“Say hi to Ma and Da for us,” Maggie says. “And Kane and Stasia, too.”
“I will. You know, you’re both welcome to come out here anytime. There’s more than enough room.”
“Soon,” Maeve says. “Love you.”
“I love you, too. Tell Keegan the same, will you?”
“Sure. Bye!”
I hang up and grab a jacket from a nearby chair. My room at the inn owned by some cousins of mine is more than comfortable, but it’s a little on the small side. Which means, after being here for a month, I’m about to bust out of it.
I have too much crap. Clothes are scattered here and there, shoes on the floor, and the small vanity in the bathroom is covered with my razor and all of the other things a guy uses in the jack.
These rooms are comfortable but not meant to house a person for thirty-plus days.
But I don’t regret being here. Not at all.
Coming here was the right thing to do. I’ve been able to have tunnel vision and focus on my project. Is it because of the extra few thousand miles between Lexi and me? Maybe. But no matter the reason, I’m grateful for it. I needed the reprieve from thoughts of her.
I needed to catch my breath.
And I’ve done that in Ireland.
I hurry down a set of steps, move through the lobby, and meet Kane and Da on the front steps of the inn.
“Sorry, I was talking with Mary Margaret and Maeve, and those two never shut up.”
“They have a gift for gab, they do,” Da agrees with a happy nod. “Let’s get on then, shall we?”
“What are we doing, anyway?” I ask, not sure what my father has up his sleeve for this afternoon. All I know is I was to meet him, along with Kane, at three.
“There’s something I want you to see,” Kane says, leading the way down the lane. We’re on foot, so it must not be far away.
“Did you buy more property here?” I ask.
“No, not yet. Although, Anastasia has her eye on a pretty little cottage down the way that I might get her for Christmas.”
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. “You have more money than God himself.”
“No, just enough to spoil my bride,” Kane says.
“As it should be,” Da adds. “And it’s proud I am of all my successful children. Every parent wants their child to have a better lot in life than they had. Now, your sainted mother and I did just fine. Just fine, indeed. But we struggled, and that’s the truth of it. So to see all of our children love what they do, and make a pretty penny at it besides, it fills our hearts with pure joy.”
Kane leads us to the barn on our uncle’s property that houses a kiln and all the tools he needs to turn his glass. He rarely shows us his pieces, so whatever he wants to show us must be extra special.
He rolls up the old-fashioned door and flicks on a light. Lined on shelves are pieces of glass in all sizes and colors. They’re absolutely gorgeous.
“Is this for the exhibit in Galway next month?” I ask as I approach one piece in particular that catches my eye. It looks like two figures, a woman and a man, entangled in an intimate embrace.
It reminds me of Lexi.
“It is,” Kane says. “We put off the exhibition for more than a year so I could fine-tune it and build the right pieces. Coming to Ireland early was the right call.”
“It’ll be a Christmas exhibit?” I ask.
“Mid-December through Valentine’s Day,” my brother replies and turns to Da, who’s standing a few feet away, taking it all in. “What do you think?”
Our father shakes his head and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “I think there couldn’t be a man in the world as proud as I. These pieces are lovely, Kane.”
“I think so,” Kane says, turning a critical eye back to his work. “I think the curator will be happy, and they should fetch a nice amount of money.”
“Money or no money, you’ve done something extraordinary.”
“Thank you. I also wanted to tell the both of you, privately, some happy news. Anastasia is expecting.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen my father’s face shine so brightly as he beams at my brother now.
“That’s the best bloody news I’ve ever heard,” Da says.
“Congratulations,” I add. “When are you going to tell the others?”
“I told Ma this morning. She was bursting at the seams to shout it from the rooftops, but I made her promise to let me do the telling. I’ll call the others in a bit. I wish we were all together for the news, but that’s okay.”
“When is she due?” Da asks.
“In the spring,” Kane replies. “Early May.”
“Fiona will be for knitting a blanket and sewing a Christening gown, of course. We’d better get back and make sure our girl isn’t on her feet.”
“She’s fine, Da,” I reply, laughing at the doting grandfather. “I know it’s your first grandchild and you’re excited, but Stasia is just fine.”
“Taking care of our girls is our job, my son. Don’t you forget that. Now, speaking of our girls, when are you going to get your Lexi back?”
I stare at him as Kane closes the barn door behind us. “She’s not mine to be getting.”
“Love is wasted on the young,” Da mutters in frustration. “I just spoke with her last week. She’s doing very well, but I can hear the loneliness in her voice, and it’s there because you’re too pig-headed to admit that you belong together.”
“Hold on.” I stop walking and hold my hand up, ignoring Kane as he laughs his ass off. “You talked to Lexi?”
“Of course. She’s a lovely woman, and if I was thirty years younger and not married to the most wonderful woman on Earth, I’d be after her meself.”
I narrow my eyes at my father. Kane’s practically doubled over in glee.
“What are you laughing at?”
“You should see your face. Are you jealous of your own father?”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
Fuck. I’m jealous of my da.
I want to hear her voice. I want her to want to talk to me.
Damn it all to hell.
“Do you talk to her often?”
“She calls your mother and me weekly,” he says, pride thick in his voice. “She’s been doing some research for a book and had questions for us.”
Questions I could have answered.
“Now it’s become a weekly habit. We speak every Tuesday evening after supper.”
I sigh and push my hand through my hair.
“How does it feel to know your father talks to your girl, but you don’t?” Kane asks.
“I will kick your ass,” I remind him.
He purses his lips as if he’s giving something a lot of thought. “Nope. Not afraid of you, little brother.”
It seems my reprieve from all thoughts about Lexi is finally over. Thank God the movie I was writing is pretty much finished.
I may never write again.
When we reach the inn, I walk upstairs to my room to check my email before I join the family for dinner. I’m tempted to send Lexi a quick note, just to ask her how she’s doing, but I’m not sure that would be welcome. Based on how distant she acted at the airport when I dropped her off, and the fact that—besides one short text exchange—I haven’t heard from her, I assume she’s not interested in staying friends.