20. Aoife
Aoife
I toss another pair of heels into my suitcase, the faint thud barely audible over the sound of my thoughts.
I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind keeps circling back to my argument with Ruairi.
The tightness in my chest hasn’t eased since last night, making every item I pack feel like a small rebellion.
The door creaks open, and I glance up to see Bridget, concern etched on her face. “You’re packing?”
I nod, folding a dress and placing it neatly on top of the other items. “I need a change of scenery.”
Her frown deepens as she steps into the room. “You can’t just take off every time you and Ruairi fight. You’re home now.”
I sigh, turning to face her. “I’m not running away.”
She glances at the half-packed suitcase. “Where are you going?”
“Dublin,” I say, zipping the suitcase closed. “Erin, my flatmate from college, is turning twenty-six. She’s throwing a big party, and I promised I’d go.”
Bridget relaxes slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Good. I was worried you were planning to disappear again. Ruairi wouldn’t handle that well.”
I let out a short laugh. “Oh, please. He’d probably be glad if I disappeared and stayed out of his hair. Less for him to micromanage.”
“You think so? You’re his favorite person to boss around, you know.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Bridget exhales, leaning back on her hands. “You know he’s just trying to protect you, right? He’s worried about you. This isn’t some power play for him. It’s fear.”
“I know,” I say, pausing to meet her gaze. “But I’m not a child anymore. I’ve traveled the world and learned skills he doesn’t even know I have. I’ve prepared for this. I need him to see me for who I am now, not who I was when we were kids.”
Bridget’s brow furrows slightly, her tone softening. “I get it, Evie, I really do. Please don’t let this trip make things worse between you two. You leaving might feel like you’re walking away from him.”
“I’m not,” I insist, shaking my head. “I need some time, and so does he. Maybe if I give him some space, he’ll reconsider letting me have a role in the Syndicate.”
She watches me for a moment, then nods. “Alright. Just don’t push him too far, okay?”
I smile faintly. “I won’t. I promise.”
Bridget hesitates, then leans forward slightly. “Okay, enough about Ruairi. Is there something you're not telling me?”
I blink. “Like what?”
Her eyes narrow just enough to be playful. “Have you met anyone interesting lately?”
I let out a small laugh, shrugging. “Not exactly?”
“Not exactly,” she repeats, arching a brow. “That sounds like there’s a story.”
“We met while I was in the Maldives,” I admit, fiddling with the edge of the duvet.
Bridget perks up instantly. “The Maldives? That already sounds romantic. Go on.”
“It wasn’t anything serious,” I say quickly. “It was just something fun without all the baggage and expectations.”
Bridget watches me carefully. “And what about the guy? What’s his story?”
I shrug. “All I know is his name’s Eamon. We didn’t exchange numbers or talk about our lives. No strings. No questions,” I murmur.
Her mouth drops open slightly. “You’re telling me you spent how long with this man, and you don’t know his last name or where he’s from?”
I laugh lightly, the sound hollow. “Yeah, well, we weren’t exactly sitting around swapping life stories. It was fun while it lasted, and now it’s in the past.”
“Except you didn’t leave it behind,” she says softly.
The statement lands harder than I expect, and for a moment, I don’t have an answer.
“No,” I whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about him. I don’t even know why. It’s not like we had some grand romance. It was just…” I trail off, searching for the right words.
“Special?” Bridget offers.
“Yeah,” I admit. “And now it feels like unfinished business.”
She gives me a pointed look. “If it’s unfinished business, maybe you should find him. You know your brother has connections,” she says with a knowing smile. “Tell him about this guy and see what he can dig up.”
“Yeah, right. Ri would love me asking for his help to track down some guy I met while I was traveling. He’d lose his mind,” I say and shake my head.
“I know my husband can be overbearing and stubborn, but if this Eamon really meant something to you, maybe you should try.”
“I’m not chasing after a guy I barely know. And this trip is about giving Ruairi space, not about Eamon.”
“Fair enough,” she says, standing.
“Besides, he’s probably forgotten about me already. I was a coward,” I confess. “I left him a note in the middle of the night. No real goodbye. No way for him to find me. Why would he even think about me now?”
Bridget tilts her head, her expression softening. “Because you’re unforgettable, Aoife. Whether you believe it or not.”
“You’re biased.”
“Perhaps,” she says with a slight shrug. “But I’m also right.”
She moves toward the door, but before she leaves, she glances back. “You deserve to be happy. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, convince you otherwise.”
Her words linger long after she’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the quiet echo of what might have been.