Chapter Twenty-Six
“I just think I’d be better suited to an Aquarius.”
I force down a sigh, my smile plastered to my face as one of the guests pleads her case. She’s my third one this morning and I am starting to take it personally.
“And one of the other girls said the matches were more like suggestions anyway and I—”
“What are you asking?” I interrupt, even though I already know what’s coming.
“Can I swap? My friend Amy already did, and she said it’s cool so long as—”
“No problem. Knock yourself out.”
She beams at me, delighted, and runs off to join her friends by the lake.
We couldn’t have wished for better weather.
It’s like we had the wettest spring since records began all so we could have the warmest summer.
The sun is beating down on the lake, showing off the pub in all its glory, and as predicted, a few people have waded into the water as a way to cool down and are taking pictures of each other.
It’s perfect. Or it would have been if more than half our guests had bothered to drag themselves out of bed.
“It could have been worse,” Nush says to me now like she’s reading my mind.
“How could it have been worse?”
“A hangover is not that bad,” she says. “There could have been food poisoning. Or a murder.”
“A mur— Nush!”
“No, like a fun one,” she insists. “Like in Clue.”
“Oh my God. Stop talking.”
And it’s not just one hangover judging by the line outside the pharmacy this morning. Nush fell over herself apologizing to me and is being extra attentive, but all that means is she’s been following me around for the last hour.
Then there’s Gemma and Adam who are as far away as two people can be while still being in the same space, with Adam doling out ice creams cones and Gemma staying firmly several picnic tables away, pretending not to notice him.
Something must have happened last night, but between making up with Callum and making sure all the drunk people got home, I’d missed whatever it was.
“Any word from Glenmill yet?”
I shake my head at Nush’s question, stomach tightening with that familiar worry. I’d been expecting something by now.
“Well. I’m going to do another loop with the petition,” Nush says decidedly.
“Don’t annoy people, okay? Especially if they’re hungover.”
“It hurts me when you doubt my charms,” she says, completely serious, and wanders off to get her clipboard.
I turn my focus to Gemma, who’s peering out at the water with an absent expression, her iced coffee untouched beside her. She’s so in her own head that it’s only when my shadow falls over her that she even notices my approach.
“Hey,” she says, peering up at me.
“Hi. Did you sleep with Adam?”
“ What ? Katie!”
“Well, I don’t know,” I say, as she huffs, drawing her dress down her legs like she’s all prim and proper all of a sudden. “It’s not like you don’t know the guy.”
“We had a nice night,” is all she says.
“And?” I prompt, flopping down next to her.
“And nothing. I’m just happy my boob tape stayed in place.” But even as she speaks, her eyes flit to Adam by the cart and promptly away again.
“Did you fight?”
“No.”
“And you didn’t sleep together and wake up regretting it?”
“No and stop talking so loud,” she hisses.
“Then why are you ignoring each other?” I ask.
“We’re not,” she says. “But Noah’s here.”
“So? He’s seen you speak with Adam before.”
“This is different.”
“No, it’s not! This isn’t the big thing you’re making it out to be. You know Adam. Noah knows Adam. It’s kind of the ideal situation, if you think about it.” I scowl when she doesn’t move, my frustration spilling over. “Fine. If you won’t talk to him, then I will.”
She latches onto my wrist so hard I yelp. “Don’t you dare,” she warns, but I just shake her off. “Katie? Katie .” Gemma scrambles to follow me as I stride up to the cart.
Adam glances up when I approach, looking confused before he spies Gemma behind me. Then he just looks awkward.
“No,” I say. “I’m telling you right now, that this can’t happen. You two either need to just kiss or—”
“Noah!” Adam says suddenly, and I shut my mouth. “It’s Noah! Hey, buddy!”
Gemma and I turn to indeed see a startled-looking Noah standing by the cart. And I can understand why. I don’t think Adam has ever said the word “buddy” in his life.
“What can I get you?”
“I just want some ice cream.”
“Sure thing,” he says in an enthusiastic, very not Adam voice. Gemma looks like she wants the earth to swallow her up, but she manages to smile at her son when he turns his questioning gaze toward her. “Here you go!”
It’s kind of creepy, actually. I decide I don’t like happy Adam.
Noah doesn’t either, judging by the long, wary look he gives him. “Thanks,” he says finally, and goes off with his cone.
Gemma shakes her head. “I promised Nush I’d help her with the petitions,” she says before either of us can say anything, and spins around, her dress fluttering around her knees as she strides off.
I turn back to Adam just in time to see him gazing after her. Men.
“What did you do to her?” I snap, and he startles.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why are you both acting like that?”
“It’s not me,” he says. “It’s her. I’m just following her lead.”
“What if she’s following your lead? How long have you been into her? Wait.” I hold up a hand as he opens his mouth. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
He grimaces, scratching the back of his neck as he glances over my shoulder, to where I know Gemma is. “Do you think it’s weird?”
“No,” I say truthfully. “If anything, it’s only weird how not weird it is.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does,” I say. “If you really think about it.”
“Look, I don’t know,” he says quietly, as another couple comes up looking for ice cream. “She’s barely said two words to me all day, and if she doesn’t want this, then I’m not going to pressure her.”
“But—”
“Drop it, Katie, yeah? Let’s just get through the weekend. What can I get for you?” He says the last bit to the people waiting and I step aside, smiling warmly at them even as I’m frowning on the inside. What’s the point of hosting a goddamn matchmaking festival if you can’t even matchmake?
I’m starting to make my way inside to check in on those hiding from the sun when I spot Noah sitting in the exact same place Gemma had been moments before, gazing out at the same lake with the exact same expression.
The genes in that family are strong .
“Hey.”
Noah glances over at me, eyebrows rising in greeting.
“Having the best time ever?” I ask, and he smirks, turning his attention back to the lake.
“It’s not so bad,” he says, as I take a seat beside him.
“Enjoying the ice cream?”
“It’s okay.”
I watch him watch the crowd, his gaze skating over the couples without really seeing them. “Your mam said your dad rang the other day,” I say carefully. “But that you didn’t want to speak with him.”
Noah doesn’t respond at first, he doesn’t even acknowledge the question, and I’m about to abandon ship and swiftly move on when he shrugs.
“My dad’s a dick.”
Oh boy. I hesitate, trying to think of what Gemma would want me to say in this situation.
Darren is a dick. We hate Darren. But we don’t want Noah to hate Darren, that’s what Gemma’s always maintained.
She’s never said a bad word about that man in front of him, and I’ve seen the lengths she goes to to protect Noah from the continuous disappointment that is his biological father.
“He’s not a dick,” I begin. “He’s just…” I trail off, as Noah finally turns his head to look at me, pinning me with such a bored, don’t-even-try-it stare that I immediately give up. “Yeah. He’s a dick.”
Noah nods and his attention returns to the water. “That’s why I didn’t want to talk with him. Plus, it’s worse when he tries.”
“What?”
“Sometimes, he’ll send me a card,” Noah says absently. “Or he’ll give me money. He got me a guitar last year.”
“He sent you a guitar?”
“Two months after my birthday.”
I frown, not remembering one in their house, but before I can ask more, he explains.
“Mam had to throw it out because it broke,” he tells me. And then, “I broke it.”
“On purpose?”
Another nod. “I said I dropped it by mistake, but I didn’t. Mam went to the shops, and I threw it down the stairs. Twice.”
“Noah…”
“He didn’t send it for me,” he says defensively.
“He never sends anything for me. He sent it to hurt her. Because he knows she doesn’t like it when he gets in touch with me.
Not really. And I don’t like it either. Because he lies.
He always lies. He says he’s coming to visit, but he never does.
He says he’ll bring me on holiday, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t give a shit.”
“Noah! Language!”
But he ignores me, his features settling into a familiar scowl. One his mother was wearing not ten minutes ago.
“Adam takes me places,” he says. “He takes me to the pool all the time. And the beach and the cinema. And when we go, he never acts like he doesn’t want to be there.
You’ve been to every one of my birthday parties and Frank goes to all my football games, even when it’s raining.
Bridget helped me finish painting my room when Mam had to go work and Nush taught me how to pick a lock. And—”
“What do you mean, Nush taught you how to pick a lock?”
“My dad’s a dick,” he finishes. “And I want everyone to stop treating me like I don’t know it. I’m not five. And just because we’re related doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
I can only stare at him, watching the red angry flush of his cheeks begin to fade as he glowers unseeing at the lake.
Alright, so maybe he’s a lot more observant than Gemma gives him credit for.
Than any of us give him credit for, and I’m just about to tell him so when a distant rumbling draws my attention to the main road.
It’s a sound I know all too well, and I give Noah’s worried look a reassuring wink and, keeping the smile plastered to my face, hurry around to the front of the pub.
The noise grows louder as soon as I do, and I soon see why as a procession of trucks and Jeeps go rumbling past, making enough noise to drown out any music or conversation down by the lake.
“Do you think they’re here to protest?” Nush asks quietly, her eyes narrowing on the shiny black Jeep parked across the road as she joins me out front.
“They’re not going to knock down the pub, Nush. There are people inside.”
“They might wait until we’re at the fireworks tonight.” I feel her looking at me. “We could always—”
“You’re not chaining yourself to the doors,” I interrupt.
“I was going to suggest sleeping overnight.”
“They can’t just knock it down. That’s all kinds of illegal.”
“Then what are they doing?” she asks, as another truck passes by.
“I don’t know. Intimidation?” And it’s working.
I hate to admit it, but it is. The last of the vehicles rumble past, leaving only the Jeep still loitering across the road and a dirty gray van bringing up the rear.
The van actually pulls up to the pub, though, and a bearded man in mud-stained overalls pops out with an almost sheepish expression.
“Can I help you?” I ask, instantly suspicious as he makes his way toward us.
“You the wishing well lady?”
I swear to God Nush gets into a fighting stance next to me. “Yes,” I say, giving her a look in case she plans to attack him with her clipboard.
“I’m working on the hotel right now, and my sister saw you guys on the news. She was wondering if I could take a picture of the well. For my nieces. They asked me to make a wish for them.”
I shut my mouth as soon as I realize it’s open. “Sure,” I say. “Yeah. Of course. It’s right through there.”
“Cool.” He lingers awkwardly. “And the festival is, uh…are you still selling tickets for that or is that a done deal now?”
“We’re all sold out.”
“You doing it next year?”
“If we’re still here,” I say slowly, but he doesn’t seem fazed by that.
“Great, yeah. Getting harder to meet people online these days, you know.”
“Sure,” I say, and he nods before following my wordless gesture around the pub.
“Is that a good sign?” Nush asks, as he goes off.
“I don’t know,” I say helplessly, but my attention goes back to the shiny Jeep.
There have been lots of new cars around the village lately, and, even though it’s too far away for me to see inside, I suddenly know in my heart exactly who this one belongs to, and so I lift my hand in a mocking wave, greeting Jack Doyle, until the engine starts again and he drives off, out of the village.