That pulled Travis up short. “Wow. Sounds serious. Who is she?”
“Her name’s Orla. She’s Irish. She’s actually one of the physical therapists on the tour, been rehabbing my leg for the last few months.”
My brother grinned, that teasing glint back in his eye. “Sounds like she’s rehabbing more than just your leg.”
Eve swatted his arm. “Tyler, she sounds lovely. Clever, too. I’m pleased for you.”
Travis’s grin faded into something warmer. The big-brother version of him he saved for rare occasions. “Honestly, I’m glad, Ty. You deserve someone solid.”
I found myself smiling, couldn’t help it. “Yeah. I owe a lot to her. She’s…different. I feel different.”
Eve leaned her chin into her palm, studying me like I’d grown a second head. “God, you’re actually glowing. This is disgusting. I love it.”
Trav nodded slowly, his gaze leveling with mine. “In all seriousness, bro, you seem in a good place. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like this.”
He wasn’t wrong, I was in a good place—or I had been. I’d never felt sharper or more locked in, but landing in New York without her had kind of hollowed me out. I was missing her like crazy and I couldn’t wait until she came back and I could function again.
We moved on to talking about the city, Travis’s latest deal, Eve’s charity event next week, the usual gossip about old friends from back home. Halfway through the main course, I found myself telling them about Orla flying back to Ireland for her dad, how I’d driven her to the airport at two a.m. and had to watch her walk away.Travis’s expression shifted, the teasing completely gone, replaced by a look that said he finally saw how far I’d fallen. Eve smiled like she’d known it long before I did.
After dinner we made our way up to the street. It was dark now, but the late August heat still clung to the air, sticky on the back of my neck.
Travis hailed a yellow cab. “Was good to see you, bro. Maybe bring Orla to meet us soon?” he said as he climbed in.
“Yeah, she’d love to meet you,” I replied, nodding.
Just before Eve slid in after him, she cupped my face with perfectly manicured hands, like she wanted to knock some sense into me. “Try not to fuck it up, Tyler. I’d actually like to meet this one.”
I laughed, despite something pulling deep in my heart. “I promise, Eve. You’ll get to meet her real soon.”
“Don’t talk yourself out of it because you think you’re your father’s son.” Her voice dropped an octave. “You’re not. You’ve been proving that for years.” Eve had a way of threatening you with kind words. I knew if I fucked this up she’d be the first one to ride my ass about it.
“And for the record,” she added, tapping my cheek. “If you let this one slip, I’m personally staging an intervention.”
She smiled and turned ready to duck into the cab. I caught a flicker movement at the edge of my vision, a flash of light in the shadows across the street. Probably some pap taking a photo. ?
Eve paused just long enough to glance over her shoulder, her brow creasing. “They’re watching you again,” she murmured. “Be careful.”
I was too tired to care.
I lifted a hand in goodbye and then turned back to the curb to flag down my own cab. I checked my phone. Too late over in Ireland to call Orla. A good night text would have to do.
One more day.
Chapter 40
Orla
West Cork, Ireland
6:15 a.m.
I flippedthe kettle on just as the early morning light filtered through the lace curtains in Dad’s old kitchen. It still looked the same as when I moved out almost twelve years ago: dated, but comforting. The old wooden clock that had belonged to my grandmother still ticked steadily on the wall, as if no time had passed at all, but the worn, peeling vinyl on the countertop, the one Dad had tried to replace himself when we were teenagers, told a different story. Danny and I had stayed a few days after Dad was discharged, but I was heading to New York in a few hours, and Danny was heading back to London tomorrow.
If I was honest, my head was already across the Atlantic. I missed Tyler with an ache I could feel in my bones. We’d survived on constant texts and stolen calls, but the time difference was a slow torture. I just wanted to be back in his space, breathing in that familiar, warm scent of him.
“That kettle offend you?” Danny said, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Sorry…was a million miles away.”
