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“Yes, that’s right, Dr. O’Leary. How are you? I mean, after…”
“Nah, I’m a little bit of an”—he lowers his voice, leaning closer into me— “arsehole when I’m frightened. And I really thought something was wrong with Jett. That’s all. But rest assured, no more comparing skyscrapers to well, you know. Of course, I can’t wait to find out how he can describe other things. But here’s to hope, right?”
His accent is more pronounced, from yesterday, and with knowing a little bit of the United Kingdom, I take this chance to strike up a conversation.
“Irish? Right?” I ask. And with the name O’Leary, I have to be right.
“Yep, born and bred. But I lived most of my adult life in London. After university and medical school and such. It just made sense. But my ex-wife was from the States, and after the divorce, I had to be with my son. And she deserved to live near family again.”
Oh, so he’s not married. Jett had told me the first day of school his mum, as he called her, had died. It broke my heart for the little boy, who truly is one of the most remarkable students I’ve had. But who knew if the handsome doctor was remarried, or whatnot.
“And you, Mr. Smith? I hear the slightest of accents. It’s not strong but being that I spent summers on my grandparents’ farm in Scotland, I’m going to guess that.”
There’s something about the swirls of crystal blue of his eyes that draw me in.
“You have a good ear, Dr. O’Leary. Yeah, we moved from Scotland when I was ten. Every year I lose more and more of it. And now that my family is all in the States—I have no reason to visit Scotland. I miss it.”
He stands still for a couple seconds, where it becomes almost eerily silent. “Nah, Mr. Smith. Scotland is beautiful. You have every reason to visit, if just for your own enjoyment.”
He has a great point. But why would I just up and visit somewhere by myself? Plus, there’s a little matter of money, where Marcie has really put me in a bind after her quick departure.
“Gibson,” I say, and the doctor looks confused.
“Hmm?” he asks.
“Please call me Gibson. I mean, it’s my first name after all.”
“Oh, right.” He’s so Irish, even in his speech. It’s actually quite cute. “I guess all teachers do have a first name. And I’m Stone. No more of this doctor crap.”
Stone? “Stone, it’s not uniquely Irish.”
“Excuse me,” an annoyed voice of an older man calls from behind. We’re blocking a good portion of the entrance and exit of the canned goods aisle.
“I’m so very sorry, sir.” This of course is Stone and his English background seeps in. He’s not just very Irish, he’s also very English.
We move out of the way. “So, I’ll tell you what, Mr. Smith…I mean Gibson.” He meant to do that, just to impart a wink my way. Or that would be my guess. “I’m just getting a couple snacks for Jett. He’s at his grandfather’s tonight. How about you meet me over at the pub next door, The Levitan? They have the best chicken wings. Something you’d probably not expect an Irishman to say.”
I let out a low laugh, getting his attention.
“What’s so funny?” The way Stone accentuates funny with a higher pitch really is adorable.
“Yeah, well, I love their wings. Was planning on that, along with a beer or two.”
He lets out a deep rumble. “Ah, now you’re speaking an Irishman’s love language.”
I take stock of my groceries. I have soda, ramen noodles, and apples along with toilet paper and coffee. I’m good to go for now.
“Yeah, I’m done, too. How about I meet you over there?” I ask.
With a bob of his head, he walks past me, and I don’t miss the way the denim in his jeans hugs his ass. It’s been a long time and I mean a long fucking time since a guy has had my attention. But right now, Dr. O’Leary apparently has the attention of my entire body.
* * *
He’sin a round booth in the corner, a few beers on the table, with a tray of wings.
“Wow, you’ve been busy.” I slide into the booth as he lets out a long, deep chuckle.
“I’ve gotta say, when I met you the other day, you seemed a bit uptight. And now you’re so…what do the yanks call it? Normal? Laid back, even funny.”
