an integral part of the Olympic movement. Now, Aisling, why don’t you give us an update of where we stand, and Maeve, please add anything you feel will help in coordinating this first event with Down GAA. It’s a brilliant idea to use the upcoming Warrenpoint festival to kick things off.” Burns chuckled as his own joke. “Of course, no pun intended, and I, right?”

Liam continued watching Maeve, rolling her eyes at the poor joke attempt that was now dissipating around the table as Aisling’s droned on with her presentation. In between asking his own questions and potential concerns any participant volunteering might face, he continued listening as Maeve interjected her own inquiries. His unexpected presence was making her feel uncomfortable when she glanced up suddenly, catching him observing her closely.

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