BÉBHINN
Dad,
Catch up news first. I finished another year at uni. Only one more left. Grades are excellent, btw. I’ve gotten a few small interior jobs that Mom and the aunts have thrown me. They approved of my work.
Bran and Patrick put on a brave face, but I wonder if they will ever stop missing you. If Mom and I are anything to compare to, they won’t.
I imagine it’s a matter of endurance. Learning to live with part of yourself missing. I’m glad they have Raven and River and the boys.
Proper warning. I’m giving Mom a year, maybe two, to begin to consider dating. I know you probably just crackedthe glass of whiskey you’re holding at the thought, but she has so much love to give.
You know she is a woman who loves someone with everything she is. There is someone out there who deserves to have that love directed their way—even if it is only half as much as she gave you.
Daniel and Jonathan are shitheads. Okay, not always, and I love them. Daniel is following in your entrepreneurial footsteps, and Jonathan is close behind as he graduated this year. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you everything, you are surely watching your grandchildren. Their taste in women is still questionable.
Mags is still diligently working on her embroidery masterpiece, which she believes the Queen will “swoon over.” For all her mouthy ways, she is an exceptional talent. Her sister, Mirren, is visiting soon and has promised to root out the security cameras that Gray and Blair’s dads have hidden around our house.
I know you know where they are. Send me a dream or something. There is no line those Scottish bastards won’t cross to keep an eye out on us. What am I saying? I’m sure you approve of their methods. Don’t deny it. (I’m rolling my eyes.)
Let me see. What else is happening around here? Blair has an incredible opportunity for an internship in Wales, which you know she’ll get. She is that smart and doubly passionate about botany. The nature conservation would be lucky to get her. Oh, and she went out on a date last weekend—like the first one EVER and didn’t give me or the girls an ounce of detail!
Gray and I will graduate next year. We still plan on working closely together (and I’m sure any businesses she opens and I decorate will have Blair’s plants and Mags’ embroidery tucked in some odd corner of them all).
Gray works more for O’Connor Hospitality than I do for Triskelion. My hobby is hiking. Her hobby is checking real estate adverts. She’s obsessed.
Speaking of passions, I’m hoping to get Mom some gorgeous hand-painted wallpaper for one of the rooms in your flat. She’s already redecorated a couple of rooms. I’m so proud of her.
If I were being strictly honest, I think the changes help her, but I also believe that nothing will make that flat any less “Hugh and Rowan’s.”
Okay. You’re caught up on family and friends. Now it’s my turn.
I’m in need of advice and…forgiveness…maybe?
So, listen—Dagr Griffiths—you’ll remember him. Hike. Cave. White hair. Remember? The hiker who didn’t forget his sat phone.
Well, we’ve become friends. Good friends, actually.
He came to Dublin a few weeks ago to have a drink. With me (in case you missed the obvious).
I’m afraid I have a bit of a crush on him that I’m not sure he reciprocates, but I hope he does.
He’s older than me, and before you jump on your high horse, nothing like you and Mom. I’m afraid of how the boys will react. I wish you were here to talk them down, but if you were here, you’d probably be leading the charge, soooo.
I know all his bests and worsts. Favorites and hates. Foods, movies, and books. His favorite color is white. I said, “How boring,” he said, “A wash with bleach makes it good as new.”
See??? Funny and practical.
Anyway. Oh Lord, why is this so hard to write? Damnit! Anyway, Dagr invited me to a charity gala. It’s in London. I don’t know if it’s as friends or an actual date.
I want it to be a date.
I haven’t told the family that he and I are still talking. We talk every day.
Mags, Gray, and Blair think I should lie about why I’m going to London, but you know I don’t like to lie.
I’m not sleeping, I’m so conflicted. I toss and turn and stare at the ceiling. Don’t mistake my guilty conscience for a change of heart. I am going.
It’s just… God, Dad, I want your approval so bad my stomach aches with it. It isn’t fair that I met a man that I see a future with.
