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The little girl throws her arms around her sister again, then just as quickly releases her, and runs toward the kitchen and the stairs that lead to their flat above the pub. She turns and waves. “Bye, Aidan.”
I return the gesture, but she’s already dashed around the corner. Then I face Sorcha. Her gaze lingers where Aisling disappeared before she shifts it to me.Where did the dark circles under her eyes come from? Or the rigid way she stands like she’s bracing for something? They weren’t there earlier tonight, were they?
“You’d tell me if things weren’t okay, right?” I have to ask, then cock my head. “And don’t lie to me either.”
“Of course I’d tell you.” Sorcha doesn’t even blink.
A fucking lie.
“Oy, can I get a drink?” A rough voice calls out behind her.
She jumps, fists the apron she wears, and spins away from me to hurry over to the impatient man. I throw back the rest of my whiskey and set the glass on the smooth wooden bar. While Sorcha takes and fills each order that comes through, I study her. She smiles at each patron, but the longer she does, the harder it appears for her to maintain it.
Do I offer her money to help her get by for a while?You know she’ll refuse. Probably, but I should still offer it. Then again, how can a guy who allegedly works as an underpaid security guard for a Dublin-based business afford to loan or gift her that kind of cash? It would lead to a lot of questions I don’t plan on answering.
The hours drag by as slowly the patrons leave until there’s no one left but Sorcha and me. She locks the door, turns off the front lights casting darkness over the entrance, and walks back behind the bar. Her steps are slow like she can barely pick up her feet.
“I wish you would have let me help you.” I also should keep my mouth shut, but I hate seeing her like this.
She wipes down the bar and shakes her head. “You’re a guest, not an employee. Besides, it’s easier if I do it. I have a system.”
Some system. Sorcha has one cook, who could barely keep up with the orders, which left her to serve as both waitress and barkeep. With her Da gone, why hasn’t she hired extra help? “Can’t you teach your system to someone so you’re not left doing it all yourself?”
“I don’t have time to teach anyone.” Sorcha sighs and puts a bunch of dirty glasses in the sink. “Can we please not argue about this? You’re only here for a couple days, and I’ve barely gotten to talk to you at all. I feel bad that you came to visit and I have to work the whole time.”
Getting up from my seat, I circle around to stand next to her.“Don’t feel bad. I’m the one who showed up without calling first.” With everything that has gone down with Liam Campbell and the whole family, I needed to get away for a bit. “Now, move over. I’ll wash.”
Sorcha opens her mouth, no doubt to argue, but I shush her. “Don’t make me pick you up and carry you over to the stool. Sit down. I’m perfectly capable of washing a few glasses.”
I hold out my hand for the towel draped over her shoulder. With an annoyed growl, she slides it off, smacks it into my palm, then walks around to the other side and hops up into the bar stool I recently vacated. “How’s your cousin? Caitlín, isn’t it? Did she get engaged yet?”
“She did. Maybe a month or so ago.” I dip the glass into the hot as shit sudsy water, rinse it off, and set it on the mat beside the sink. “It’s a short engagement, too, from what I hear. They’re getting married in a couple months at Caitlín’s parents’ house in Brooklyn.”
“Wow, that is fast.” Sorcha leans her elbow on the bar and props her head on her fist. “Then again, when you know you’ve met the right person, why wait?”
I glance up at her. “I had no idea you were a romantic.”
She lifts one shoulder. “I wouldn’t say I’m romantic. More pragmatic. If you love someone and want to spend the rest of your life with them, then do it without all the long, drawn-out fuss.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?”
“Then it doesn’t work out,” she says it so matter-of-factly. “Why stress about what-ifs and hypotheticals?”
I stare at Sorcha. No, definitely not romantic. Which makes me glad. When we first became friends, I’d worried she hint at wanting something more between us, but she never has. It’s been nice not having to worry about hurting her feelings when things didn’t work out between us. Our friendship is the longest relationship I’ve ever been in.
“Man, I hope the poor bastard who falls in love with you knows you won’t be too broken-hearted if you two ever break up.” I snort.
A weird expression crosses her face, but then she glares. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t be broken-hearted. I just said I’m not going to bother worrying about something that may or may not happen.”
I finish the last of the glasses and dry my hands on the towel. “What else needs to be done?” Sorcha opens her mouth, but I interrupt. “Just tell me, so we can get it done instead of arguing about who’s doing it.”
“It’s rude to assume you know what I’m going to say before I say it.”
“So you weren’t going to tell me you have a system for this, too?” I arch an eyebrow.
“Smug doesn’t look good on you.”
I bark out a laugh and spread my arms out. “Are you kidding? Everything looks good on me.”
