And if you’re not certain that your wings can hold you…ask Fiona for help.She knows the way.
Give Mae a kiss for me.
Slán abhaile.
Love,
Murph
PS: Those arguments/excuses I predicted?Envelope #2 is meant to eradicate at least one of those.Now get planning.
When I finish reading, my eyes are burning with tears.I take out my phone and look up ‘slán abhaile’.It’s an Irish phrase meaning ‘safe home’ and is used to wish travellers a safe journey home.Chuckling to myself, I pick the letter back up and reread several parts.
Finally, I set the letter aside and open the second envelope.I pull out the creamy strip of paper inside and stare at it.It takes my brain much longer than it should to process what I’m seeing: a cheque with a hell of a lot of zeroes.
Pressure builds in my chest and rises to tickle my throat.I expect it to come out as a sob, but it spills out as uncontrollable laughter instead.
Slán abhaileindeed.It’s official: all signs point to Ireland.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX ~ FIONA
Arriving at Pearson feels much different today than it did two months ago.For starters, I was so lost in a grief fog, I barely remember that day in March.I have almost no recollection of the flight itself, I just remember sensations: the heaviness in my chest, the lump in my throat, and a sick feeling of dread in my gut.
Today it feels almost like coming home.I’m not entirely sure if Honeywell Hollow will ever be my permanent home, but a piece of my heart is there, the same way a piece is in London, with another in Ardmore, and another in Edinburgh.Over the last three weeks, I’ve realized where the biggest piece lies, though, and it’s not in a place.It’s in a person.
Despite the heaviness and regret I experienced over leaving Nathan, I feel lighter now that Mila and I are officially free from On the Go Travels.It all went much smoother than either of us anticipated.Thanks to intel from Deirdre in Sanjay’s office, we were able to ambush him the day after he returned to London.He was so fed up with our attempts to track him down, he told us he’d give us whatever we wanted.
He accepted our resignations, which saved us from having to arrange a meeting with our bosses, and told us he’d contact the company lawyers about dissolving the non-compete clause.He’d been cold and dismissive, and yet, he’d stopped us as we were leaving his office, and told us that despite his personal feelings toward us, we were two of the best guides On the Go had ever had.
My favourite moment, though, was Mila’s parting shot.“Oh, and Sanjay,” she’d said, her voice as sweet and smooth as honey.“Just a friendly reminder that the rules of the company apply to you too.We have alotof friends working for On the Go.If I get so much as awhiffof unprofessional behaviour from you, I won’t hesitate to turn over screenshots of our chats.”
We were both giggling from a mixture of relief and adrenaline by the time we exited the building.We spilled out onto the sidewalk, delighted to discover even the London weather seemed to be celebrating with us, having shifted from the heavy rain that was falling when we entered the building, to bright sunshine.
Mila and I packed up our things that same day and checked into a hotel.We spent the next week saying goodbye to friends and coworkers, all while hitting our favourite places in London.We called it our Farewell Tour, even though we both know our love story with London is far from over.After our week together, Mila headed home to Czechia to visit her family, while I gave in to my itchy feet and took myself on a little solo trip through England and Scotland.
I admit to experiencing some warring emotions over the last three weeks.I spent nearly eight years working for On the Go.I made incredible friends from all over the world, and experienced countless moments that live rent-free in my head.For it to end so unceremoniously—first with what still feels like an unfair suspension, and then having to force a meeting so we could quit—feels wrong.
I’m trying not to let the emotions of the last several weeks taint my overall feelings toward my time with On the Go, but it’s going to be a process.In the meantime, I’m free, and my future feels wide open.
Just like I did back in March, I have checked luggage this time around.When Mila and I packed up our things, I discovered I owned way more stuff than I realized.I donated what I could, but still filled two large suitcases, which were stored with a friend while I travelled.I’m not looking forward to hauling it all home on a bus and then a taxi, but my arrival is so last-minute, I told Mum not to send anyone for me.After years of international travel, I’m perfectly capable of getting to Honeywell on my own.
Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t search the waiting crowd for Nathan.We haven’t spoken in the three weeks I’ve been gone.I picked up my phone countless times to call or text him—the way I still do to call or text Dad—but stopped myself.I honoured his request for space before I left, and I figured that should extend to after I left too.
I’m heading for the exit when I hear someone call my name, followed by the sound of running feet.I only have a few seconds to release my bags and brace myself before Rex flies into my arms.I drop to my knees, laughing and crying as I wrap him in a hug and cover his face with kisses.
A shadow falls over us.For one blissful moment, I allow myself to hope it’s Nathan, and yet I’m not at all disappointed when I look up into Liam’s familiar brown eyes.
“What are you doing here?”I ask.“I told Mum not to let anyone come for me.”
“Just like I bet you told her not to make a fuss when you get home, but you know she’s cooking up a storm right now,” Liam says.
I push to my feet, keeping hold of Rex with one arm as I loop the other around Liam.“Thank you.”
“Of course.”He brushes a kiss on my temple and then releases me to take charge of my bags.
Rex grips my hand, swinging our arms back and forth, and humming a jaunty tune as we make our way to the exit.Liam and I meet each other’s eyes and exchange a smile.What a change from that day two months ago.
“Auntie Fi, did you bring me any snacks?”Rex asks.
