Jaime stood and browsed my calendar. “Would you like to go on a date today?”
“Where to?”
“Ah, it appears you have a trip to the Aran Islands booked.”
“Not really, I never got my tickets.”
“No problem, we can get them now. Shall we go, m’lady? It’s a beautiful day to explore an island.”
I jumped from my bed and hugged him. “I would love to.”
I scribbled a quick note to Zoey and Marissa informing them we’d be back tomorrow and taped it to their bathroom mirror. Jaime made reservations at the hostel on Inis Mor, and my nerves sprinted around my body like a racetrack. My hips swayed to a song sung in my head as I threw the last of my toiletries in my backpack. The past twenty-four hours had been an emotional rollercoaster, and I felt like my train car was approaching the hill’s peak. The exciting part of the ride was yet to come.
I didn’t fully trust Jaime, but the chains around my heart slowly cracked, allowing space to grow. I welcomed the chemistry between us, and tried my hardest not to think about my life back home. Ireland had thrown me a curveball and I swung and missed with full confidence. Just like with American soccer, I was never good at baseball.
Jaime stepped out of the bathroom wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. My heart skipped a beat, seeing his freshly shaved face and baby-smooth skin. Instead of looking thirty, he looked twenty, and I couldn’t help but slide my hand down his smooth cheek. I traced his lips with my finger, noting for the first time a cleft in his chin and dimples in his cheeks.
I analyzed every square inch of his face. “You look great.” A tugging in my pelvis alerted me to the magnetic attraction, and I pressed my lips against his. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
“Just you wait.” His eyes sparkled, and I stared at his full lips. He tossed me my crossbody bag and we locked up the apartment. I was ready for a do-over and a remote island seemed like the perfect place to rewrite our story.
Thirty minutes later, Jaime and I climbed the bus to Rossaveel, and then the ferry for the second leg of our trip. Settling into seats on the lower deck, I looked out the round window and noticed the rise and fall of the sea. Leaning my head against the wall, I closed my eyes while my stomach tumbled with the waves.
“Not too busy today,” Jaime said.
He was right; about half the seats on the lower deck remained empty. “It’s a good thing it’s almost winter. I don’t think we would have gotten a room otherwise.”
The boat engine kicked on, and the waves outside my window moved backward. My stomach lurched, and I took a sip of water to calm myself. Focusing on my breathing, I tried to eliminate the noise and movement around me.
“How long’s the boat ride?” I asked.
“Eh, don’t know. Less than an hour, I think.”
“I need to close my eyes. I’m not a fan of boats.” My mouth felt like sandpaper, and a set of trapeze artists flipped and swung in my stomach.
We were out on the open water, and the aroma of diesel fuel filled the cabin, intensifying my little performers. My wet, icy fingers grabbed onto each other. “Jaime, talk to me. I need a distraction, and I feel kind of sick.” My head pushed against the seat, and I closed my eyes again. “Tell me a story. Please. Something.”
“A story? Let’s see.” He moved closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him and hugged his torso. My eyes pressed together to avoid any visuals from messing with my stomach. “A story,” he repeated. “Once upon a time, there was a princess who didn’t know what she wanted. She enjoyed being a part of the kingdom, but felt like maybe there were more fun and exciting things beyond the castle walls. The king and queen picked a husband for her, and she knew she should marry him because that was what princesses did.”
“Wait.” I adjusted my face toward him, but kept my eyes closed. “Did she get along with the king and queen?” I leaned against him again.
“Eh, no. She wanted their approval, but never felt like she was good enough. She tried everything to make them proud and did what they wanted and expected, but felt like there was some level of disconnect. So, the man they picked out was not a good man. He seemed nice, but he didn’t treat her well when no one was looking. On her wedding day, she broke free to start over, but was afraid of leaving behind everything she knew.”
I sat up again. “Wait. Did she know how to live outside the castle walls?”
“Ehm, no, she didn’t. But she didn’t care. She knew she would be okay even if she didn’t have their approval. She walked deep into the forest, lost, hungry, cold, and scared. Stumbling upon an abandoned cottage, she found a leprechaun.”
A giggle escaped from my chattering lips.
“No, no, he was like a fairy. A good fairy,” he revised. “He told her he could grant her one wish, and she said with a rather bad American accent, ‘I wish I were happy for the rest of my days.’”
I laughed again and swatted him on the stomach.
“And the fairy jumped three times, and a swirl of fairy dust wrapped around her. When the dust settled, she was standing in front of a man. A real man. The fairy was gone, and he welcomed her into his home, and they lived happily ever after. The end.” He stroked my hair. “Feeling better?”
I sat up and groaned, “I was until you reminded me!”
Lost in our thoughts, the ferry pulled into port. I let his story settle around me, as I pondered his thinly-veiled interpretation of my life. I wanted to ask if he was the fairy, but it almost felt like the decision was mine to make.
