Chapter Nineteen
Aidan
I don’t need an alarm clock because someone walks in and slams my front door shut at—Christ, six in the morning?
“Nggh?” I blabber into my pillow as I crack one eye open.
“Did I wake you?” My best friend has many talents, but closing doors quietly is not one of them. I’ve little hope of returning to my slumber, but once I catch an intoxicating whiff of ham-and-cheese jambon pastries, I’m willing to forgive and forget.
“Why’re you up now? And how?”
“Body’s used to waking up at five,” she says, carving out a spot on the couch by my shins. “Oof, my head.”
“You have fun?”
“Best night of my life, just behind when Yaz proposed. The ropes course? Brilliant.”
“Karaoke.”
“Those outfits.” She pats me on the leg since I still have mine on.
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
“Thanks for letting me stay here. Hope I didn’t crash a wild after-party.” She waggles her brows at me.
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
Her breath catches. “You kissed?”
“Who’s asking?”
“Me,” she says, poking me in the ribs. “I’m asking.”
“Let me eat my pastries in peace.”
I grab one of the bite-sized pastries and glare at her, because there’s no way I can hide this from my best friend if I tried. Her face bursts into sunshine, and she lets out a hushed squeal, shaking me into the couch.
I would’ve loved to jump into bed with June and explore her body more—and let her hands work more of their magic—but my kettle acted as a savior in some ways. June’s still a guest in my home. If she wants to continue what we started last night, then we can, but I don’t want to pressure her.
“Hey,” June says from the hall.
“Shite, I woke you too,” Cara says.
June’s morning voice is subdued, but it could catch my attention from an ocean away. Even in a rumpled old T-shirt and sweatpants, she’s a vision. She stands partially obscured by the shadows in the hallway, like she hopes not to interrupt a private conversation. She gives me a bashful look, like last night’s emotional closeness was somehow more revealing than sex for her. I wish I could capture her in this moment with my camera.
She joins us in the living room, sitting down in the recliner at the end of the coffee table. I’ve never been able to play laid-back when it comes to love, so I pass her the platter of pastries and accidentally drop three. She eats while the bride-to-be gushes more about the hen do, and I relish every moment I notice June noticing me.
“I got us nail appointments for the afternoon, but before then, I was wondering if you’d help me assemble the welcome baskets. Putting those goodies together has taken me longer than I expected, but with you and Yaz, we should finish in no time.”
“No problem,” June says.
“All the supplies’re at your place?” I ask.
“Mhmm. But you, sir, have done more than your fair share for this wedding already.” Cara pops another jambon in her mouth and speaks through the flaky, cheesy goodness. “Consider today your day off. We’re due for some girl time.”
Cara’s day-of coordinator, Stevie, appeared talented and attentive on paper, but she made it clear that she doesn’t go on the clock until the day before the wedding. Aside from her occasional check-ins and advice via text, Cara and Yaz have been in charge until the sun came up this morning. Granting me a break from the madness just means time away from June. She already has so few days here, and if given the choice, I’d like to take all the time I can.
“What you could use,” I say, “is some help with the baskets.”
“What?” June asks through a jambon . “Afraid we’ll gossip about you?”
“Yes. That’s precisely what will happen.” Both of them talking about me—the thought puts a smirk on my face. “Insufferable, you two.”
Cara and June share a glance and giggle. Seeing them so in tune with each other opens something inside of me—like going through the house and finding a room that didn’t exist before. It’s new and different and nice, and it makes me want to fill that room with furniture, get comfortable, and stay awhile.
My best friend gets her way. The two of them depart after we’ve consumed every last pastry, and Cara texts me shortly afterward.
CARA: Enjoy some relaxation! Big weekend coming up, and I’ve a feeling you’ll need your energy!!!
This is followed by three lines full of winking emoji.
Restlessly, with nowhere in particular to go or anything to do until the rehearsal, I decide to pull the SD card from my camera, offload my work onto a hard drive, and jump into editing. June planted a seed of a decent idea. My days would look like this if I went freelance or started submitting my portfolio places. I’ve been set on restarting postgrad, but what if I just did the work that I loved to do? No more sitting around and waiting. And no more pub.
But I don’t know what that would mean for Mam and Da.
I sift through photos from the other evening and admire what I captured. June’s fresh footprints in the muddy field. June’s hand dragging along the weary stone. June marveling at the massive half-destroyed castle in front of her.
Shite. My heart’s in a freefall. The sensation terrifies me, and I love it.
The images represent some of my better work. I crop them, alter the white balance, and bump up the shadows to perfect the shots. At some point—minutes or hours later, I’ve hardly any concept of time when editing—my phone chirps again.
JUNE: Behold, the bridal baskets!
JUNE: Also these things are HEAVY. I am getting in a serious workout
A selfie of her smiling and holding a gargantuan gift basket fills my phone screen. A selfie. She hasn’t sent me any photos of herself before, and I simmer with satisfaction knowing that she’s thinking about me.
AIDAN: Looks gorgeous
AIDAN: The baskets are nice too
The second I hit send, I groan.
JUNE: Woooooow, that is perhaps the cheesiest text in the history of texting
AIDAN: Admittedly not my finest
AIDAN: Sure I can’t help out over there?
JUNE: You’re under strict orders not to enter the premises
AIDAN: Fine, I’ll keep working on these
I send her a picture I’m editing, and she replies with a string of colorful emoji.
JUNE: Omg this is soooo good
JUNE: You really should let me introduce you to some of my photog friends
I take in a fortifying breath. There’s no harm in a simple chat with them. My fingers hover over the screen before I type out a thumbs-up.
AIDAN: Sure, ty
JUNE: Of course
She sends me another photo of her, this time without a colossal wedding basket. The sight of her smiling coyly at the camera, only for me, makes me catch my breath.
AIDAN: I can’t wait to see you again
Thinking of her has made my pants impossibly tight, so I adjust myself and stare at my computer, willing myself to get more edits done. Not a chance. This erection won’t go away, especially if all I’m doing is looking through photos of the woman I’d like to pin down on my mattress.
I need a cold shower, or a release. Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes and let my hand drift south while my imagination drifts to what could’ve happened last night. June felt so good, so right, pressed up against me. My strokes are slight and tentative at first. I’ve spent so much of my time denying myself these thoughts of her. But my grip becomes firmer, and I speed up, remembering the way her breasts nestled against my chest and how her breath caught in her throat after I latched onto her hips and pulled her against my hardness. I haven’t wanted a woman—truly wanted someone—in such a long time, and I stroke with that yearning, burning a bonfire inside me. Oh, her mouth. What dirty words I’d love to hear pass through that perfect pair of lips as I get acquainted with every part of her, as I learn what makes her scream into the pillows, as I—
Groaning like a wild animal, I come before the rest of that blissful scenario can play out in my head.
I take the cold shower and remind myself to keep it together. June hasn’t given me an answer about the road trip I proposed, so last night might be all we’ll ever have. I need to be okay with that and get through the next few days while acting normal and not like a thirsty teenager.
Luckily, when I arrive at the wedding rehearsal, Stevie leaves no room for distraction. She knows her stuff and runs the event like a naval officer, so all my attention goes to where to stand, what to hold, and when to walk. None of it whatsoever goes to daydreaming about removing all of June’s clothing with my teeth.
“You.” Stevie points to Yasmine’s brother and best man, Joseph, who stands opposite me and across the aisle. “Two steps in. And you two. Move half a step and get closer.” She points to me and June. When we don’t close the gap to her satisfaction, Stevie grabs my shoulder and pushes me forward until June’s botanical perfume overtakes me again. I need that scent on me, on my bed, in my car, and on my every belonging. My cock presses up against my fly just being close to her.
Stevie marches around, and once she seems satisfied with her work, she circles one fist in the air. “Cue music!”
The string quartet picks up where they’d paused, and the brides appear at the entrance.
“You’re making it hard to focus,” I whisper behind June, to which she chortles. Stevie shoots us both a look of death.
“I could say the same about you,” June says once Stevie looks back at Cara and Yaz, who have chosen to walk down the aisle hand in hand. “I keep thinking about last night, and tonight, and what you and I might get up to after all the rehearsal stuff.”
“Yeah, no clue.” I grin, envisioning our mouths together again. “You’ll have to enlighten me.”
“Sure,” June says as she leans back, almost close enough for me to bury my face in her silky hair. “I’ve got some ideas.”
We file out of the coach, and a few groups of people chat while others disperse to call dibs on telescopes. My vision takes its time adjusting to the blackness, which grows gradually less intense. The brides already gave us a rundown of what to expect—grab a drink, follow the pathway with red lighting out to the guides with the telescopes, and don’t use your phone.
June nudges my arm with hers. “It’s official. We survived the dress rehearsal.”
“Stevie doesn’t mess around.”
“No joke,” June says and takes a sip of her wine. “Good company too. At least on my side of the altar.”
“Same.”
Some people head down the path, and June leans toward me, resting a hand on my upper arm. The move wouldn’t seem all that out of place in the daylight, but being shrouded in darkness makes it somehow more personal.
“Okay, I’m really going to need your help here,” she says. “Meeting a bunch of Cara’s family and friends in the pitch dark is more than a little intimidating.”
“How ’bout you tell me first if you and Cara talked about…well?”
“About what?”
“You know.”
She sniggers and brings her warmth closer. “You’re blackmailing me for information shared in confidence.”
“I’ve a right to know.”
“I told her we kissed. Nothing more.”
That takes me by surprise, because what we did wasn’t just kiss. A kiss and nothing more sounds innocent and forgettable.
June tugs on my arm to make me keep up with her pace. “I didn’t want to share every detail. I kept it classy. But she is beyond excited.”
“Sounds like her.”
Cara’s selfless. On a weekend that’s all about her, she still musters up joy for others.
“Now,” June says, “will you help a girl out?”
“Right. Who’ve you met so far?”
“Aside from Evvie and Roger—”
“And Granny.”
“Right, and Granny.” She shudders at the mere mention of Cara’s gran. “Everyone from the bachelorette. But there are so many other people here.”
“Well, those two back there singing by the liquor are Evvie’s sister, Auntie Nola, and her husband Connell. They know how to get the party going.” I turn from them to face a bickering older couple. “Cara’s granny is over there with her granda, doing what they do best. And over there,” I jut my chin out straight in front of us, “are Yasmine’s godparents, Lena and Antoni. They’re sweet.”
I rattle through a few more people I can identify by silhouette or sound alone, and then we mingle with godparents, cousins, more aunts and uncles, and other folks who I’ve known from growing up close to Cara.
We move as a unit down the pathway, and enough red light shines to illuminate her profile. She’s beautiful. We’re afforded more privacy in the dark, so I can enjoy our time without getting self-conscious. There’s no wondering who might see us walking so closely, or what they might think of us arm in arm. Cara knows something’s going on—and presumably she’s told Yaz—but I’d like to keep every nosy neighbor in Ballygrá out of our business.
As we approach one of the closer telescopes, I inform June that stargazing in the Kerry International Dark Sky Reserve is some of the best in the country. “Not a lot of light pollution,” I say, admiring the expanse that overflows with waves of glinting stars. “Look.”
“The sky here is bigger than any sky I’ve ever seen before, if that’s possible.” Her head tilts straight up where a blanket of midnight blacks and navy blues fold together, freckled with silver dots as far as the eye can see. “And the stars. There are billions of them.”
We stop at one of the telescope stations, and the attendant proudly announces that we will get a glimpse of Alpheratz, the brightest star in the constellation Andromeda. June and I take turns examining the glowy, blue halo only ninety-something light-years away.
“Hey you two!” Cara approaches us from behind. “June, you’ve already met Granny, but I also wanted you to meet my granda.”
“What’s that?”
“Granda,” Cara accentuates her words so he’ll hear better. “This is Juniper. Granny met her the other day at the dress fitting.”
I can hardly hear Granny’s “hello” over the sound of sheer delight that escapes from Cara’s grandfather. “Oh! This is Juniper. Orla, this is Juniper.”
“Yes, love, we met.” Her voice sounds like brittle plastic, but she attempts a partial smile to greet us. Beyond that, she remains silent and keeps to herself. Cara’s granda pats June’s hand while saying sweet sentiments, like how lucky Cara is to have found her and that she’s part of the family now.
“Enough about me,” June says, and I sense something strange in her voice. Hesitation? Concern? She must be more nervous than she let on, having to meet people in close to zero visibility. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”
“We very much are.”
Granny titters out a cutting laugh.
“Orla,” Cara’s granda mumbles. “Remember what we agreed—”
“I’m aware .” She straightens. “I’m allowed concerns, though. When you dream of your little ones or their little ones getting married, you…you hope for the best life for them.”
“This is the best, Granny,” Cara says with an unsteady voice. “I’m beyond lucky.”
This won’t go anywhere good. But her gran showed up to the dress fitting and to this, and she’ll have her reserved seat in the front row tomorrow. Somewhere in her heart, she’s happy about this match. She just needs to keep her mouth shut long enough for her grandchild to get married.
“Orla.” I step in to ease the situation like I’ve done countless times before. “Have you peered through the telescope over there? Let’s go have a look together.”
Granny releases her grip on her granddaughter’s arm, and Cara whispers a thank you my way.
We turn to make our escape, and I guide the ticking time bomb that is Granny elsewhere—anywhere away from my best friend. Her gran shakes her head in a feeble back-and-forth. “I really hoped for a real wedding for her. I really did.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” June’s voice, ordinarily breezy and light, stops us in our tracks. Try as I might to lead Granny elsewhere, she’s glued her feet to the ground.
“How can you say that about your own granddaughter?” June goes on.
“It’s fine,” Cara says, letting out an uncomfortable laugh.
“No it’s not,” June says, laser-focused on Granny. “Why do you act like this?”
The old woman gasps, scandalized. Shite, this is bad.
“Cara is one of the kindest, most incredible people I’ve ever met. She’s your grandchild. Don’t you love her?”
“’Course I love her,” Granny spits out.
“June, I—” Cara attempts to butt into the conversation, but June keeps going.
“Then why are you letting your own issues and hang-ups stand in the way of an amazing relationship with her? She’s marrying Yasmine because Yasmine is wonderful, which you’d understand if you ever talked to her or treated her like a real person. She makes Cara happy , which is a lot more than anyone can say about you.”
Her tirade happens like a car wreck—it’s too fast for me to intervene, and it’s painful even though I’m not directly involved. June hasn’t yet grasped their knotted-up family dynamics, and a smidge of second-hand embarrassment comes over me. If she’d just let me whisk Gran away, we could return to normalcy for the wedding weekend.
June notices the extra attention from some nearby clusters of guests. Unaffected, she straightens her posture and clutches Cara’s elbow. “Come on, let’s go.”
Cara doesn’t budge.
“June,” she speaks through a set jaw. “How…how could you say that?”
Granny and Granda turn their backs, facing each other in a tense yet hushed quarrel.
“That’s my gran.”
“She’s being awful, and you—”
“You…that was out of line. You insulted her.”
“She insulted you. And Yasmine.”
“You can’t talk to her like that.”
“You’re mad at me ?”
“Yes. Just—” Cara doesn’t let June finish. “Just go. I need to clean this up. Go, please .”
Their conversation ends, and Cara goes to soothe her grandparents. As she ushers them down the path, I’m left with a stunned June. She looks smaller, like she’s shrunken into herself, and she waits until the last of the guests who witnessed her outburst go back to their telescopes and discussions.
“I can’t believe this,” she says.
“Cara’s relationship with her granny isn’t always the easiest to navigate,” I offer. “Granny’s…critical. Evvie’s talked to her many times about her attitude, but she lacks a filter.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Her words cut like paper. June crosses her arms and faces me head-on, her appearance made more menacing by the red lights around us.
“What?”
“You let her grandma talk to her like that all the time. You’re her best friend. Or supposed to be.”
I don’t know where she’s going with this, but I lower my tone. “Which is why I wanted to take her gran off to do something else. If you’d let—”
“So you can ignore her comments, as usual? She needs to know what she’s doing is wrong, but instead of standing up to her, you were more than happy to remain silent, like you always are, and then I look like the bad guy.”
“That’s why you’re upset?” I keep my voice steady, grinding out each word. “Rather than worry over what people think of you, why not think about what Cara needs?”
“She needs someone on her side.”
How bonkers that she’s turned this onto me. What more could I have done? I relied on a tried-and-true method of handling Cara’s gran. Progress with her granny happens at a glacial pace, but she is coming around, slowly but surely. I’d love to set firmer boundaries with her, but Cara’s assured me that this is how she wants it handled.
“You don’t get to drop in here and tell people what they should do or how to help their best friend of nearly thirty years. Family is complicated, June. Nothing you’d understand after a week being here.”
I despise myself the moment those vicious words come out. I’d swallow them back down if I could, choke on them, but it’s too late—they’ve blown up everything between us.
June takes a step away, and when I reach for her arm, she retracts it like I’m covered in thorns. “No,” she says in a trembling voice as she backs up. “Don’t touch me.” She slips away toward the parking lot and into the empty night.