Page 2 of Heart Strings
“I was ovulating when I said that. He’s nice, but I’d prefer not to make things weird by sleeping with anyone in my study group. And I don’t want to bring some random dude to your wedding.”
“Suit yourself,” Lark says.
“I’ll be too busy doing maid of honor duties, anyway. You’ll have activities to keep everyone busy over this weekend, right?” I ask. With enough distractions, I can get through this.
“Of course. The castle has all kinds of stuff. Local whisky tastings and yoga classes and even falconry! Ain’t that wild?”
Think I could train a bird to peck Aidan’s eyes out?I don’t say.
I love Lark, but we’re at different places in our lives. Though we probably always have been, given our six-year age difference. When we were younger and my mom was reinforcing the protective bubble around me, Lark took me under her wing. She listened to my restless teenage rants, and when I was healthy enough, she indulged me in a few harmless adventures to keep me sane. When Lark suddenly lost her husband about four years ago, I repaid the favor as best I could. It wasn’t good for her to stay in that newly hollow house, so I invited her to crash at my off-campus apartment in Austin until she managed to sell her home and move to Galway for a fresh start. Not long afterward, I followed her abroad to attend medical school. I’d been the unofficial maid of honor at her first marriage’s impulsive courthouse ceremony. This time around, she wants the fairy tale. God knows she deserves her happily ever after. Even if I have to walk down the aisle with the frog I used to believe was a prince, I want to be a part of it.
With a fortifying breath, I sling an arm around her shoulders. “All right, a weekend with Aidan, then. No bigdeal.”
Chapter 1
Aidan
September
“You’re listening toToday’s Top Forty live from London. This morning, we are joined in the studio by breakout Irish singer-songwriter Aidan O’Toole. You might know him from the summer smash ‘Come Here to Me,’ which hit number three on the Irish charts and number twenty on UK Billboard. Welcome to the show, Aidan.”
Adjusting my headphones, I lean close to the mic. “Thanks for having me. I’ve been a longtime fan.”
“Please tell our listeners a bit about yourself. You were raised in County Cork, adopted by Galway.”
“Yes! I’m sure they’re happy to claim you,” her co-host interjects with a hand on my arm. Her cheeks pinken when I flash a smile.
“I live here in London now. Galway is where my family is, though, and I’m heading back there for a month. Leaving London tomorrow, actually.”
“We hate to see you go…”
Don’t worry,I think,it won’t be permanent.
“Let’s talk aboutHeaven-Bound,” the main host says. “It’s been nominated for the RTÉ Choice Music Prize.”
“And well-deserved! It’s so heartfelt.”
“Thank you. It still hasn’t sunk in, really, but it’s such an honor.”
I adjust the collar of the designer button-down the label’s stylist asked me to wear today. Being dressed by someone else makes me feel like a paper doll.
“On the album, there’s an arc of hope, of ecstasy, of loss,” the host opines. “Honestly, I can’t listen to that last song without getting a little lump in my throat.”
“Tell me about it!” the other host jumps in. “The first time I listened, I ruined the eye makeup I was trying to apply because I couldn’t stop crying but I didn’t want to turn it off. Which gave me flashbacks of my Sufjan Stevens phase.”
They share a quick chuckle.
“You’re too kind,” I say. “To even be mentioned in the same breath as an artist like Sufjan…”
“Really, it captured heartbreak so vividly,” the first one adds. “And now the whole music world wants to know, who is this Irishman and who did he write these songs about?”
“Yes, are they all about the same muse? The songs seem too personal to simply be about character archetypes. You write about the different facets of love so well.”
“I fall in love all the time,” I lie. “I’ve fallen in love hundreds of times. Lyrics come easier when I have the right inspiration.”
In the past, I’d fall fast, although admittedly, never deep.Not until Cielo. She made me realize those passing fascinations and lust hadn’t been love at all. Two years after our separation, I still catch myself looking for glimmers of her in strangers. Sometimes I even realize I’ve been subconsciously scanning the front row, seeking her smoky hazel eyes so I can sing directly to her.
I haven’t been truly in love with anyone before or since Lo.
