Finding Our Hearts

by Grace Roberts

  His grin was back in no time. “Neither do I,” he said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “Besides, I’d be glad to have lunch with someone under fifty, for a change. The other professors are great but, well, we don’t have many conversation topics in common, so it always turns into a work lunch.” His face wrinkled as if he’d smelled something foul, and I couldn’t help smiling. He looked like a cute child. “Booooring.”

  He was the first man in so long who actually saw me, and just the thought of sitting across the table from him was causing my heart to beat at double speed and my body heat to spike up. I could only hope my cheeks wouldn’t give me away.

  I stood up and fumbled with some papers on the desk, pretending to look professional and totally unaffected by his invitation. I rounded the desk, picked up my handbag from the coat stand and followed him out of the office feeling like a silly girl on her first date.

  Chapter 6

  David

  I wasn’t sure why I felt something gnawing at my brain after I invited Claire for lunch, but I did my best to ignore it. She was new here, and I was simply being welcoming to a new colleague—there was nothing wrong with it. So what if she had sexy red hair I hadn’t stopped thinking about since I’d first met her? It wasn’t as if I were cheating on my girlfriend by saying she had nice hair—okay, sexy hair. Whatever.

  We walked in awkward silence for a couple of minutes until we were out of the building into a sunny, even though a little cool, day. As I breathed fresh air into my lungs, my brain started working properly again, and I regained my confidence to speak without saying something stupid like “I love your hair. Can I touch it?”—which was exactly what I’d been thinking the entire time we’d walked side by side.

  “So, I was gonna head over to the café in the School of Economics building. They make the best sandwiches. Have you been there before?”

  I turned to look at her and had to stick my hand deep in the pocket on my pants, because I’d almost reached out to tuck a gorgeous ginger curl behind her ear. Not appropriate at all. Her hair was driving me crazy.

  She nodded and looked up from her shoes to me. With the sun shining on her face, her brown eyes had turned a warm shade of caramel. Wow. My throat went dry and all ability to speak left my brain. What the hell was this girl doing to me? I’d never felt like this before, not even when I’d first met Michelle. Not once in my entire life.

  Now I wasn’t so sure that asking her to lunch had been a smart, and most importantly, platonic move at all. I tried to visualize Michelle’s face, her body, anything that would take my mind back to where it belonged, but all I could see were those curls, calling to me like a siren’s song. I could almost hear the chanting in my head. “Go ahead, touch us; you know you want to run your fingers through us. Reach out and just do it.”

  Right. I was officially crazy.

  “Um, how long ago were you a student here?” I tried using small talk to shut that voice in my head up, and break the silence she didn’t seem to want to fill. “You can’t be much younger than me, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around when I was a student here myself.” I stopped myself just before adding “I would’ve remembered that gorgeous hair of yours.” Ugh, why wasn’t I into brunettes instead? It would’ve been so much easier to have a normal conversation with her.

  “I’m turning twenty-four in a month. I graduated almost two years ago, but I wasn’t a party girl, so I doubt you’d have seen me anywhere but at the campus library or in the park with my nose stuck in a book.” She shrugged.

  No, she definitely didn’t look like a party girl. Not today, dressed in a pair of smart, dark gray pants and a short-sleeved blouse, with a dress jacket on top, and not even that night at the pub, dressed casually in a pair of tight jeans and a top that accentuated her lean figure. Not like Michelle, who always dressed up to the nines whenever we hit the town. Which, I reminded myself, was something I liked about her. Or I used to, anyway. Ugh!

  “Makes sense, then. I wasn’t a party animal myself, but I rarely went into the library.” I grimaced, and she frowned. “The librarian was a little grumpy and awfully strict, so I tried to stay away if I could.”

  She smiled, and nodded. “She was, wasn’t she? But even so, I couldn’t help myself. I love books, and I especially love the smell of libraries. When I went to the Trinity College Library in Dublin, I was close to having an attack of Stendhal syndrome.”

  I chuckled. “So you’re a nerd.”

  Well, she looked way more attractive than about the stereotypical nerd. No big, thick glasses, no teeth braces, and no black clothes or piercings—no, wait, these last two would describe a Goth, not a nerd. Well, whatever. I liked her. Even though she didn’t wear skimpy clothes and heavy makeup, she was sexy all the same.

  I cringed at my thoughts. Stop right there, O’Hagan.

  “I guess I am. While girls my age dreamed of becoming the next Rose of Tralee, I dreamed about being a librarian one day.” She shrugged, looking a little self-conscious as she fidgeted with the belt of her tan leather bag.

  “A librarian, huh? Well, I sure hope you won’t turn into an evil old lady like Mrs. Whateverhernameis.”

  She laughed and the sound caused something to flutter in my chest. I cleared my throat to send it away. “So what did you study?”

  “English. My goal was to eventually get a Masters in Literature and Publishing, so I could work in the publishing world.” She stopped and bit her bottom lip, as if she’d said too much.

  We waited for a car to pass us by, and she all but ran across the street to get inside the building where the café was. I wondered why she’d been so afraid to say it. With Kathy always saying she’d be a writer one day, ever since she was a little girl, I’d grown used to considering writing as a normal profession. I actually envied the imagination and creativity my sister possessed. I’d always been the scientist in the family, while it seemed that my other three siblings had all inherited the creative DNA, with Declan being a journalist and Maggie studying the history of art.

  Claire’s words had intrigued me, and there was no way I’d let her off the hook now. I wanted to know why she’d decided to choose that specific MA, if she had a favorite book genre, if she’d ever tried to write anything and what her dream career was—I was going to get a kick out of grilling her.

  We ordered our sandwiches, grabbed our bottled waters and sat at a table in the corner. She’d gone all quiet, but I’d never had a problem starting a conversation, so after I swallowed the first bite of my chicken and coleslaw sandwich, I stared at her for a moment until she sensed my gaze and looked up.

  “So you wanted to be an editor, or rather write an actual book yourself?”

  She blushed, making the lovely freckles on the bridge of her nose stand out even more, and looked away. She chewed slowly, no doubt trying to delay her reply.

  “My sister’s a writer. In fact, she’s just about to publish her first book,” I said, hoping this would help her open up a little. I didn’t know why it mattered so much that she would, but I desperately wanted to know what made her tick.

  She swallowed, unscrewed the cap of her bottle and took a long gulp. I could almost see the wheels in her head turning, as the meaning of my words sank in.

  “I’ve always had a penchant for mystery novels. Before I finished high school, I’d read all of Agatha Christie’s and Edgar Allan Poe’s novels.”

  I smiled. With two sisters who loved reading romance, it was weird to hear a girl talking about books that didn’t involve handsome princes who swept girls off their feet. I was starting to like her a little more.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to actually turn my love for books into a career, but then I saw the masters and thought I’d found a way to make my dream come true.” She fidgeted with a leaf of lettuce on her plate, and I took another bite of my sandwich, waiting for her to carry on.

  “Anyway, after I got my BA, I had an emergency at home so I had to go back a
nd I never applied for it.” Her tone had suddenly turned sad, and my heart broke just a little for her. Whatever had happened must have been something pretty serious. And painful, from the way her eyes had lost their gleam.

  “Where’s home?” I asked, wondering if a change of subject might help.

  “Well, now’s Galway, as you may have guessed, but it used to be Kerry.”

  Apparently, whatever emergency she’d had hadn’t turned out well. Not a good topic for conversation, then. I tried another approach.

  “Whereabouts? My grandmother was from Kerry.”

  She looked up from her plate and timidly said, “Tralee.”

  That was my cue for a stupid remark that would surely make her smile. I knew how to be an annoying idiot if I wanted, and this situation definitely required a little goofiness.

  “Oooh, so you’re a Rose. Niiice.”

  She rolled her eyes at my clichéd comment related to the famous beauty pageant, but smiled nevertheless. There, I’d achieved what I wanted. Any trace of sadness had left her pretty face, and she looked at ease again.

  “Please, don’t start. I’ve heard every possible comment in my life, so whatever you’ll say will be nothing new.”

  “Fair enough.” I grinned and raised my palms in a peace gesture. Then I leaned in closer to her and whispered, “But tell me one thing: have you ever wanted to be one?”

  She shook her head and pointed her thumb toward herself. “Nerd, remember?”

  “Aw, come on. I have two sisters, and they both wanted to be Roses when they were little. I can’t believe you lived in Tralee and never wanted to be one.” I smiled, remembering when Kathy and Maggie used to wobble around their bedroom in our mother’s shoes, wearing her dresses and pretending to be the Galway Roses.

  “I used to go to the parade when I was little, and loved seeing those beautiful girls with their tiaras and all, but I’ve never liked being in the spotlight.”

  No, I bet she never did. And I was pretty sure she didn’t now either. Before I could retort, she checked her watch and her eyes went wide.

  “Shoot, it’s late. I have to be at my desk in five minutes.” She gobbled the remaining bit of her sandwich, not in a very lady-like fashion, and I smiled. She was genuinely cute, and in a way she reminded me a little of my sisters.

  Light-bulb moment.

  That must be the reason why I liked her! My brotherly instinct had made me want to look after her, as if she were a stray puppy. That, together with things being strained between Michelle and me, had made me think I was attracted to her even though I wasn’t. I smiled inwardly and gave myself an imaginary pat on the back for understanding the real reason behind all this—whatever this between us was.

  I was so engrossed in my own congratulatory speech that I hadn’t noticed she’d already stood up and was ready to leave. I grabbed my bottle of water and popped the last chunk of my sandwich into my mouth.

  “Thanks for hanging out with me,” she said with a sweet smile when we reached the engineering building. Yes, she could be like an adoptive little sister—considering she was the same age as Kathy, it was very close to reality. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wednesday,” I said, still chewing. I swallowed and clapped my chest when I nearly choked on some crumbs. “Don’t have classes tomorrow.”

  She nodded. Wait, did she look disappointed?

  “Okay. Well, see ya. I need to dash now.”

  With one last smile, she spun and disappeared inside the building, leaving me staring at her curls bouncing like springs with every step she took.

  Unsure what to do with my time, I strolled around the university grounds for a while, thinking about what I could do next. If I went home, I’d probably end up getting in a sibling fight with Maggie, who was surely already sprawled on the couch watching one of the reality shows she loved, and would toss a slipper at me if I dared interrupt her. Lately she’d developed an obsession for a show where the groom was given a certain amount of money to organize his wedding down to the smallest detail. She claimed it was because she was Kathy’s maid of honor so she needed hints on how to make her wedding perfect, but I knew it was because she too dreamed of a white wedding and still cried whenever she watched a movie with a ceremony in it. Not that she’d ever admit it, but I’d come to know my little sister pretty well.

  At times like this, I hated not having a place of my own. If Declan hadn’t died, I’d be in New York by now, probably sharing an apartment with him and Kathy. After I’d finished university, my goal had been to move to New York with my brother, so I’d stayed at home with my parents, needing to save as much money as possible for when I’d leave Ireland.

  Once my one reason for leaving the country got buried under a mound of earth, I’d realized I’d need to find an apartment somewhere in town and adjust to the fact that my life would have to be in Galway, at least for the time being. A few weeks after the funeral I’d broached the subject of moving out, and I’d noticed the way my parents’ faces had fallen. After Declan died, my mother had clung to me and enjoyed spoiling me as if I were still her little boy, while my father used every excuse to include me in some manly activity, probably to get away from the way too high level of estrogen in the house.

  Even though I knew they realized I was old enough to live on my own, they still needed me around, at least until we all got our heads together, and I’d felt the pressure of being the only son and the eldest sibling. Then I’d met Michelle, and since she had her own place I’d never really cared too much about still living at home at twenty-six, although she reckoned it was high time I left my parents’ to live my life. Obviously, she couldn’t understand my reasons for staying at home. Having me around made my parents happy, and in spite of our bickering, I knew Maggie didn’t want to be the only child left in the house.

  Maybe, once Kathy got married and all the fuss about the wedding had faded, I’d be able to tell my parents I wanted to move out. I’d start looking for a bachelor pad somewhere in the neighborhood so I’d never be too far away from them in case they needed me, and we’d all be happy.

  I pulled out my phone, checked for missed calls or messages from Michelle, but there weren’t any, which sort of disappointed me a little. Even so, I checked the time and reckoned she must be on her lunch break, so I pressed speed dial and waited for her to pick up. After spending time with Claire, I needed my girlfriend to remind me why I should endeavor to make our relationship work. Hearing her voice would surely help with that.

  She picked up after a good few rings, and I hoped she wasn’t in some kind of meeting. She hated it when I called while she was at work.

  “David.” Her greeting deflated me. Not that I expected her to jump with joy—after all, we’d seen each other just yesterday—but I wouldn’t have minded if she’d sounded a little more excited to take my call. “I’m in the middle of a lunch meeting, can I call you back?”

  There, her job again. Why did I have to end up dating a workaholic? I wondered if she was having lunch with that colleague she’d kissed a couple of months ago. She’d said he’d been the one to kiss her and she hadn’t kissed him back, but it still bothered me to know they saw each other every day. He probably got to spend more time with her than I did.

  “Um, sure, no worries. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  She chuckled. “You saw me yesterday, David. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet. How much differently could I feel from last night?”

  All my good spirits dropped to my toes, as her words deflated my ego just a little bit more than her greeting had. When we’d first started dating, she’d been all loving and almost suffocating at times, adding smiley faces, little hearts and xoxo whenever she sent me a text—which was way more often than I’d ever been used to, and definitely more often than she did now. Okay, I knew that every relationship was always more exciting at the beginning, but after she’d started working for O’Shea Finance early this year, she’d turned from a loving girlfriend int
o an I-don’t-have-time-for-you-unless-you-have-an-appointment one. Sometimes I wished she’d see how much this annoyed me.

  “Yeah, you’re right; stupid question. Sorry I interrupted your lunch. Talk to ya later.”

  Without even waiting for her to say something, I hung up. She hated when I did it, and I knew this was most probably going to lead to a discussion later on, once she left the office and finally had a few minutes to spare for me.

  Maggie or not, I wasn’t in the mood for hanging around like an idiot. I went to pick up my car, and headed home. A game of Call Of Duty would probably help me ease the tension, and keep my thoughts off women for a while.

  Chapter 7

  Claire

  “So how was your first day?” Ciara asked the moment I stepped into the living room where she was watching her favorite soap opera. Robbie sat in his plush basket by the hearth, taking a nap. I plopped into the armchair next to the fireplace and tucked my legs underneath me. Ciara offered me the bowl of chips she was eating as her usual appetizer, and I grabbed a handful.

  “It was okay.” I shrugged and popped a chip into my mouth. Ciara raised an eyebrow. “There was a young lecturer who was really nice and welcoming. We had lunch together, and he told me everything I needed to know about everyone in the department. Then the senior assistant found out, and she told me I’m not allowed to socialize with the male staff in the department if I don’t want to get fired.” I cringed, remembering the not-very-pleasant conversation I’d had with Bossy Susan after I’d returned from my lunch with David.

  “Pftt,” Ciara said, before popping a handful of chips into her mouth. I smiled.

  “I know… I mean, he was quite charming and everything, but I wouldn’t be so stupid as to make a move on someone I work with, especially on my first day.”

  Ciara gave me a devilish grin. “Oh, so he was charming, huh?”