CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
RIDLEE
TODAY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE my day to sleep in, but no; of course that’s not going to happen. Erin’s up at six in the morning, so I should be too, according to her.
“No, I can’t call you back,” she whines. “I need answers now and I’m awake.”
I sit up in bed and scrub my face with my free hand, trying to get the blood pumping enough to wake me up. “Is this advice for the lovelorn or legal advice? Because I’m not sure I’m awake enough for the legal kind.”
“Both. Go make yourself some coffee. This is serious business.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching in an effort to get the cramp out of my middle back. Seven hours of sleep isn’t enough to work out the kinks that come from hunching over a desk for three weeks straight, fourteen hours a day. “When is it not serious business with you, Erin?”
“True. I do live a very important life. Come on, then, chop chop. I don’t have all morning.”
I shuffle into the kitchen, throwing a tiny pot of ground coffee beans into my machine and pressing the button next to the waiting cup. “Okay, I’m awake. Start talking.”
Her voice drops down a few notches, giving me the impression that she’s hiding this conversation from someone.
“Okay, so I took your advice and showed Michaél the town yesterday.”
“Hmmm, is that why I didn’t get any texts for a whole twelve hours?”
“Yes. Probably. And because I’m your only friend.”
I bite my cheek so I won’t laugh at her stupid joke. I have friends, just not the kind of friends I’d text with. That is a privilege reserved just for her. Not that there’s room on my cell phone’s screen or time in my life for anyone else to text me. Erin texts enough for ten people.
“And?” I prompt.
“Well, it was confusing for most of the day. I wasn’t sure how he felt about me, about us, about anything really…”
“You know now, I hope.” I take my first sip of coffee and wait for the caffeine to hit me. Something tells me I’m going to need it soon.
“Oh, yeah. I know now.” She starts to squeal like a little girl. “He loves me, Rid! He really does!”
“Of course he does,” I say, not impressed. “If he has a single brain cell in his head, he’ll hang onto you with kitty claws.”
Her tone goes suspicious. “What’s that mean?”
“It just means, Miss Paranoid, that you’re an amazing person and he’d be lucky to have you.” Another sip of coffee and I’m almost feeling human again.
“He said that last night. That and more.”
“All of it good?”
“Yes. All of it. And we uh … sealed the deal.” She giggles.
I’m talking to a girl who goes to high school now. “You had sex with him?”
“Yep. Totally.”
“You little slut. Good for you.” I take another sip of coffee, almost done now. Why do espressos have to be so tiny? “Okay, so he goes from bad guy stealing your bar one day to lover the next. Are you sure you’re okay with that?” My friend has a very tender heart, and I feel like I need to be the one talking sense right now. I’m afraid she’s too gaga over him to think straight.
“Yes. He’s been driving me mad for weeks and this was the best end to it all.”
“So that’s it, then? This is the end? When does he leave?”
“No, no, it’s not!” She’s back to being excited. “That’s the best news of all! He wants to stay. He knows he’s not getting any of the bar, but he wants to stay and work here with me. Live with me. See where this thing goes.”
I sigh, trying to figure out how to say this to her without sounding like a total killjoy.
“What? I know what that sigh means. Just tell me straight, don’t hold anything back.”
I slug back the rest of my coffee wincing as it burns all the way down. “Okay, fine. Here’s the deal. He can’t officially work there with you, for one. He’s on a special visa that only allows him to be a tourist or conduct business that doesn’t end up in him being paid. Second, he can’t stay any longer than his visa says he can. My guess is he was granted six months, but it could be as little as three. You have to look at what they gave him at the border.”
“This isn’t sounding very good.”
“Don’t get too upset. If there’s a will, there’s a way, right?” I pause and then shift into a softer mode. I have to tread lightly here. “But have you thought about his life in Ireland? I mean, what’s he going to do with his business? Is Siobhan going to be willing to run the thing entirely by herself for months and months? Does he want that? And what’s your end game here? Is he planning to immigrate here? Because the only way that’s happening is if he gets married to an American citizen.”
“I’m an American citizen,” Erin says, sounding hopeful.
“Yes, exactly. So are you guys planning on getting married?” Doubt flavors my tone, but I can’t help it. One night of sex and she’s ready to tie the knot? I don’t buy it. Not Erin. She’s way too tough for that.
“Well, no. We didn’t discuss that. He did say the L-word, though.”
“Oh. Well.” I’m surprised by that. I expected him to do more playing around with her heart before he opened up to that degree, based on his past behavior. “I guess that’s a good start.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, I can’t tell you what to do this time. It’s just as confusing to me as it is to you. The negative part of me says maybe he’s just messing with you as revenge or maybe he wants to marry you just to get a greencard and he really doesn’t care about you.”
“Ridlee! How could you say that? That man spent thousands of euros to get over here and be with me. He admitted as much, that the whole lawsuit thing was a ruse to be with me again.”
“But why didn’t he just come and be with you? Why make it about the bar at all?” I hate playing devil’s advocate when she so clearly has fallen for him, but someone has to do it.
Her voice comes out very weak. “I didn’t ask him that.”
“Maybe it’s time you guys had a very honest, very open conversation.”
“We did last night. About a lot of things.”
“But not about the things that need to be discussed. Do you have a pen? Because you need to write these things down.”
“Hold on a sec.” I hear shuffling and possibly even a piece of furniture falling over and a glass breaking before she’s back on the line. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“Do you have paper?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“Shit. No. Wait.”
I start another cup of coffee as I wait.
“Okay. I’m back. Pen and paper at the ready.”
“Number one: Why is he here using the bar as an excuse and not just here using you as an excuse? Number two…”
“Slow down!”
“No. Use shorthand. Number two: Who’s going to watch his shop? Number three:…” I pause because I can literally picture Erin right now, frowning as she scribbles, biting her tongue as it hangs out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.
I speak slower this time. “How long is his visa valid for, and does he know he can’t earn any money while he’s here? Does he have savings for living expenses, and if he uses that money, will his business in Ireland stay afloat?”
“This sounds like very personal information,” Erin says, sounding uneasy.
“Of course it’s personal information.” She’s making me kind of cranky. I definitely need more caffeine. My second cup is ready and I take a sip with lots of air, trying not to burn myself.