back home next week. It didn’t seem believable and it didn’t seem right.
Like, thanks for the ring and the Irish stew, see ya!
So I told them I was basically staying for as long as Padraig was and, well, I think that may have created some problems.
Problems I then decided to handle by drinking copious amounts of whisky and passing out on the couch. Thankfully that happened after everyone had retired to their rooms. I remember Padraig carrying me upstairs and putting me on my bed, and the last thing he said was, “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
Well, now it’s the morning. It’s sunny out, not a cloud in the blinding blue sky, but the tip of my nose is cold and the window is frosted. I reach over and grab my phone, seeing a joint text from Sandra and Angie, plus one from my friend Brielle, all asking me how I am.
I think I’m staying longer, I text my sisters.
Good! Such a cool country! Might extend my vacation haha lol, I text Brielle.
I get out from under the covers and quickly get dressed, shivering as I go, putting on fleece-lined leggings and a big sweater.
After I’ve washed up, I check my phone to see the reply from my sisters:
I knew it (Sandra).
Are you sure you know what you’re doing?
She’s a big girl and she can do what she wants and u know she needs the D…(this is Sandra).
She knows it’s you! You don’t have to keep saying Sandra!
Ur right, she knows ur the dream crusher.
I don’t bother texting Sandra and the dream crusher back. Not right now. I have to sort it all out with Padraig first.
I head down the creaky narrow staircase to the dining room, surprised to see it empty, even though there are table settings out.
I poke my head in the kitchen to see Gail by the stove, putting on a kettle.
“Am I late for breakfast? Sorry, I forgot to set an alarm.”
She looks at me calmly. “You’re not late.”
“Where is everyone?”
She raises a brow, as if amused that I don’t know where my fiancé is, and says patiently, “Padraig is at the mews. Colin is watching TV at the cottage. Agnes is doing the washing and who knows where the Major is.”
“Oh, thank you,” I say, starting to leave.
“Aren’t ye hungry? You’ve not had breakfast.”
“That’s okay.”
“Sit down. I’ll bring ye food.”
“Oh, that’s no problem. I can do it myself.”
She keeps that level stare. “It’s my job. Please, tell me what you want and I’ll bring it to ye.”
I’m about to tell her anything is fine but I think I need to be more direct with her, and probably everyone in general. “Eggs, bacon, beans,” I tell her, since that’s the breakfast I’ve been having since I got to Ireland. “Thank you.”
She shrugs and gets to work, so I go back to my seat and sit down. I’d only just met Gail last night but I have a feeling she doesn’t like me. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid, because she wasn’t overtly friendly to anyone. Still, she stared at me a lot, and judging by her expression, I don’t think she had kind thoughts.
She comes out with a plate of fried eggs doused in pepper, streaky thick bacon, beans, and grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, plus big slices of toast.
My stomach growls loudly at the sight.
Yum.
“See, I knew you’d be hungry,” she says, sitting down across from me and nursing a cup of tea in her hands. “You were really getting into the whisky last night.”
I think this is her attempt to belittle me but I just shrug. “Hard to say no when you’re in such good company.”
Then I shovel the eggs into my mouth. She eyes me with a slight level of disgust, and judging by how thin she is, she’s probably putting the way I eat and the size of my body together.
I’m used to that with my mother. I’m not going to let it bother me on the other side of the Atlantic.
“So, you’re getting married to Padraig,” Gail says, her voice tight and chipper. “You’re a lucky lady. You do know that, don’t ye?”
“Of course,” I say, trying to swallow. “He’s the best.”
“But you’ve only known him for a year. It’s a bit soon to get married, don’t ye think?”
Oh god, I heard this crap when I was engaged to Cole.