CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Are road trip snacks necessary if the destination is only an hour away?”
I watch with amusement as Kieran folds a pair of jeans, then shakes them out and rolls them tightly instead.
“Snacks are a necessity regardless of the length of the road trip.” I lean over from my perch on his desk chair and remove two of the five pairs of socks he’s stuffed into his duffel bag. “We’re only going for two nights. Unless you think your feet are going to be extremely sweaty or you plan to tromp around in puddles, I don’t think you needfivepairs of socks.”
Some of the tension eases from his face, and his lips twitch before pressing together in a firm line. It’s his signaturetrying not to laughexpression. Sometimes it works and other times laughter bursts out of him.
“Why are you so nervous?” I ask, despite already knowing the answer. This is our first trip together, and even though it’s only an hour away it feels like a big deal. We’ve been together for almost two months now, and although we sleep together more often than not, we still haven’t had sex. This will be the first time we’retrulyalone, with no noisy housemates wandering past his room at all hours, no roommate down the hall in my house, no work to occupy me until I fall asleep at my keyboard. Just me and Kieran, alone in a rented house for two nights.
Instead of answering, he picks up two t-shirts from the bed and crams them into his bag. A second later, he takes them out, folds them neatly, and lays them back in the duffel. Now I’m the one pressing my lips together to keep from laughing. He’s been twitchy and jittery all morning. It shouldn’t be funny, and yet somehow it is. Maybe it’s partly because for onceI’mthe calm one.
It’s been a couple of weeks since the fun fair at the college, and things have been great, especially between Kieran and me. I’m feeling much better…most of the time. I’m still dealing with some fatigue, despite sleeping well most nights, and I have moments where I get so lost in my thoughts I’m oblivious to anything or anyone around me. I also find myself still crying easily, but it’s getting better. Kieran has been patient and understanding through all of it, and I’m working hard to get back to the girl I used to be.
Kieran’s architecture and design class has been invited to attend a series of special lectures at Queen’s University in Kingston. Transportation and accommodation would have been provided, but since I’m from Kingston and know the city well, I suggested we go together so I could show him around between lectures. When he agreed, I made an appointment with the head of Birch Hill to discuss my mom’s continued care there, along with the funding issue. I’m excited to show Kieran around the city where I grew up, and I’m hopeful it’ll be a perfect mix of work and play.
With ‘play’ on my mind, I rise from my chair and wrap my arms around Kieran from behind. He tenses as I lift up on my toes, plastering the length of my body against him. “I hope somewhere in that over-packed bag of yours is a box of condoms.”
He jolts as if I just pinched him. A devilish thrill surges through me, prompting me to press even closer and nip at his neck.
“Meredith.” His voice is a low growl, mixed with a hint of pleading. When I don’t move, he rifles through his bag and pulls out a box of condoms, raising them to my eye level.
“Glad to see we’re on the same page, Mr. O’Malley.” I kiss the spot right under his ear and release him, returning to my chair. He watches me warily from the corner of his eye, then turns to look at me head on.
“You’re quite pleased with yourself today, aren’t you?”
A laugh tumbles out of me. “I am. I feel good.”
His face softens, a hint of a smile flirting around his mouth. He drops the pajama pants he’s holding and takes the few steps to where I’m sitting. Warm hands cup my face as he bends so we’re eye to eye. “We’re going to have a grand time.”
“I have no doubt.” I tilt my face up for him to kiss me. I really do feel good. Maybe it’s the prospect of a road trip; I’ve been missing my old life lately and the ability to pick up and go whenever I wanted. This isn’t quite the same as booking a plane ticket and seeing where the wind takes me, but I’m grateful for the short break and the change of scenery. I’m also feeling confident in my relationship with Kieran. We’ve formed a deep emotional bond unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and while we’ve delved into the physical aspect of our relationship in many wonderful ways, I’m ready to be with him completely.
Despite wanting to hold onto him and kiss him forever, there’s time for that later. For now, we need to get on the road.
*****
The drive to Kingston only takes about an hour. I avoid the highway and take the scenic route instead, through small towns and long stretches of farmland. Kieran and I stopped for coffee and donuts as our ‘road trip snacks’, and we’re cruising with the windows open and a playlist I made blasting from the speakers.
I’m not the only one feeling free and frisky today. Kieran started singing along to every song, altering his voice between his regular pitch, a high falsetto, and straight-out shouting some lyrics. When “Stop” by the Spice Girls comes on and he not only sings along, but also does the dance routine, I nearly have to pull over because I’m laughing so hard.
It’s amazing to laugh and be so carefree. Spring truly does seem to have brought about a change in me. I crave more days like this, where I feel like my old self again. A splash of color catches my attention, and I take my eyes off the road for a second to admire a field of daffodils. The old me would take that as a sign from the universe. I decide to let the new me take it as a sign too.
When we arrive in Kingston, we head straight to the Airbnb we booked. The place is exactly as advertised—a cute two bedroom cottage-like house on a quiet street less than five minutes from downtown and the waterfront. I barely give Kieran enough time to set his bag down and have a look around before I’m pulling him out the door.
We decide to start with lunch. In the spirit of feeling cheeky, I take him to my favorite Irish pub, Tir Nan Og, a place I spent many a night downing pints of beer during my college days. The lunch rush hasn’t started yet, so we have our choice of seating in the cozy, low-lit restaurant. Kieran picks one of the few window seats so we can look out over City Hall and Market Square.
“This place is grand. I feel like I’m in Ireland.” His gaze roams the room, lingering on the polished hardwood bar with its gleaming glasses and bottles of spirits.
“That’s how I always feel when I’m here too,” I tell him. Without meaning to, I let out a loud sigh. Kieran tilts his head, one eyebrow lifting higher than the other. “I miss traveling. I used to be on the go all the time, always booking my next plane or train ticket, looking into group tours or out-of-the-ordinary experiences I could write about. I miss getting lost in a huge crowd or being so deep in nature it feels like I’m the only person on the planet.”
Kieran nods slowly. “It’s been a big adjustment for you.” It’s a statement rather than a question. We’ve talked a bit about this before, but I try to avoid the subject. Part of it is because I don’t want to seem like I’m complaining—I’m fully aware of how privileged I was to do so much traveling for so long—and the other part of it is because talking about it makes me miss it even more. Kieran understands, though. He always understands.
Before I can say anything, the waitress approaches the table to take our drink order. Her welcoming smile morphs into a huge grin when she hears Kieran’s accent. I watch with amusement as she quizzes him about Ireland and why he’s here in Canada, and asks him to repeat certain words because she likes the way they sound in his accent. I can’t blame her, considering I still do the same thing.
As soon as she’s gone, Kieran asks, “Could you plan a short trip?” It takes me a moment to realize he’s picked up our conversation where we left off before the waitress came. “I know you were used to being gone for weeks at a time, but could you do a week or so? You must have friends all over Europe who would let you kip on their sofa.”
I think of Fiona in London. She shares a house with other tour guides who work for the same company, but she’s told me several times she’d happily set up a roll-away bed in her room any time I wanted to visit. Now that we’re Facebook friends, I’ve been following along on her adventures, living vicariously, and we message each other regularly. Sometimes that vicarious living makes me feel better, and other times it makes me feel worse. I guess it goes back to that whole masochist thing. “I’d definitely be up for a short trip, but I’m not sure I can afford it right now.”
