Then I laughed.
Aoife looked at me, and her eyes were kind. “That laugh. That’s the sound my Colin pined for. He always said your laugh made him laugh, too. He was right. It’s a good one.”
I wiped the sweat off my face with a napkin. I smiled at Aoife and confessed, “I haven’t laughed like that in a really long time.”
She raised her glass and said, “Then you were overdue. May love and laughter light your days.”
“And warm your heart and home,” I returned and clinked my glass to hers.
Just before midnight a cabbie appeared, probably the only one in Finn’s Hollow and the surrounding area. Colin had sent him to collect his wife. Aoife laughed and insisted that the cabbie drop me off at my cottage first, even though it was a short walk and I could have gotten there in minutes.
Aoife and I hugged each other goodbye like long-lost sisters while the cab driver waited. As I walked to my door, I tripped over a paving stone but caught myself before I fell. I looked at Aoife and asked, “Who put that there?”
She laughed and cried, “Come visit us again, Chelsea Martin. You’ve got friends in Finn’s Hollow!”
I found myself grinning as I unlocked the door to my cottage and stepped inside. Ireland had certainly not lived up to my expectations in any way, and yet I was okay. Surprisingly okay, in fact. Of course it could be the whiskey.
I shrugged off my coat and kicked off my half boots. The cottage was chilly, so I set another peat log in the fireplace and lit it. I sat on the stone hearth and let the fire’s heat warm me. My phone chimed and I frowned. It was awfully late for texting, unless it was coming from the States.
I took out my phone and opened the messages. The first one that popped up was a GIF from Jason of Maverick and Goose from Top Gun exchanging a high five. I snorted and saw that he’d also left a text message.
Maverick, don’t leave me hanging. What’s happening? I am dying here. Literally dying.
I wasn’t sure why, but I opened his number in my contacts and then paused, staring at it. What was I doing? I didn’t want to call him, did I? I was shocked to find I did. Huh. Then again, he’d had a conference call with Severin’s community-outreach team. I was definitely curious about how that had gone. Without giving myself a moment for second thoughts, I pressed CALL.
chapter ten
MARTIN, I WAS about to send out a search-and-rescue party,” Jason answered on the second ring. “What happened? Was there a catfight? Did the wife try to take you out? Are you in the hospital?”
“No, no, no,” I said. I chuckled. “Aoife—the wife—and I sent Colin home with the children, and we had a girls’ night. Turns out, I’d met her before.”
“Well, that’s an unexpected twist,” he said. “I’m not sure if I’m more relieved or disappointed. Unless of course ‘girls’ night’ is a euphemism for something naughty.”
“It’s not.”
“Pity.”
I laughed.
“Let’s switch to video,” Jason said.
“No, I’m tired, possibly drunk, and—”
“Precisely why I need to get a look at schnockered Martin,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk.”
“I don’t get drunk,” I said.
“Thus my point,” he said.
“Okay, fine,” I agreed. Although I wasn’t sure why I was going along with this. I was definitely still the worse for the shots of whiskey, which meant no good decisions were being made.
“Hello.” I squinted at my phone when the video link came through.
“Hi there.” Jason’s face popped up, and I smiled in recognition.
It hit me that I was happy to see someone from home, even Knightley, my resident pain in the ass. I glanced past him and saw his office window and through it the nighttime skyline of Boston.
“You’re at work?”
He held up a bound stack of paper. “Severin Robotics, the dossier.” Then he yawned.
“Nice, really nice,” I said.
“I honestly didn’t do that on purpose,” he said. “It’s just been a long day, and my god, the spreadsheet numbers in this thing could only get an accountant hard.”
I snorted. “I like spreadsheets.”
“Clearly.”
“I tried to warn you that my style and your style don’t mesh, but you were so sure you could distill my plan, no problem.”
“Yeah, I might have been a bit overconfident there,” he said. His tone was rueful. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not. I like that you admitted you were overconfident.” I smiled, then waved my hand dismissively.