“My mum’s from Castlebar in County Mayo.” He holds his hand out. “I’m Lyric, by the way.”
I accept his hand. He has a firm shake. “Rory.” I frown. “Lyric?”
“I know, not very Irish.”
“Nor’s your accent.”
He laughs. “My mum married a Scotsman, and for some reason, they settled in London.” He nudges his friend.
“I’m Toby.” The shorter man doesn’t attempt to shake my hand.
“Pleased to meet you both.” It’s not often that customers who are here with companions take the time to talk to me. “I’ve been to Castlebar.” I’m not sure why I offer that information.
Lyric tilts his head. “Oh? What did you think of it?”
“I went on holiday when I was a lad. It’s a gorgeous area. My dad wanted to climb Croagh Patrick, so we stayed above a pub in Castlebar.”
My chest squeezes at the memory. I was twelve, and Callan came with us. We shared a room and stayed up talking most nights. Often, one or both of us fell asleep mid-sentence.
“Did he climb the peak on Reek Sunday?” Lyric asks.
He’s referring to the last Sunday in July when Christian pilgrims descend on the area and climb the mountain.
I shake my head. “No. Dad decided it would be too busy, so we went earlier in the year and climbed it as a family.” I chuckle. “I wasn’t used to that kind of walking. I ended up with blisters on my blisters. Excuse me.” I break off to serve another customer. It doesn’t take me long to pour them a pint of Guinness.
“Did you go anywhere else while you were there?” Lyric leans on the bar, angling his body closer to me, and sips his whiskey.
“I don’t remember much else.” I pull my eyebrows together and stare at one of the beer taps as I try to recall more about the holiday. “We drove to Westport and got the ferry across to Clare Island.”
I smile until my cheeks ache as memories of the trip flutter into my mind. The island was tiny, so we were able to explore the thing on foot in a day. My parents had decided it was safe enough to let Callan and me roam wild. So we had. We’d scrambled all over the island, with only sheep for company. Heat blossoms in my chest, and my smile widens.
“Happy memories?” Toby asks.
“Aye. Some of the best.” I clear my throat and focus on Lyric. “You must have explored that whole area.”
“I never lived in Castlebar, but my grandparents do, so we used to go most summers. Sorry, I must be keeping you from your work.”
I gesture at the bar. “We’re not exactly flat out. Besides, it’s nice to meet a fellow Irish man.”
“I’m only half-Irish,” Lyric reminds me.
“And half-Scottish?”
“Yes, although I count myself a Londoner. I was born here, and I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
I can tell by his accent. It’s similar to Stefan and Beau’s—slightly posh.
Toby looks around. “This is an Irish bar, isn’t it?”
I nod.
“Don’t you get a lot of Irish people in here?”
I crack a smile. “Not as many as you’d think. Irish bars are two a penny in London. We get more tourists than anything.” I glance toward the door, but there’s no sign of Callan yet.
“Expecting someone?” Lyric asks.
“Maybe he’s bored of you,” Toby quips.
