“It’s nice,” she thanks me. “Did you know I’ve
never been here?”
“It’s a good thinking spot. I come here when I
need to.”
“And let’s see here … what do you need to
think about? Which idiot to sleep with?”
She freezes as soon as I turn to look at her.
“Uhm, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Erin is contrite. “It’s certainly not my business and
you’ve been so good to me and now I’m attacking
you.”
“It’s the hormones,” I tell her, smiling.
She doesn’t reply, she just turns to look at the
horizon and gets lost in her thoughts.
I don’t want to bother her, so I limit myself to
taking in the panoramic view too. It’s a natural
stretch of land whose tip disappears into the sea
and where on clear days you can see the lighthouse
in the distance and also the Ireland Eye. It’s
undoubtedly a breathtaking view, especially at
sunset, but I can’t help taking in her perfect profile
out of the corner of my eye: her upturned nose, her
windblown hair. It seems like an image a painter
would create in order to transform something that
was already perfect into something sublime.
What the devil am I doing? I don’t need this,
and I sure don’t need her.
“I don’t know what to do,” she confides in me
suddenly without moving her glance away from
the view. “I’d really like to think I could do it, but
