Page 3 of Over Verdant Irish Hills

No, not for her. She’d had her boys, which was a full-time job, and for years she’d told herself it was enough. Inside, she knew different, but she’d kept sweeping that knowledge under the rug as if it were a patch of dust on a lazy day.

“I want to know it’s going to be better this time if I’m going to take the risk,” she said as the path filled with a lace-like pattern from the sunlight above. “That the passion will keep going and not—”

“Fizzle out,” Sorcha said, smiling widely. “Only you two can ultimately decide that, but what Icansay, Bets, is that everything is attuned for that to happen. You will be happier than you’ve ever imagined—as a woman, as a lover, as a friend. It’s a love for the ages, Bets, the kind you’ve always wanted.”

Emotion burned in her throat. “A love for the ages, huh? That’s a pretty big endorsement.”

“True love is a big feeling.” Sorcha’s green eyes narrowed with intensity. “The question I have for you is simple: are you brave enough to reach for it?”

She disappeared without another word.

Apparently even ghosts could drop the mike.

“Mum!”

Liam’s yell startled her and made her jog down the path, her mind and heart all topsy-turvy after that conversation. Her son was waiting for her by the back door.

“I couldn’t give you any longer, or we’ll be late. Can you be ready in five minutes?”

She patted his cheek. “Liam, I used to shower and dress in a minute flat when I was raising you boys. We’ll be on time.”

She made a liar out of herself after tugging on her red dress and looking in the bathroom mirror. “Holy shit.” The early July sun had reddened and mottled her cheeks, making her look like a cooked lobster. She didn’t want Linc to see her like this.

Linc! The man who could read her mind. Her soulmate. Apparently. Maybe. According to a ghost, who admittedly had a 4-0 track record.

“I’m going to go crazy.”

She knocked over bottles on her vanity reaching for her powder and brush. Maybe some mascara too. No lipstick. Then she’d look like a creepy lobster. Something neutral, she thought, fumbling in her makeup bag.

“Oh, where is it?” she asked, opening three tubes in a row and not finding the color she was looking for.

“Mum!”

Liam’s roar was not to be denied. She rushed out of her bathroom, picked up her sandals, and then ran down the hall as fast as she could. Which wasn’t fast. Cooked lobsters didn’t run. She had a stitch in her side by the time she reached the bottom stairs. Liam had the front door open, waving her to him.

“Come on, Mum!”

Outside she watched him stop beside his motorcycle. On the back were two helmets.

“You’re kidding! Liam, I just brushed my hair.”

“Mum, we have ten minutes until the wedding starts, and you didn’t take into account the parking situation or the long walk to the pasture. I did.”

“Oh, no,” she moaned but dutifully fitted the helmet over her head and threw her leg over the motorcycle after him like he’d taught her.

He tucked her dress around her legs—her old, pale legs, making her lobster face burn with embarrassment.

“Hang on,” he yelled as he fired up the engine with a roar that crashed into her eardrums.

She realized she was still holding her sandals, and without thinking, pressed them in between her chest and his back as she latched her arms around him. Then he took off and all she knew was a rumble throughout her bones, the blur of the countryside, and the wind slapping at her skin.

When he finally eased off the speed, she lifted her helmeted head from his back and looked around. The newly paved lane to Linc’s tricked-out mobile home was more congested than the roads in town on boxing night. Liam sped around the edge of the cars and then skirted the sides of the pasture. No one was milling about chatting. People were already seated in their chairs, waiting for the bride to appear, and Brady stood at the end of the satin aisle with his brother, Declan, by his side.

She caught a movement at the back of the gathering and watched as the wedding party began to filter out of the back of the house. Linc was unmistakable in black tie.

Good God, he made her mouth go dry.

He turned his head to regard them, as did Ellie and her matron of honor, Kathleen. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, if he was happy to see her, if he’d missed her as much as she’d missed him, or what, and that set her back for a second.

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