“Nothing. So that’s Scott, eh?” he asked.
My face fell, curious about Jaime’s feelings toward Scott, but I was afraid to hear his answer. Instead of responding, I nodded.
“He seems okay. Like a harmless bloke.”
“You’re too polite. I’d like to hear what you really think on Sunday.” I looked at the picture on his desk. “What are you drawing?”
“Oh, it’s for my drawing class, the only class I like this semester.”
I recognized the shading along the craggy cliffs and the reflection of the sun on the ocean horizon. “It’s beautiful. Is that from the Aran Islands?”
“Yeah, it was a moment I don’t want to forget.”
“What do you want to do when you graduate in the spring?”
He took his notepad out of my hand and placed it on the table. “Well, art is just for fun. Finance is boring but necessary, so I hope to have a job to pay the bills and somehow make money off my art. Maybe next time you visit, you’ll find me along the Spanish Arch selling my paintings to tourists.”
Draping my arms across his shoulders, I said, “I’ll buy every painting you create. Your drawings are exquisite.”
“Thanks. Yeah, I don’t know. I’ll probably start applying for jobs in April and start in the summer. Maybe I’ll even work for my dad, running the books on his landscape company. I have options.” He kissed my neck, and I melted into him. “Just so we’re on the same page, what’s the story with us, again?”
“Between us? Just roommates. Especially with Scott here. I don’t want him to know anything about my personal life. And Marty clearly can’t be trusted.”
Jaime kissed me again. “With that, my darling, we’re entering the friend zone.” He pushed me off his lap and stood beside me before leaving me alone in our bedroom.
“Hey, Scott!” I heard Jaime call. “Are you ready for a night out? I know all the places you’ll want to go.”
I heard them bro-hug, and when I entered the room, I saw Jaime snug between Scott and Marty on the loveseat. I hid my laughter and disguised my pursed lips by drinking from a can of soda. Facing the sink, I heard Jaime say, “Yeah, man, it’ll be grand. I’ll take care of you.”
My eyes bugged and I fought back a smile. My boyfriend is taking care of my ex-boyfriend? This should be interesting…
Chapter 30
We usually walked into town, but the damp November night was too much for Marty’s hair. She had packed an outfit for every occasion but had forgotten an essential item: a raincoat. Owen and Aoife met us at our apartment and we took three cabs into the city center. I pointed out all the landmarks as we flew past, but Marty was too preoccupied with checking her makeup in a small, compact mirror to look up and admire the location.
Walking up and down the quiet, pedestrian streets, Jaime pointed at a small pub wedged between two restaurants. “This pub is famous for Irish set dancing. If you want to experience dance, music, and beer, this is the place to go. Have you done this yet?”
Marissa, Zoey, and I shook our heads. “Set dancing?” I asked. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s kind of like what you guys know as line dancing,” Owen explained.
We walked into the dark pub and settled at a round table. “Let me buy the first round,” Jaime said. His acting skills and generosity impressed me.
He made two trips from the bar, carrying stacked pyramids of Guinness pints. The white heads of the pint glasses contrasted with the dark stout below, reminding me of a developing storm.
“Thanks, Jaime.” Marty flashed him her most confident smile and flipped her hair over her shoulder. I took a sip to avoid speaking.
We chatted cordially, and Marty took over the conversation, always bringing it back to her. I rolled my eyes in the shadows as she told us about their flight and their first impressions of Ireland. The pub filled more than I expected for a Wednesday night, and soon it was full. Being the courteous hostess I was, I grabbed the next round after the first set of beers emptied.
As the alcohol flowed, the tension in my body loosened, and I laughed, joked, and danced to the traditional Irish music playing a few feet away. I wanted to keep my walls up to show Marty she couldn’t barrel in and destroy my weekend, but the Irish magic tore down the barricade, and I found myself giggling and reminiscing with her. It was my only Thanksgiving in Ireland, and I wanted to make it exciting—but not as memorable as Halloween. I pushed my beer to the center of the table, making it last.
The fiddle and bodhran filled the small room, dampening the patrons’ chatter. People of all ages jumped to the middle of the dance floor and formed facing lines. “Set dancing,” Jaime confirmed.
Zoey jumped up. “Can anyone do it?”
“Yeah, but you don’t want to mess it up. Those people mean business.”
I kicked Jaime under the table and giggled.
