airport from the Cliffs of Moher—totally worth it—and ended up at the wrong gate with a big old poster of John F. Kennedy smiling down at me while I tried to figure out where I was supposed to be. Naturally, my phone began to ring.
I checked the display. It was Aidan. Worried that it was some dire news about his cancer, I answered as I sprinted across the terminal, dragging my bag behind me.
“Aidan, hi, how are you?” I dodged a toddler who’d stopped for no apparent reason, zipped around a man in a wheelchair, and passed a couple who, guessing by their body language, were in the midst of a tear-fueled breakup. Judging by her lack of tears and his quivering lip, it was her doing the breaking, not him.
“Never better,” he said. He sounded chipper. “Listen, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to ask a favor of you.”
“Sure, what do you need?” I checked my boarding pass and read the gate number. I needed to be at sixteen. “Not to rush you, but I’m just about to board my plane to Paris.”
“Yes, I know,” Aidan said. “Jason mentioned you were headed to Paris and Italy, which is coincidentally where Robbie Severin is going to be. Severin reached out to us, Chelsea, and he’d like to meet with you in Tuscany. Can you do that?”
“What?” I dashed to the gate. I was going to kill Jason. Why had he told Aidan about Paris and Italy, and how had it come up with Severin? I mean, not that where I was going was a big secret, but what else had he told Aidan about my trip? Who else had he told? I had a sudden vision of Jason yukking it up at the water cooler as he told everyone at the ACC about my ex-boyfriend in Ireland being married. Argh.
I couldn’t hear Aidan over the airport noise and switched the phone to my other ear, hoping it was clearer. The flight display board behind the person at the counter read Paris with the correct departure time and flight number. Phew. I moved to the end of the boarding line.
“So, the wine festival in Tuscany next week,” Aidan said, raising his voice. “Can you meet Severin there?”
“Next week? Why does he want to meet there?” I stalled. I’d been in touch with Marcellino online. He was the only one of the three I’d been able to connect with, and I’d been looking forward to visiting him, but we hadn’t nailed down a specific date. My travel plans were pretty fluid, since I was retracing my steps and not knowing what I’d find—like a married Colin. Now if I had to hurry to Italy to entertain Severin, who was notoriously odd, it could ruin everything in Paris.
“He just wants to meet you,” Aidan said.
“But I don’t have my laptop or my files or anything,” I protested. Several people got in line behind me, looking as harried as I felt. “It’s not like I can give a presentation or anything.”
“This is more social than business,” he said. “I think he’s just looking to make sure his contribution is in capable hands. Can you do this?”
I had no idea what was going to happen in Paris with Jean Claude, and I hated promising to be in Italy when it might prove to be ill timed or really inconvenient, but this was Aidan. He was my mentor and my friend, and he needed me. There was no choice to be made.
“Of course, I’ll do it,” I said.
“That’s my Chelsea,” Aidan said. I could just picture his crooked grin behind his beard.
The line moved. I was next up.
“Your passport and boarding pass, miss?” asked the airline representative. She glanced at my bag with a frown. “We’ll have to check that here at the gate, as the overhead bins are already full. You almost missed your flight.”
“Sorry, Aidan, I have to go,” I said. I was feeling frantic and rushed, two emotions that always put me on edge. “I’ll be in touch when I land.”
I ended the call, hearing Aidan say goodbye as I shuffled my things, trying to hand the airline rep my boarding pass while managing my passport—I could hear my dad’s voice in my head, saying, Don’t lose your passport—my phone, and my bags. I must have looked like a hot mess as the woman smiled at me in a reassuring way, handing my pass back once the machine registered it with a