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“Glad to hear it. How long are you staying?”
Until I die.“Not sure yet. Open-ended.”
He casts a curious glance my way, eyebrow arched. “Oh? Are you meeting friends? Family?”
“Nope. Just me, myself, and I.”
“Interesting. A bucket list visit, then?”
“It is.”
“Well, I truly hope your visit is exactly what you were eager for.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
He merges onto a road that—according to the map I browsed while on the plane—should take us to my rented room in the Academy Plaza Hotel, which is close to a lot of the pubs I researched in the few hours I had before boarding the flight I booked last minute.
As we pass by various shops and restaurants, my anxiousness begins to fade away, making room for excitement. Butterflies flitter in my stomach, and for the first time in years, it’s not due to nerves over bad results.
This is my time. If I’m going out—if that truly is my fate—then it’s going to be one hell of an exit. Bungee jumping, mountain climbing, surfing—I’m going to do it all. Maybe Ireland is just the start, after all. I could stay for a week then move on. Maybe go to Greece or head to Rome.
So many possibilities and nothing to keep me grounded.
“I like your shirt, by the way. Mother cluckers. Good one.”
“My friend has decided she wants to wage a war on non-funny t-shirts. So, she’s on a mission to single-handedly fill the world with ‘ExpresShirts.’”
He laughs, a deep sound that makes me grin like an idiot. “I like your friend.”
“She’s something else, that’s for sure.”
“So you’re truly just here to take in the sights of Dublin?”
“I am. I wanted to see the place before…” I trail off, swallowing hard. This is a new place, a new country, and here I can be anyone I want. Here, I’m not Ember Hall: dead woman walking. “Before I lost the chance.”
“I understand that. We only live once, right?” He throws me a wink.
How true that is. “Right.”
He pulls off the road and in front of the hotel. “Well, Ember Hall, here we are.” With a grin that borders on too sexy for work, he climbs out of the car and rushes around to open my door. “I’ll grab your bag.”
“I can get it.”
“Nonsense, it’s all part of the package, love.” He winks at me again, and heat rushes to my cheeks.
No one ever flirts with me. Not anymore. And even though I know he’s doing it for a tip, it doesn’t diminish the impact. Or the fact that he’s one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. Dude could model on book covers and make a killing.
He comes around the car, and I start to grab my bag, but he shakes his head. “I’ll carry it to the front desk for you.”
“You really don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Enjoying the feeling of being pampered when it doesn’t come with a side of pity, I resign myself to the idea of accepting his help. “Okay. That would be great, thanks.”
He opens the door for me, so I step inside. The lobby is warm, welcoming. Maroon carpet adorned with white petals covers the floor, while chairs, in leather a shade of maroon that’s slightly brighter than the carpet, are arranged throughout the room along with small brown tables. We move farther in, walking on polished white tile floors, and I’m greeted with warm smiles from the two women working the front desk.
“You have an Ember Hall here,” Sullivan announces as we walk up to the desk.
