CHAPTER SIX
Kieran suggested Connelly’s Pub for our next meet-up with his parents. I suspect they’re used to something fancier, which is why I proposed Luigi’s for our first meeting, but I can’t argue with Connelly’s. It’s one of my regular places and a long-time favorite among Village employees, so I know the food is great and the atmosphere is casual and comfortable.
Despite promising to meet Kieran early so we could have a few minutes to ourselves, I get caught up in management stuff at the Village minutes before I’m due to leave. Short of walking out on the two employees having a dispute, I have to wait until things get sorted. Between that and the fact I’ve been averaging about four hours of sleep for the past several nights, I’m a wreck.
By the time I reach Connelly’s, my heart is racing and I’m so out of breath you’d think I had run here instead of driving. If I were to examine my body’s reaction a little closer and be perfectly honest with myself, I’m sure I’d realize the majority of my anxiety is coming not from the fact I’m late and hate being late, but from the thought of seeing Kieran again after our last encounter.
Before getting out of the car, I take a minute to catch my breath and collect myself. I flip the visor down to check my reflection and make sure I don’t look like a sweaty, disheveled mess. When my phone vibrates in my purse for the second time in as many minutes, I don’t bother checking it since it’s likely Kieran texting to see where the hell I am.
I rush inside and almost head upstairs to the pub by force of habit. Changing course, I veer toward the dining room, waving at the hostess as I bypass her when I spot Kieran’s wavy hair not far away. He and his parents are at a table for four, with Kieran seated next to his mother, and his dad across from her. Kieran spots me first and he hops to his feet to greet me.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, I got held up at work and—”
“Don’t worry about it, you’re here now.” Kieran gives me a tight smile. There’s a hint of relief in it, making me wonder if he thought I’d bailed on him after all. He inches toward me, his arms twitching at his sides. It dawns on me he’s as unsure as I am about how to proceed.
I close the distance between us, giving him a quick hug, along with an over-enthusiastic thump on the back. The kind of hug I imagine someone would give their brother. I release him quickly, turning my attention to his mom, who greets me warmly and insists I call her Maeve. I brace myself to greet Mr. O’Malley and nearly do a double take when I find him standing behind my chair, waiting for me to sit.
“Thank you,” I say, flopping inelegantly into the seat. My purse falls to the floor, and rather than picking it up I simply kick it under the table.God, Meredith, get it together. “I hope you three weren’t waiting long.”
“Not at all, dear,” Maeve assures me. She seems more relaxed than she did last week. Maybe not having her older children around takes some of the pressure off. Or maybe the half-drunk glass of wine in front of her has something to do with it.
“Meredith.”
My head snaps up to meet Kieran’s eyes. The way he’s looking at me makes me think this isn’t the first time he’s said my name. My gaze drops again to where I’ve mindlessly been straightening everything within reach—my napkin and silverware, the menu, the salt and pepper shakers. He reaches out to cover my hands with his. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, you seem flustered, dear,” Maeve says. “Are you quite all right?”
I open my mouth to answer, but Mr. O’Malley cuts in with, “Have you two had a lover’s spat?”
Kieran’s fingers spasm where they rest on top of mine. “Can’t have a lover’s spat when you’re not lovers.”
I wish they’d stop saying ‘lovers’. For some reason the word is making my cheeks tingle, which likely means I’m blushing. Which, I’m sure, will make Kieran’s asshat of a dad think he’s right.
Kieran leans closer and I meet his concerned blue gaze. “Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?”
“Oh.” I sit up straighter, shooting a glance at Maeve before looking back at Kieran. “Wouldn’t that be rude?”
His lips press together and he rolls his eyes, tilting his head toward his father in a gesture that clearly conveys a sarcastic‘please’. I suppose he’s right. Why worry about being rude when you’re at a table with someone who treats you like you’re too stupid to know your own mind.
“Excuse us for a moment,” Kieran says, mostly addressing his mother as he rises from his seat. I stand too and he puts his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the quiet corridor where the bathrooms and staff room are.
During the short walk, I give myself a stern talking to. It basically goes like this:Get your shit together, Meredith. And if you can’t do that, at least pretend you’re a functioning adult. Kieran has enough stress to deal with from his parents, so don’t add to it with your weirdness. In fact, don’t let therebeweirdness.
By the time we stop walking, I don’t even give him a chance to speak before I say, “I really am sorry I was late. I had a work issue and I haven’t been getting much sleep, so my brain is just—” I make an exploding motion with my hands around my head. I expect him to laugh or at least crack a smile, but if anything he looks more concerned than before. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I know things got a bit awkward between us the other night, but that doesn’t have to carry over into today. I’ll be by your side to lend you support, and then…”
“And then.” He phrases it like a statement rather than a question. He knows what comes next. We go our separate ways and likely never see each other again.
Unable to meet his eyes, I stare straight ahead at his chest. He’s wearing a denim jacket over a black shirt, paired with dark jeans. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy and adorable, and it makes me want to snuggle him, which would cause a whole new set of problems. “Your parents will be returning to Ireland soon and you’ll figure out what you want to do. Whether you decide to stick around, continue with school, and maybe try to make some friends, or you ultimately decide to go home, just remember the decision isyours.”
I finish speaking and raise my eyes to find him watching me. I can’t read his expression. Or maybe I can and just don’t want to see what I think is there: a mixture of melancholy and longing. The same thing is probably reflected in my own eyes.
He’s quiet for a moment before giving a short, decisive nod. “Wanna just hide out here for awhile? See how long it takes them to come looking for us?”
I laugh at the unexpected joke. Some of the tension seems to ease between us as he chuckles along. “Yeah, actually. Or maybe you and I could head upstairs and have a beer in the pub.”
“Gladly.” He takes one of my hands, swinging it casually in his. His smile falters and he goes to pull away, but I hold on, giving his fingers a squeeze. “I suppose we should get back. Face the music, as they say. I’ll still buy you that beer, though. Or I guess my dad will since he’s paying.” He gives me a mischievous grin, and I could sob with relief that things seem to be returning to normal between us. Whatever normal is for two people who have met a total of three times.
“Deal.”
