CHAPTER TWO
“How hot is hot? On a sliding scale of Colin Morgan to Colin Farrell, how hot is he?”
I side-eye my best friend, Ivy, watching her swivel from side to side in her desk chair. She smirks, making me laugh despite myself. I just finished telling her the bare minimum about Kieran, and that’s only because he’s coming here to Bellevue Village where Ivy might see us together. After agreeing to be Kieran’s companion, he wondered if we should meet for a getting-to-know-you session before lunch with his parents next week, so I suggested the Village since it’s where I’m most comfortable.
“He’s…” I think back to Kieran’s profile picture on the HTC site. I may or may not have spent a solid ten minutes studying it last night after we agreed to meet today. I told myself it was only so I’d recognize him when I met him at the café, and not for any other, possibly inappropriate reason. “Since you’re apparently using a scale of Irish hotties, I’ll say he’s Colin O’Donoghue hot. Ooh, or Aidan Turner. He’s Irish, right? Except Kieran’s more…boyish.”
Ivy’s eyebrows bounce around on her forehead. “Yum. Good luck with that.”
“Yeah, thanks. You’re a big help.”
I’m spared from further quizzing when the door to Ivy’s office opens and Hugh strides in. His moss-colored eyes land on me first, and a broad smile lights his features. We share a quick hug before he rounds Ivy’s desk and gathers her in his arms. They probably saw each other less than an hour ago, but they almost always greet each other this way.
Watching them gives me a case of the warm fuzzies. I’ve had a front-row seat through their entire relationship, right from the day they met at this very place. Bellevue Village—formerly Santa’s Village, open only two months of the year—started as Hugh’s project, and I worked as one of the head elves. It was the perfect situation for me because I was a travel writer at the time and winter adventures weren’t really my thing, so I was able to dedicate those two months of the year to working here full-time. Hugh and I clicked from the beginning, forming a sibling-like bond, and when Ivy started working here she and I became fast friends too.
A few months after they met and fell in love, Hugh and Ivy teamed up and opened the Village as a year-round amusement park. I had already been traveling less because of my mom’s condition, so when they asked me to join the management team full-time I jumped at their offer. Great pay, great benefits, and getting to work with my two closest friends? Hell yeah. A few months later when the opportunity came along to work for Human Touch Companions, my mom had just gone into Birch Hill and I desperately needed to stay busy so the despair wouldn’t take over.
“What brings you by today?” Hugh asks, his Scottish accent wrapping around the words. Even after years of knowing him, there are still moments when it delights me to hear that burr and the way he rolls his Rs. “You’re not picking up another shift, are you?”
“She’s meeting a guy,” Ivy says, reclining in her seat and shooting me a grin.
“It’s not like that,” I say before Hugh can respond. “It’s for HTC.”
“You don’t often work with the lads.” From the way his brow is twitching, I know he’s trying to appear casual when what hereallywants is to go into big brother mode.
“Not usually, but these were…special circumstances. Don’t worry, you know I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” A year or so into my solo travels, I met up with a group of girls in London and we took a few self-defense classes together. I may look sweet and innocent, but I could take down a man Hugh’s size if I needed to.
Hugh’s eyes twinkle. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”
I leave Ivy’s office a few minutes later and make my way through the Village to the café. A little seed of guilt niggles at me for not telling Ivy and Hugh about the letter from Birch Hill. Hugh saw my mom regularly over the years before her diagnosis, and he even helped me move her to Birch Hill last year. He was adamant about me not going through it alone.
And because Hugh was there with me and he’d been such a great friend for so long, my mom felt it was a good time to drop a bomb that was almost worse than when she first told me about her Alzheimer’s diagnosis. She wanted me to promise her I would stop visiting her once she no longer remembered who I was. Overtaken by sorrow mixed with helplessness and anger, I argued for all I was worth, but she wouldn’t budge on her decision. She swore Birch Hill offered the best care imaginable, and she would be comfortable and well looked after there. She knew I would grieve for her, but she reasoned once the essence of her was gone I’d be grieving anyway, and I would suffer twice as much because we’d always been so close. She said she was ultimately doing it for me so I could move on and continue living my life without the added pain of regular visits to a stranger who had my mother’s face.
Part of me hated her in that moment, and hated Hugh too for solemnly agreeing with her when she pressed for his opinion. But she made me promise, knowing I’m a woman of my word. She told me she knew I’d find solace and strength in my friends, and I have.
I’m so grateful for their support, and yet I know what would happen if I told them the current situation: Hugh, who inherited money from his parents when they died, and who has made a ton of his own money in business, would offer to give me whatever I need to keep Mom in Birch Hill. He and Ivy would ask how they could help and if I wanted to talk, and basically smother me with love and sympathy.
While that may sound perfect, I can’t handle any of it right now. I want to lean on my friends, and the rational part of me knows Ishould, but the part of me that’s felt so fragile since Mom moved into Birch Hill is afraid I would shatter and not be able to put the pieces back together. I can’t afford to let that happen. This is my problem, not theirs.
My feet stumble on the smooth asphalt.My problem. The seed of guilt inside me sprouts into a beanstalk that would rival Jack and the giant’s, ripping through me and squeezing my heart with painful force. My mom is not aproblem. Making sure she doesn’t have a single thing to worry about is the least I can do for the woman who loved me unconditionally my whole life.
I’m so lost in thought I almost don’t realize someone has stopped in front of me until they lightly touch my shoulder.
“Meredith?”
My gaze locks with a pair of light blue eyes. Kieran. He looks exactly like his profile picture on HTC, except for his hair, which appears a deep, rich auburn in the pale spring sunshine. He clears his throat, making me realize I’ve been staring at his hair, completely lost in the threads of red and gold and brown.
I do a mental facepalm.Way to make a first impression, Meredith.
“H-hi, yes, it’s me,” I say quickly, holding out my hand to shake his. “Sorry, I was just…”
“Off with the faeries, as my gran would say.” His concerned expression is replaced by a bright smile as he grips my hand and shakes it enthusiastically. I should be used to accents by now after knowing Hugh for years, plus Bridget’s husband David is from England, but Kieran’s lyrical lilt is a whole different thing.
“Off with the faeries,” I agree. I remember hearing that saying on my first trip to Ireland many years ago, and the imagery it evokes always makes me smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” Our hands remain locked in a handshake that’s gone on much longer than necessary. Finally, he slips his palm from mine and tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Of course. You had a point about us getting to know each other if we want to convince your family we’re good enough friends for you to bring me along to meet them.” I motion toward the café and we take the last few steps to the door, which he opens for me to go first. Darryl, the owner of the café, is behind the counter; I send him a quick wave as I wind around the tables to a two-seater in a quiet corner. “This okay?”
