Page 24 of Heart Strings
The joke doesn’t land. My mom purses her lips and surveys every inch of my living room. She’s visited me twice since I moved here, but insisted that she wanted to see it again before I drop her off at the castle. She examines the contents of my fridge, then surveys my coffee table, opens a decorative box and holds up a matchbook inside, printed withHare’s Breath: Cold Pints, Good Craic.
“Cielo Valdez, are you smoking?”
I point to the jar next to it. “Mom, they’re for candles.”
She takes a sniff and pulls a disapproving face at the “Autumn Leaves” scent. “Burning paraffin releases carcinogens.” She marches to the kitchen and unceremoniously dumps the candle into the trash. “Aunt Sharon has been selling soy candles that smell marvelous. I’ll send you one.”
Indignation flashes through me. Keeping the peace isimportant for the wedding weekend to go well, but she’s literally throwing my belongings in the garbage.
“Mom.” Clenching my teeth, I cross the room and pull the candle out of the trash. I rinse it under the tap. Having a task to do somehow makes this interaction easier. “You don’t get to choose how I decorate my house.”
“I said I’ll send you a new one.”
“This isn’t about a candle. I can take care of myself. I exercise and take my supplements religiously. I eat well most of the time—”
“There’s a candy wrapper in your trash.”
I draw in a deep breath, willing my anger away. For years, I’ve been following a guide set by an oncology dietician. It’s true that Skittles and popcorn are my favorite cheats. I indulge more when I’m stressed, but overall, I’m pretty disciplined. Not that I need to explain the contents of my garbage.
“You’re my only child.” Exasperation colors her voice.
“But I’mnotan actual child. Just trust me, okay? I have a vested interest in keeping myself alive.”
She huffs as if she’s the one aggrieved.
I snatch my short white coat from the hook along with the engraved stethoscope my dad sent when I was accepted to the University of Galway. “Ready to see the castle now? I have to get to the hospital by six.”
She plants a hand on her hip. “You’re working? Tonight? You’re not even going to visit with me?”
Guilt mixes with my still-simmering anger. She did come 4,500 miles.
“Every clinical hour is important. I’m already taking a three-day weekend.” Not to mention, I’d lose all my hair againif I spent too many days with her. “We’ll get to see each other, I promise.”
My mom is moody the whole ride there, feigning indifference as I point out landmarks along the way. I silently wonder if I’m a crappy host, dumping her at the accommodations right after picking her up. If I’m a crappy daughter for deciding to go to school in another country.
Castle Teachan’s medieval silhouette and ornamental trees come into view. I carry my mom’s suitcase to the door, where we’re met by a concierge. Before I picked up my mom at the airport, I’d delivered the guest baskets Aidan and I had assembled last night.
With a glance back at my idling car in the drop-off lane, I say, “I’m glad you’re here, Mom. See you tomorrow.”
The next afternoon,the contents of my suitcase are laid out on the hotel bed like a postmortem exam. I’ve brought anything and everything that makes me feel more prepared for the emotional gauntlet that is this weekend.
Castle Teachan has just as much romantic ambiance on the inside. My room is anchored by a massive four-post bed and lined in tapestries, a decorative sword, and sconces that I’d swear were lit by real candles if I hadn’t just turned them on with a switch. Touches of modern luxury balance out the traditional opulence.
My reflection peers back at me from an ornate mirror. I got less than three hours of sleep after returning home from mytwelve-hour shift at six-thirty this morning. Between a double espresso, a caffeine-infused eye mask, a metric ton of concealer, and a chic linen jumpsuit…I actually look good. It’s a miracle.
The way Aidan stared at me when we were assembling the gift bags still ricochets through my brain. His melodic voice, daring me to go on.
I want him to look at me like that again. I want to tempt him.
I want…
There’s a cheerful rap at my door; it’s Lark and Callum.
“Hope you’re hungry. The lunch buffet is starting,” she chirps.
I step out, practically running straight into Aidan as he emerges from the room next door. The idea of him sleeping so close, just beyond a wall, makes my chest feel like it’s filled with lead.
“Hey,” he says casually.
