20. Aisling
TWENTY
Aisling
PAST
I am literally bouncing in my seat.
“You do know we’re going to the Cliffs of Moher today, too, right?”
“Yep, you told me.”
My mother sits next to me, just staring. “But you’re more excited about this?”
I glance over and smile. She looks adorable today in a fitted pair of yoga pants, hiking boots, and a Patagonia jacket. “Um, yes. Have you met me?”
“Well, hell, if I had known it would get you this excited, I would have mentioned this particular excursion in my ploy to get you here months ago,” my mom says with a light chuckle.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I tell her. “I kind of like not knowing exactly where we’re headed or what we’re doing. It’s like unwrapping a present every day. The surprise is half the fun.”
“That’s not what you said before we left,” she huffs. “I believe you said something like, ‘As long as I’m anywhere but here, I don’t care what we’re doing, Mom.’”
Yeah, that sounds like me.
“Don’t make me say it.” She looks at me with her brows raised, an expectant look on her face. She’s going to make me say it. “Okay, fine.” I let out an exhausted sigh. “You were right. Getting away was exactly what I needed, and I feel a hundred times better. Are you happy now?”
A warm smile spreads across her face. “I’m just glad to have you back.”
A stray comment from someone behind me draws my attention to the window and the view beyond. The bus navigates the tiny, winding roads with a surprising ease that feels almost impossible given our size. Collin, our bus driver, appears completely unfazed, singing to himself as classic Irish music plays in the background.
I’ll never complain about Chicago traffic again.
This morning, we stopped by the road to explore the rocky landscape of Burren National Park. I stood on a flat stone at the top of a hill, and when I looked down, the view seemed nearly endless. Just stretches of gray and green for miles. I jumped from one rock to another, wondering what ancient civilizations thought of places like this.
Now, we are headed to Kilcorney in County Clare, and I can’t help but feel like a five-year-old heading to Disney World for the first time.
“Finn, how much longer?” I ask for the millionth time. Mom and I are in the hot seats today, and while I’m enjoying the unobstructed views that the front seats provide, I’m enjoying the close proximity to Finn even more.
He turns in his seat across the aisle and grins. “Nearly there.”
“You said that last time.” Now, I sound like a five-year-old.
He presses his lips together, stifling a laugh. “While this is usually one of our more popular excursions, I honestly thought you’d lean toward some of the more historic experiences considering?—”
“They have dogs, Finn! Dogs!” He finally lets out that laugh. My mom joins in. “Please tell me we get to pet them?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I swear he’s getting off on withholding the information from me. Finally, he nods. “Yes, after the presentation, he typically brings them out to say hello.”
I let out a loud whoop of excitement. “This is the best day of my life.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t know you were such a dog lover.”
“Why?” I scoff. “What do you have against dogs, Finn? Are you a cat person?” I feign disgust, dramatically placing a rigid hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, Mom. The wedding is off.” The irony isn’t lost on me that today was supposed to be my actual wedding day.
My mom rolls her eyes, yet I can’t help but notice the faint smile tugging at her lips as she points to her earbuds and pretends she can’t hear us due to her audiobook.
“I love dogs. I’ve never had one, but I like them.”
My brows lift. “You never had a dog as a kid?”
He shakes his head, leaning back against the stiff bus seat. With his long legs stretched out in front of him and broad shoulders jutting into the aisle, he looks like a damn giant. “My parents weren’t really into pets.” He doesn’t elaborate, but I can’t help but notice a shadow of something lingering in his gaze. Pain? Regret? Whatever it is, it vanishes in an instant, and his happy, carefree smile is back seconds later. “What about you?”
I resist the urge to push him on the subject, but I hope he will eventually feel comfortable opening up about his family with me. However, right now, on a bus full of people, isn’t the right time. “Yes, well—after my dad—” I pause, meeting his gaze. “You know.” I shrug, and he nods, understanding my meaning. “Just one, though. A pit bull named Princess that we rescued from a shelter.”
“You named a pit bull Princess?”
“I was eight! And excuse me.” I tilt my head to the side. “Why can’t a pit bull be a princess?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, really. I’ve never actually seen one in real life. They’re restricted here, I believe.”
I click my tongue. “Really? That’s unfortunate. They’re a misunderstood breed. Princess was incredibly sweet and gentle.”
“Why didn’t you get a dog after you left home?” he asks.
“Oh, well—” I try to think of a reason, but then I realize I don’t have to make excuses for him anymore. “Theo doesn’t like dogs. Hates them actually—the hair, the responsibility, and the attention they steal away from him.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but he notices my eyes go wide as I point past his shoulder. “Oh my god, I think we’re here.”
He shifts in his seat as we pass a large sign, and sure enough, the bus starts to turn off the road.
“Do you think he’d notice if I smuggled one of the dogs onto the bus?”
“If you mean one of the best sheepdog trainers in Ireland, yes, I think he’d notice you trying to steal one of his dogs.”
“Damn it.”
“They have a gift shop, though. You might get a sheepdog plushie as a consolation prize.”
I shrug. “I guess that’ll do.”
* * *
“Oh my god, I want one.”
“No.”
“Do you think if I asked really nicely?”
My mom lets out a weary sigh. “No.”
“Mom.” I feign a whine as I watch the border collies dart across the field, forming a perfect circle. “You’re literally ruining the best day of my life here.”
“Or preventing you from being arrested and thrown in an Irish jail for theft?”
“Whatever.”
These dogs are amazing.
I watch the whole demonstration with my mouth wide open, holding my phone in front of me to record the whole thing because, hello, dogs? They dash back and forth, perfectly in sync, wagging their tails as if they were made for this.
I’ve seen dogs performing on TV, but usually, they respond to verbal commands. These border collies, however, are trained using a whistle. It’s crazy. Each combination and pitch of sound represents a different command, and they all follow it with military precision.
When it’s finished, I’m not proud to admit it, but I seriously consider pushing past all the old people in front of me to reach the dogs first.
Is it mean?
Yes, but I already mentioned that I wasn’t proud of it.
Princess passed away while I was in college. My mom told me she didn’t want to adopt another dog because of her travel schedule, but I think that after Saul, she just couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else.
It’s been so long since I last petted a dog that I nearly sigh in bliss when I finally approach the black-and-white collie. I kneel down to pet his head and ears. He leans into the touch, as if he’s being rewarded for a job well done. His name is Archer, and according to his owner, he’s the oldest dog here and will be retiring soon. You can see gray hairs around his nose and mouth, and after a moment, he settles onto the ground and rolls over.
I do the same (minus the rolling-over part) and sit in front of him with my legs crossed. Other people from our bus tour come and go, but I stay, stroking his long fur as he drifts off to sleep.
Dogs.
Just another thing I gave up for Theo. I’m not sure I even realized it until Finn mentioned it. How many other things were there? How many accommodations and adjustments had I made in my life and personality to fit his?
I glance at the gold resting on my right hand while gently running my fingers through Archer’s fur. My life has been so intricately woven with his. I’m not sure I know how to just be me anymore.
“Should I be jealous?” I look up to see Finn towering over me. From this angle, he appears fifteen feet tall.
“That depends.” I grin, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. “Do you enjoy belly rubs and having your ears stroked—” He cocks his head to the side, and I suddenly realize what I’ve just said. My cheeks flush in response. “Never mind. Are we leaving?”
“Just about,” he says, trying hard not to laugh. “Thought I’d come to collect you so you would have time to stop by the gift shop. You know—so you have your very own collie to take home and… stroke .”
I roll my eyes. “Oh my god.”
He chuckles and extends a hand to help me stand. I grab it, and either he underestimates my weight or the timing is off, but when he tugs, I go flying and slam right into him.
My hand comes out instinctively and lands on his chest, and holy hell…someone’s been eating their Wheaties. It feels like touching a fleshy brick wall. He is solid everywhere.
Don’t grope him.
Remove your hand, Ash.
Do not manhandle the tour guide.
I step back reluctantly, but as my eyes turn upward, I find him staring at me with a burning intensity that makes my heart—and perhaps other parts of me—flutter. His hands curl at his sides as if he’s waging an internal war, and then he lets out a breath. “Right, gift shop.”
He pivots on his heels, and before I can blink, I’m facing his back as he walks ahead of me.
I give Archer one last look. “Bye, friend.” And then I run to catch up with Finn, reminding myself that he is also supposed to be my friend.
And then I look at his ass.
Dammit.