Page 31 of Twist of Fate
We fall into an easy conversation, Deidre and I, and although Aisling mostly remains quiet, I can see her icy exterior gradually starting to melt as she listens.
“You’ve really been to Ireland that many times?” I ask, observing the woman who’s about the size of my left pinky as she tackles her second Guinness of the night.
“I have.” She nods, fiddling with her long blond braid. While their hair colors are nearly identical, Deidre’s deep brown eyes present a stark contrast to Aisling’s. “My dad immigrated from County Clare when he was young, and he never got the chance to return. We didn’t have much money growing up, and that was one of his deepest regrets. I promised that if I ever had it—money, that is—I’d go back for him.”
“Well, I think you’ve done that and then some.”
“Ireland just feels more like home than anywhere else.” She shrugs. “Maybe that’s why I’ve been trying to get Ash to come here for so long.”
“It seems your persistence paid off.”
“Something like that,” she says, looking at her daughter with a mix of emotions I don’t quite grasp. Concern, perhaps?
When our food arrives, she uses the interruption to change the subject, asking me about my life as a tour guide.
“Is this what you do full time?”
“It is.” I nod, taking a bite of my grilled salmon.
“Sounds like grueling work. So much travel.”
“It is, but fortunately, I don’t have many attachments, so it works for now.” My eyes meet Aisling’s before she looks back down at her plate. It’s the same expression I noticed on the bus earlier when the comedian and his friends were talking about the World Cup. She gazed out of that bus window as if she were haunted by something, and I wasn’t sure why, but something urged me to change the subject.
“Do you always lead the same tour? I’m surprised we haven’t run into one another before now. I’ve probably done a dozen or so with O’Connell Tours.”
Considering we currently only offer eight, that is impressive. “I’ve done all of them at some point, but I usually get assigned to the few that depart from Dublin since that’s my home base.”
We finish our meals, and Deidre and I continue to chat while Aisling listens. As much as I wish she’d participate, I know she’s listening intently, and that makes me feel smug as fuck.
She could be out at some restaurant listening to the arsehole comedian drone on for hours about hiking the Swiss Alps or his dull job back in America. Instead, she’s here with me, and while that shouldn’t make me happy because she’s still extremely off-limits, it does.
It really fucking does.
“Can I get anyone dessert?” the waiter asks, coming to the side of the table.
Before I can answer, Deidre looks at the two of us and says, “I’m actually starting to feel tired, but you two should stay.”
“What?” Aisling blurts out. “No, I don’t need dessert. I can head up with you.”
Her mam waves her off. “Hush, I’m fine.” She’s already pushing her chair back. Her daughter’s death stare is now fixed squarely on her. “I already ruined your plans once tonight. Don’t let me do it again.”
“Mother,” she practically hisses as Deidre rises and pats the waiter on the shoulder.
“Dinner’s on me. Can you charge it to room 403, dear?”
Before I have a chance to tell her that I can’t actually let her pay for my dinner (company policy), she strolls away from the table, with a definite pep in her step. Pretty spry for a woman who just told us she’s too tired to make it through the rest of dinner.
I turn back to Aisling, who has a look of horror written across her face.
“I think we’ve just been set up,” I say.
She buries her head in her napkin and lets out a tiny but shrill scream. “I’m going to kill her.”
“I could just leave,” I offer. But even as the words leave my mouth, I know I don’t want to. I shouldn’t, but I want to stay here with her.
“No.” She lets out a sigh. “Because if I don’t come back with a story to regale her with, she’ll feel bad, and then I’ll feel bad. It’ll be a whole thing.”
I let out a laugh. “So, we’re doing this?”
