Chapter Eighteen
Juniper
Aidan rattles off a drink order to the woman behind the bar and turns to me. “And what else?”
“Ginger ale, please.” The promise of a bubbly, spicy soda calms my belly. After hurling the contents of my stomach into a bush, I feel better, but not enough to tempt the fate of my insides with any kind of alcohol.
And Aidan, of all the people from our group, held my hair back while I puked. Maybe I should thank my guts for turning me into the most unattractive human being in the world. Aidan can run off with Naomi or whoever he wants, because after getting sick in front of him, there’s no way he’d want anything more intimate than what we’ve already shared. Aidan’s probably the nicest, most well-intentioned man I’ve ever kissed.
He deserves better, plain and simple.
And yet, memories of his breath in my hair and his hands over mine muddle my brain. I keep having very stupid, very sexy thoughts about him. Like how, even in the equivalent of a worker’s onesie, he is the hottest guy here. He’s rolled up the sleeves, and the sight of his forearms alone is some twisted form of foreplay.
“What’s everyone going to sing?” I ask, flipping through a notebook.
“ABBA,” Cara replies without hesitation. She flips through the enormous songbook, which is so thick it could double as a lethal weapon, while Elisa and Thom peer over her shoulder. “Or Queen.”
“Whitney Houston,” Thom declares and races to scribble down his choice on the request paper. “The only appropriate answer.”
The ginger ale makes me a new woman, and I find exactly the song that a night like this calls for. Meanwhile, a despondent man leans on a stool while belting out “Someone Like You” by Adele. His key is off, but the emotion plays across his face so viscerally that he appears close to tears. Onlookers, bathed in the bar’s blue- and purple-tinted lights, sing along with abandon.
“Aidan.” Naomi’s voice has dropped a few octaves. “We should do a duet. ‘Love Shack’?”
My ears perk up for his response. I don’t have any reason to get jealous over how handsy Naomi is with him—besides, Aidan can sing a song with whoever he wants—but dread swirls inside me at the thought of him with someone else. Anyone else. I wish I could do our kiss at the castle over.
If she and I weren’t related, you wouldn’t care?
Suppose not. You wouldn’t be here, though, would you?
Those words caused all my insecurities and concerns over the DNA test to bubble to the surface. I closed myself off to him, even though that’s the last thing I want.
“Hate to break it to you.” Aidan situates himself on a stool, so uninterested in karaoke that he won’t acknowledge the notebooks’ existence. “I’m no singer.”
“Karaoke’s not about talent,” I say, inserting myself into their conversation.
“Exactly.” Naomi pats him on his muscular thigh. “You need passion .”
“And some alcohol, depending on how well you sing,” Thom adds, lifting his wine glass up to the sky.
Our karaoke crew does not disappoint. Elisa and Thom win the crowd over with a gender-swapped duet from Grease , Marta defies her injury and dry-humps the stage in the raunchiest rendition of “Super Freak” possible, and Naomi settles on a drunk young stranger to join her for “Love Shack.” And while Ingrid has kept her lips zipped tight for most of the evening, she makes us all look like amateurs while she belts out Sia’s “Chandelier” to perfection.
After Cara finishes “Dancing Queen,” the host calls up “The Future Mrs. and Company.” I squeal and jump off my stool, spilling the last dregs of my ginger ale. While I am not made for climbing trees fifty feet in the air, I know how to do a night out right. “That’s us!”
“Us?” Aidan’s eyes bulge in surprise.
“A group song?” Cara looks like she might implode from booze and happiness. “Brilliant.”
“Come on.” I grab Aidan by the arm as everyone else heads toward the stage.
“You’re really going to make me sing, aren’t you?”
“I won’t force you. But you are technically the ‘and Company’ part.”
He digs his heels in and pulls me closer to whisper-yell over the crowd through his panic. “Getting up in front of people to tell a story from my childhood is one thing, but karaoke is another. I am terrible .”
“Mouth the lyrics and let Ingrid do all the work.” I shrug, backing away from him and toward the rest of our group. “Your call.”
By this point, not only are Cara and everyone on stage beckoning him forward, but the entire bar has broken out into a chant of Sing! Sing! Sing! If he decides not to join us, the crowd might boo him out of the place.
He suppresses a smile and holds up his hands in defeat. “Anything for the bride.”
Aidan follows me to one of the mics as everyone claps—and once we start, nothing could have prepared this tiny bar in Cork for the force that is all of us performing Spice Girls. It only takes a few notes into the intro before Aidan sings along, and by the second verse, he must realize that nobody will hear his singing voice, anyway. The entire bar joins the refrain for “Wannabe,” belting out lyrics about lovers and friends.
Even without a single ounce of alcohol in my body, this has to be one of the most fun nights out I’ve ever had in my life. I forget about DNA tests and assignments at The Edge and all the complications that led me to Ireland. Instead, I enjoy being here, surrounded by people who are all here for the same person.
Cara dances around the stage, giving wet, sloppy kisses on the cheek to all of us, as the song concludes to boisterous applause. She’s blissfully happy, and some corner of my mind wants to believe that’s in part because of me.
“Thank you,” she yells as she leans toward me. “This is honestly—”
She loses her balance and lands butt-first on the ground, which only makes her tip over with glee and giggles. She stands up and gives a bow to more thunderous claps before we exit the stage.
“Many thanks to that impressive group of off-duty mechanics,” the karaoke DJ says. “If any of you need a tire change, just look for the uniforms. Now, next up…”
“Thissiz the most incredible night,” Cara slurs. “Seersly, I love you all. So. Much.”
Elisa tears up, so Cara dives in for a hug. She then pulls Naomi and Ingrid in while wailing over how pretty they are.
“Will she be okay?” I whisper to Aidan as someone sings about two lonely people living in a lonely world. Another patron walks by me on the way to the bar, and I scoot closer to Aidan, keeping my eyes on the stage and not on the long veins and solid muscles of his arms.
“I’ve seen her worse than this. She’s a happy drunk. When some folks get plastered, they get angry or sloppy, but she’ll just go ’round telling everyone how much she cares about them. It’s like her, times a thousand.”
“D’ye mind if I come back to yours, Danny?” she asks as she drapes her arm over his shoulders.
“’Course not.”
I don’t sense an ounce of reluctance on his end, although he peers at me for a millisecond. To hide any disappointment, I temper my expression. Not having the temptation is a relief, after all. I stow away thoughts of his fresh, cedary scent, the roughness of the scruff on his chin, and the Y-shaped scar on his left hand from my mind.
When we arrive back at Aidan’s, Cara prances right inside like she’s walking on clouds. I take some cash from my wallet to give our driver an extra-generous tip and head in to find Cara already curled up on the couch and snoring.
“G’night, you angelic wee angels, you,” Cara murmurs as Aidan tucks her into his bed.
I place a full cup of water on the nightstand and float back into the hall, not without first looking around Aidan’s room. He has a display of framed landscape images on one wall, all in black and white, and a plush velvet armchair in the corner. There’s no trace of clothing peeking out from the closet, but some boxes spill out from underneath the bed. Boxes like he hasn’t entirely unpacked, like he’s halfway ready to go if given the opportunity.
We tiptoe into the living room, which is lit by a couple of dim floor lamps. I don’t want to intrude on Aidan’s space, seeing as he’s the one who has the pleasure of sleeping on the couch, but I can’t bring myself to turn in just yet.
“So…” He pauses by the kitchen island. “Safe to say you haven’t found your new favorite hobby tonight?”
A loud laugh escapes me, and I muffle the sound with my hand.
“Don’t worry,” Aidan says. “She’s out for the night.”
“At least you spared me from the humiliation of Roddy saving me like some damsel in distress.”
“Thom didn’t seem to mind.”
“True. You planned a killer party, minus the heights thing. Cara had a blast, and that’s what matters.”
“Thanks.” Those gorgeous eyes remain locked on me. “Want a drink? We can talk about your speech. Or…if you don’t—”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
I grab my computer off my bed while he prepares some tea. Back in the living room, the kettle simmers in the background. Once I’m sitting on the sofa and have the document open, Aidan stands behind me. A flush of embarrassment courses through me while I review the notes I have so far.
“It’s a work in progress,” I say as I tilt the screen his way. After ten seconds, he gives up on reading over my shoulder and sits down next to me, our thighs touching and his arm on the back of the couch.
“Hm.” He leans into the cushions. “It’s good. Just…”
“You hate it.”
“No,” he says, chuckling. “The whole thing’s very formal. There’s nothing wrong with that, but—here, look at mine.”
He slips his phone out of one of the many cargo pockets on his jumpsuit. I scan the note he’s typed up, laughing at the sweet playground memories he’ll share to open the speech. His words turn more vulnerable and heartfelt as he talks about meeting Yasmine for the first time and seeing his best friend find an equal partner.
“You have an unfair advantage with all this shared history.” I hold the phone back out to him.
“Just speak from the heart. Doesn’t need to be long. You’re her sister.”
“Half sister.” That reminder chips away at some of my joy from the evening. I can’t forget that I’m still in DNA limbo, even though life keeps happening, and this wedding date keeps approaching. “And not like half sisters who grew up together. New half sisters. How quickly can you really know someone?”
“Time can help form strong bonds between two people, but that’s not the only thing. Sometimes you meet someone and you just…you’re sure of it.”
I stare at the half-written speech in front of me and hope that Aidan is right.
“With siblings especially, that’s an unbreakable connection you have to another person, forever and ever,” he continues. “Michael and I weren’t the closest, him being six years older than me and all. We fought. I annoyed him to no end. But through all that, and even now that he’s gone, I’m still his brother.”
I close my laptop and twist my body to Aidan. He’s mentioned his brother a few times before, but I don’t have the full story. “What happened to him?”
Aidan leans further into the couch like the cushions could protect him. “Car accident. He got behind the wheel after drinking with some of his mates.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Aidan pauses and clears the thickness in his throat. “He’s my brother. And if he were still alive and I were writing some best man speech for him, then I’d have as hard a time as you are now. You can be with someone for a few days, and those few days can be everything, or you can grow up with a person and witness their whole life and never really know them.”
“You feel like you didn’t know your brother?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He sighs and strokes some of the scruff on his jawline. “I suppose I looked up to him quite a bit, being the younger brother. And dealing with the aftermath of…all of it, I guess, I see him more as a real person. Flawed. This sounds awful, but sometimes I have this intense anger at what he did. He knew better. He had to. We run a pub, and he’d seen how alcohol could ruin people’s lives. He didn’t think to call me or get a ride with someone else. I love him, and I miss him, but I’m so fumin’ at him for what he did.” He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I sound fucked up, don’t I? Angry at a dead man.”
My heart aches at how he beats himself up. I can’t relate entirely to his situation, but I’ve had enough therapy to recognize that what he’s going through is complicated.
“Sometimes I think I’m kind of glad I didn’t know my mom.” I sigh and play with the flap of my leg pocket as my confession comes out. “I never had the chance to really find out who she was as a person. But because of that, I didn’t have to see her in the throes of her addiction. I never saw her suffering. And I don’t have to know what I lost either. Somehow that’s a relief.”
My voice has gotten thin, but admitting the ugly truth is liberating. It’s like an invisible barrier has come down between us. Almost everyone expects my grief surrounding my mother to be one-dimensional, but the reality of losing someone entails so much more than sadness. I can’t be honest about that with many people, but I bet Aidan will understand.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I go on, “but that’s how I feel. Same with you and your brother. So no, you don’t sound fucked up at all.”
Aidan offers a grateful smile. “Thanks.” He clears his throat again and changes the heavy subject to something easier to swallow. “Cara tells me you’ve time after the wedding. You should drive out to the coast.”
“There’s a minor detail that you’re forgetting,” I say. “I don’t have a car. Or a driver’s license.”
“I’d take you. Drive you to see more of the countryside.”
A road trip alone with Aidan is everything I need to avoid and everything I desire.
“As tempting as that may be, I don’t know if I should go gallivanting around the country with a handsome Irishman.”
“I’m handsome?”
I pause. “Very.”
We both get impossibly still as we sit too close to each other on this couch.
“June, I’m a bit confused.” He scooches away from me, and I despise the space between us. “We kissed, and then I thought you hated me. Now you’re flirting with me.”
I can see why he’d be confused—I’m confused too—but he’s technically the one who put a stop to our kiss before. “You told me you weren’t sure how Cara felt about things, and you’re right. It probably would be, like, super weird for her.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
My head jerks toward him. “You told her?” They’re friends, and he has every right to talk to her about me, but I wish he’d given me a heads-up.
“No. But Cara knows me well. I didn’t have to say anything.”
“Ah.” Some of the tightness in my back dissipates. “What did you not say, exactly?”
He taps his knuckle against the arm of the sofa. “That I like you.” It’s the most innocent confession, but still, my chest goes all fuzzy. “But what about you? I can’t tell if you like me or not, or if you just like the thought of me, or what.”
“I do like you,” I confess. This isn’t some fleeting attraction to some guy I’ll forget in the morning. Aidan is a fire, and I stand close enough to get burned. “How could I not?”
“I sense a but somewhere after that.”
I pull my knees into my chest and curl into the corner of the couch for protection as I decide what to say.
But I might not be who you think I am.
But I might be.
But I don’t know what to do with all these feelings I have for you.
“But I’m a mess,” I manage.
“So’m I, in case you haven’t noticed. My brother, my parents, school, the pub—everything.” He laughs to himself. “I’m a wreck.”
He chuckles again, and I can’t help but smile.
“Yeah,” I say. “You kind of are.”
“We’re complete disasters.”
“You’re right.” My giggles grow, and soon, we’re both cracking up, snickering and shushing the other person so we don’t wake Cara. After some shared laughter, the energy in the room fizzles, and the only sound left is that of the kettle heating. Aidan smiles, catching my gaze from the corner of his eyes.
“I like you,” he says in a voice so gentle and yet powerful enough to make my heart splinter. “A lot.” Aidan looks at me like no man has looked at me before. I’m bare but safe, and maybe all the moments of my life were leading up to now. All the reasons to keep my distance dissolve into white noise, and all I know is that he’s wonderful and unfairly charming, and I really, really want to kiss him again.
I shouldn’t. But when his gaze flashes down to my mouth, we gravitate toward each other like two magnets.
Our lips lock, and this is a billion times better than I remember, because this time, I’m not holding back. I drink him in. My hands can’t decide on where to roam, because I want to touch every perfect part of him at once. I settle on one draped around his neck and the other gripped around his biceps. He pulls me closer, and I hook a leg over his lap so I’m straddling him.
He smells spicy and warm and like he’s been waiting for me his whole life.
“Is this a bad idea?” he murmurs into my mouth.
“Terrible.”
“You’re right.”
“It’s awful,” I pant.
“Brilliant.”
Before, our kiss was slow and careful. This? This is unknown territory. Our tongues explore each kiss with fervor, and oh my god, is he an even better kisser than I thought. He puts his mouth on mine like I’m the only thing in this world that matters. Thoughts escape me as I take in every part of his body. His stiff erection presses against my groin, and the pressure heats me up from the inside. I pat around on his back to find some kind of way to lift his shirt, because I need my palms against his skin, but we’re both wearing jumpsuits. My exploration is redirected to his front, to his chest, which— wow— and I undo the top button.
The kettle chooses the worst time possible to whistle. Aidan lifts me off and races to the stove, but the noise has tugged Cara from her sleep. She enters the room with sleepy eyes and yawns.
“Oh, Dan, I’d love some tea.”
I wipe my mouth and pull out my phone as a distraction.
“I’ll bring it to you,” he tells her, pouring hot water into the cups.
“Amaaaazing,” she sings as she pads back into the bedroom.
“Here.” He carries two teacups over, and I stand, taking one from him. His lips are swollen from making out, and his cheeks flushed, same as mine. “I should go play nurse and make sure she’s okay.”
Breathless and wordless, I nod. What the hell am I doing? How am I going to say no to him? The simple answer is: I can’t. Logic means nothing anymore, and my head officially can’t get through to my heart.
“I hope you sleep well, June.” Then he brings his lips to my ear, warming them with an invitation. “And think more on taking that road trip with me, will you?”