Chapter 12
Lo
“It’s a nice area.” I point my mom’s attention to the window and the willow trees lining the cemetery. “Very quiet neighbors, except for Lark.”
The joke doesn’t land. My mom purses her lips and surveys every inch of my living room.
She’s visited me twice since I moved here, but insisted that she wanted to see it again before I drop her off at the castle.
She examines the contents of my fridge, then surveys my coffee table, opens a decorative box and holds up a matchbook inside, printed with Hare’s Breath: Cold Pints, Good Craic .
“Cielo Valdez, are you smoking?”
I point to the jar next to it. “Mom, they’re for candles.”
She takes a sniff and pulls a disapproving face at the “Autumn Leaves” scent. “Burning paraffin releases carcinogens.” She marches to the kitchen and unceremoniously dumps the candle into the trash. “Aunt Sharon has been selling soy candles that smell marvelous. I’ll send you one.”
Indignation flashes through me. Keeping the peace is important for the wedding weekend to go well, but she’s literally throwing my belongings in the garbage.
“Mom.” Clenching my teeth, I cross the room and pull the candle out of the trash. I rinse it under the tap. Having a task to do somehow makes this interaction easier. “You don’t get to choose how I decorate my house.”
“I said I’ll send you a new one.”
“This isn’t about a candle. I can take care of myself. I exercise and take my supplements religiously. I eat well most of the time—”
“There’s a candy wrapper in your trash.”
I draw in a deep breath, willing my anger away.
For years, I’ve been following a guide set by an oncology dietician.
It’s true that Skittles and popcorn are my favorite cheats.
I indulge more when I’m stressed, but overall, I’m pretty disciplined.
Not that I need to explain the contents of my garbage.
“You’re my only child.” Exasperation colors her voice.
“But I’m not an actual child. Just trust me, okay? I have a vested interest in keeping myself alive.”
She huffs as if she’s the one aggrieved.
I snatch my short white coat from the hook along with the engraved stethoscope my dad sent when I was accepted to the University of Galway. “Ready to see the castle now? I have to get to the hospital by six.”
She plants a hand on her hip. “You’re working? Tonight? You’re not even going to visit with me?”
Guilt mixes with my still-simmering anger. She did come 4,500 miles.
“Every clinical hour is important. I’m already taking a three-day weekend.” Not to mention, I’d lose all my hair again if I spent too many days with her. “We’ll get to see each other, I promise.”
My mom is moody the whole ride there, feigning indifference as I point out landmarks along the way. I silently wonder if I’m a crappy host, dumping her at the accommodations right after picking her up. If I’m a crappy daughter for deciding to go to school in another country.
Castle Teachan’s medieval silhouette and ornamental trees come into view. I carry my mom’s suitcase to the door, where we’re met by a concierge. Before I picked up my mom at the airport, I’d delivered the guest baskets Aidan and I had assembled last night.
With a glance back at my idling car in the drop-off lane, I say, “I’m glad you’re here, Mom. See you tomorrow.”
The next afternoon, the contents of my suitcase are laid out on the hotel bed like a postmortem exam. I’ve brought anything and everything that makes me feel more prepared for the emotional gauntlet that is this weekend.
Castle Teachan has just as much romantic ambiance on the inside.
My room is anchored by a massive four-post bed and lined in tapestries, a decorative sword, and sconces that I’d swear were lit by real candles if I hadn’t just turned them on with a switch.
Touches of modern luxury balance out the traditional opulence.
My reflection peers back at me from an ornate mirror.
I got less than three hours of sleep after returning home from my twelve-hour shift at six-thirty this morning.
Between a double espresso, a caffeine-infused eye mask, a metric ton of concealer, and a chic linen jumpsuit… I actually look good. It’s a miracle.
The way Aidan stared at me when we were assembling the gift bags still ricochets through my brain. His melodic voice, daring me to go on.
I want him to look at me like that again. I want to tempt him.
I want…
There’s a cheerful rap at my door; it’s Lark and Callum.
“Hope you’re hungry. The lunch buffet is starting,” she chirps.
I step out, practically running straight into Aidan as he emerges from the room next door. The idea of him sleeping so close, just beyond a wall, makes my chest feel like it’s filled with lead.
“Hey,” he says casually.
Dressed in a simple white shirt and dark pants that somehow look absurdly expensive, Aidan’s distractingly hot—but I still have a hard time shaking the fact that this isn’t my Aidan.
“Hey. Nice place. My bed is huge,” I say. His mouth pops open. He probably thinks I’m trying to make a pass at him. “I mean, it’s large. Good for bouncing.”
“Bouncing?” Aidan repeats.
Lark delightedly elbows Callum. There is no way the side-by-side placement of our rooms is a coincidence.
“Jumping! Jumping on the bed,” I correct. What am I saying?
This meeting has already gone off the rails; I’ve got to regain control. I turn to Lark. “Can you give us a second?”
Lark smiles knowingly. “Meet you downstairs.”
There’s an openness to Aidan’s expression, and I feel even worse now for what I’m about to say.
“Hey, before I forget: I just wanted to ask that you not mention…us…to my mom when you meet her. Please.”
Hurt flashes across his face.
I’d wanted to tell her about him a dozen times, but every time I started to work up the nerve, she’d remind me of just how neurotic she could be.
His parents are so easygoing, he just doesn’t understand that there is no way to impress my mom.
I’d simply wanted to keep him to myself for a little longer. Then it all ended anyway.
“You know how she is,” I explain. “She only wants me with some cardiologist or a stock trader or a lawyer.”
Aidan raises a brow and I pause to process the irony of that last one.
“Shall I tell her we met while I was practicing law? Might win her over,” Aidan asks with an almost melancholy smile.
Here, you can sit for the entrance exam without a law degree.
Before we met, he’d studied on his own for months in between busking, trying to balance his musical dream with a practical job when his parents needed help.
I’d always admired his tenacity, his intelligence, his devotion to family.
“For my sanity’s sake, let’s just let her think we’re friends,” I plead. “I don’t want to get into my love life with my mom. There’s enough on my plate this weekend.”
“So, we’re friends now?”
My lips part, but I honestly don’t know how to reply. Could I learn to be friends with Aidan over the course of this weekend? Do I even want that?
“I won’t say anything to her,” he promises before I can answer. Layers of emotion shift across Aidan’s face. Hope and hurt and something else that I can’t quite identify.
My hand reaches out on its own accord, but before I touch his cheek, I pull my hand away and lift my index finger instead.
“One minute. I’ll meet everyone downstairs. I forgot something.”
I slip back into my room to compose myself. What about my comfort? My boundaries? I put them in place with good reason.
The mattress shifts under my weight as I plop down on the bed. Three days with my ex. I thought I was ready for it, but I’m far from over Aidan.