My Life in Shambles(14)

She looks impressed, nodding slowly. “Wow. That’s something.”

“And what’s your name? What do ye do? Where are ye from?”

What light there was in her eyes dims slightly and I immediately regret asking so many questions. That’s not like me either. “My name is Valerie. Valerie Stephens. I live in New York but I’m from Philadelphia. And currently, well, I’m here. That’s all I know.”

Curious answer. I study her for a moment, taking in the cut of her jaw, the smooth, porcelain quality of her skin. I want to know more and yet I can tell she doesn’t know what to give me.

“Other than being here though, ye obviously did something before. In New York. What was that? Or am I prying too much?”

“No, you’re not prying,” she says carefully, taking a dainty sip of her drink. She clears her throat. “I guess you could say I’m a writer. Freelance now. I did have a job for an online newspaper but I was just laid off, literally the day after Christmas.”

“Shite.”

“Yeah. Actually, it’s one of the reasons why I came to Ireland. My sisters were always planning to come and I’d been saying no because of work. Suddenly I was let go and I guess it was the only thing that made sense anymore.”

I nod because I understand. Today the rug was pulled out from under me, and for some reason, the only thing that makes sense to me is talking to her. Even if it’s just for this moment, just for tonight, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me on my feet.

“How long are ye here for?”

“A week,” she says.

“Going anywhere in particular?”

She shrugs, looking shy and wistful all at once. There’s something so damn vulnerable about her that’s refreshing. I don’t let anyone get too close to me and the few relationships I’ve had have always been rather shallow. Everyone is always dancing around each other, acting a part, playing a game. But this girl is different. Everything about her is and I don’t think she even knows it.

“I don’t know,” she says eventually. “My sisters are in charge. I’m just giving them the reins and letting them steer.”

“I bet it feels good to let someone else be in control for a bit, someone ye trust.”

Valerie gives me a small smile. “That’s true. Except I’m not sure how much I trust my sisters. They have a bit of an agenda right now.”

“Which is?”

“Well, this damn resolution. They’re really taking it and running. Had it not been for them, I wouldn’t have come over to talk to you.”

I raise a brow. “Really?”

“I knew right away I was going to be rejected.”

I have to admit, that hurts. I wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s just I never go up to guys. That’s why they wanted me to do it.”

I frown at her, my eyes resting on her full, creamy cleavage for just long enough before they travel over the dainty planes of her collarbones, up her long neck and stopping at her stunning face. “I’m going to assume that guys are always coming up to ye.”

She blushes crimson and I notice it flush on her chest. “No. They don’t.”

“Then they’re intimidated.”

She shakes her head. “I’m just not…”

“Not what?” I ask, leaning in slightly. “You have to know how beautiful you are.”

Somehow her skin goes an even deeper shade of red. She’s flustered and her mouth opens and closes, trying to find some way out of the compliment.

“It’s true,” I go on. “I don’t bullshit and I don’t mince my words. I rarely see someone like you, and more than that, rarely want to spend time with them either. But here I am. And here you are.”

“And what do we have here?”

Another voice infiltrates our cozy little scene and I tear my eyes away from Valerie to assess the intruder. It’s her other sister, the one who was on the phone.

She looks a little more different than the others. She’s taller with an athletic physique, her hair brown and shoulder-length, her outfit all black and no-nonsense. I can tell she’s going to be the tough one. Mothers are often tough.

Her eyes are running over me and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Eventually she looks at Valerie, brows raised. “Did the guy come to his senses?”

While Valerie looks like she wants to die at that comment, I can’t help but smirk. She pulls no punches. I admire that. “I did, actually,” I tell her, getting off the stool and offering my hand. “I’m Padraig.”

“Angie,” she says, her handshake very firm. “Nice to see you up close and not all this.” She gestures to the line between my brows and mimics a frowning face.

“How is Tabitha?” Valerie asks, trying to switch the subject away from her sister’s miming.

It seems to do the trick, and I assume that Tabitha is her daughter because Angie’s face immediately softens. In fact, every part of her becomes a puddle. “She’s good. It’s still pretty early at home so she was tired and a bit cranky. She said she misses me and I think that pissed Mom off.”

“What doesn’t piss her off?” Valerie says.

I have a feeling this conversation is about to leer into personal territory that I have no business being a part of, so I prepare to say my goodbyes. I probably should go home before midnight anyway. I know the minute I step away from her I’ll be back to being in a mood and that’s a mood that shouldn’t be around anyone, especially when alcohol is involved.