Love & Luck(60)

He grinned, bouncing off the bed. “Rock of Cashel. I can’t believe the concert is tonight.”

“I can’t believe Lina will be here tonight.” I was still nervous, but now that the tension had eased between Ian and me, telling Lina suddenly felt much more doable.

Rowan lifted his phone. “Connor says we can pick up the car after ten. Anyone want to stop for breakfast first?”

“Me,” Ian and I said in unison.

Miriam had left bright and early to drive to Dublin for a meeting, so after saying good-bye to the staff, we rolled our suitcases down to Main Street, stopping at a cobalt-blue coffee shop with BERTIE’S: FREE TEA WITH EVERY ORDER spelled out across the window in gold stick-on letters. Inside, a small bell jingled overhead, and we ordered eggs and toast from a woman standing behind the counter.

I wanted to watch the ocean for as long as possible, so while we waited for our toast and eggs, I chose a table near the window, wrapping my hands around my hot mug of mint tea.

Outside, tourists streamed past us on the sidewalk, and I watched them absentmindedly, spooning sugar into my cup and tuning out Rowan and Ian’s conversation to think about Lina. I hadn’t seen her in more than three months. What was tonight going to be like? Would we just pick up where we left off? Would we have to get used to each other again?

Our server had just set our plates in front of us when suddenly one of the passersby snapped me out of my peppermint-infused daze. He was tall with wide shoulders, a massive pair of headphones, and an undeniable swagger that reminded me of . . .

“Walter!” I squeaked. He glanced in the window and stopped dead, his gaze on Ian.

“NO.” Ian dropped his spoon into his mug, sending hot water splattering. My instinct was to dive under the booth, but Walter’s glare traveled from Ian straight down to me, and suddenly we were making eye contact. Furious eye contact.

“Is this seriously happening again?” Rowan groaned. “This island is way too small.”

“Who is he?” our server asked, holding a pitcher of water in her hand. Walter pressed his face to the window, his breath steaming up the glass. “Is he dangerous?”

“Moderately,” I muttered, jumping to my feet.

Walter pushed his headphones off and marched for the door, his lips already moving in an angry diatribe that we were privileged to be a part of the second he opened the door. “—two are the worst!” he yelled. “Here I am doing my best to forget that Addie appeared out of nowhere at Blarney Castle, and now you’re here EATING BREAKFAST.” ?He roared “eating breakfast” like it was at the top of a list of offenses people could commit against him. Secrets did not look good on Walt.

“Sir. Calm down,” the server ordered, wielding her serving tray like a shield. “Can I interest you in a nice cup of tea? Maybe one of our soothing flavors? Chamomile? Lemon lavender? It’s on the house.”

“He’s not a big tea drinker, but thanks,” I said politely.

“Walt, stay calm,” Ian commanded, edging away from the window. “Where’s Mom?”

Walt yanked his headphones away from around his neck. “What are you even doing here?”

I gestured to Ian. “Rowan and I told you back at Blarney Castle. We’re working on Ian’s paper.”

He shook his head disgustedly. “BS. I talked to Archie about it, and he thought it sounded made-up too. You don’t need to go to a foreign country to do research for an admissions essay. Which makes you a liar,” he said, thrusting his finger at Rowan. “Do you even wear John Varvatos cologne?” Rowan grimaced slightly but said nothing.

“You told Archie?” Ian demanded, bouncing to his feet. His map was on the table, and he quickly shuffled it aside.

Walter scowled. “Of course I did. I had to tell someone.”

I shot a nervous look out the window. He hadn’t answered Ian’s question. “Where’s Mom?” I repeated.

“At the cathedral. I talked her into letting me skip it.”

The cathedral was only two blocks away. How close had we come to running into them?

Walt lasered in on Ian. “Now, for the last time, what are you doing in Ireland?” The server cowered at his tone, and I gazed longingly at my plate of fluffy eggs. Breakfast was not going to happen. And Walt wasn’t going to believe any more of our lies. Time to come clean.

“Ian, just tell him.” I sighed.

Ian grabbed a wad of napkins and mopped up the splattered tea. “We’re going to a music festival called Electric Picnic to see my favorite band, Titletrack, do their final show. I had it planned all along. Addie intercepted me on the way out, so that’s why she’s here too.”

Walt’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling. “I knew it! I knew you were lying. So that makes international mentor here—”

“Ian’s friend,” Rowan piped up. “And fellow Titletrack fan. And I actually do wear John Varvatos. The Artisan Acqua scent is my favorite.” Walt eyed him critically. He had to quit taking his scents so seriously.

Ian started again. “Walt, this is the plan. After the festival, we’re going to meet you in Dublin to fly—”

“Just stop!” Walter threw his arms up and backed quickly toward the door. “Don’t tell me any more. Just be safe and stop running into us.”