Barefoot on a Starlit Night

by Jo McNally

  “So, have you picked a date, dear?”

  This was the moment of truth. This was her opportunity to say there was no date because there was no engagement. She swallowed and looked Nana straight in the eye, McKinnon-style. This family had never tolerated bullshit. Nana would expect nothing less than honesty, and that’s what Bridget would give her. And yet, she hesitated. Which gave Mary a chance to jump in, telling Nana “they” were talking about a late fall wedding date.

  Mary suggested the engagement party could be held during the St. Patrick’s party at the pub. Nana was nodding in agreement, and the room filled with her family’s voices again as they debated other options. But now, instead of the tension and dread that hung over the room when Nana stumbled a few minutes ago, the voices were full of laughter and excitement. This kitchen hadn’t had this much joyful energy in it since Nana’s diagnosis. And it was all because of Bridget’s totally fake engagement to Finn. She had to tell them it was all a lie. Or that they broke up. Or...something. She had to stop this freight train that felt like it had already left the station without her.

  But if she did that, the excitement would be gone. That sparkle in Nana’s eyes, even after falling in front of everyone—something that would normally horrify the woman—would be gone. They’d all go back to arguing over the pub and debating who would take Nana to her next appointment. This new energy that had filled the room and lifted her family would vanish. She looked at Nana, and her grandmother winked back at her playfully.

  Her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Finn.

  Got a meeting with Greer at one. I’ll come clean about everything.

  She tapped the keyboard quickly.

  Don’t.

  Bubbles floated there, then stopped, then floated again.

  Don’t what?

  Now she knew what he’d meant when he said the story spun out of control with Greer. He said it got away from him. She thought that was nonsense, but she was watching it happen right here in front of her. Sure, she could tell her family the truth, but to what end? Would it be so bad to give her grandmother something joyful to think about while she was dealing with chemo and surgery and neuropathy and whatever else her disease and its treatments might bring?

  Bridget closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath. She couldn’t believe what she was considering. But after the initial pandemonium wore off, and before any real money was spent or dates were set, she and Finn could announce a breakup. Finn would protect his visa. Maura McKinnon would have had something to look forward to during chemo. It was wrong to lie, of course. But who were they really hurting?

  She looked back at her phone and typed her reply to Finn.

  Don’t say anything until we talk first.

  His answer was swift.

  Tonight? I’m working the bar with Luke and can help you close.

  She typed a quick agreement, smiling in amazement at what they were doing.

  “Oh my God, how cute is our little Bridget?” Kelly cried. “Are you texting Finn right now? Look at that smile. You are, aren’t you? You and your fiancé are texting sweet nothings...”

  Mary reached for the phone, but Bridget locked the screen before putting it in her pocket with a laugh.

  “Yes, if you must know, I was texting Finn. And now you know why we kept it a secret. You guys are insufferable!”

  There had to be a reason why it was so easy to keep the lie going. It was almost as if she was having an out-of-body experience, looking down at some other Bridget spinning the story. Was she telling it only for her grandmother’s sake? Or was she trying to fit in with her cousins, who were—or had been—married while she was alone? What it would it be like to be engaged to Finn, with his soft, serious eyes and all those books? Who knew a bookish professor could kiss a woman like he’d kissed her last night? Her lips tingled from the memory of it. But, good kisser or not, he was still the one who got them both into this complicated web of deceit.

  * * *

  FINN DID HIS best to avoid Bridget’s family at the pub that night. But it wasn’t easy when they, and practically everyone else, wanted to clap him on the back and congratulate him. His face hurt from forcing a smile on it for so many hours as he poured drafts and mixed the occasional cocktail. Fortunately, the Shamrock didn’t have a complicated drink menu, and Luke had taught him all the basics.

  Bridget had been in avoidance mode, too. She’d only come out into the pub a couple of times, and was quickly swamped with well-wishers each time. She’d been a good sport, but had escaped as quickly as possible without even looking his way. That didn’t bode well for the talk she wanted to have later.

  Her text just said don’t. Was that don’t tell him today or don’t tell him ever? Her last spoken words to him were to move out, and her text hadn’t retracted that order. He had no idea if he was homeless or engaged.

  The Shamrock was noisy with a bunch of women in their thirties and forties, dancing to some Whitesnake cover band out of Rochester. Luke Rutledge came up beside him and started a Guinness pour.

  “Are you sure you want to bartend here? Nights like tonight are nuts.” He squinted at the pint glass, apparently satisfied with the domed head of creamy foam on it. He slid it in Finn’s direction. “That one’s for you, pal. There are a hell of a lot of single women around. And a few not-single ones.” Luke nodded toward a table of women laughing in the corner. “The one drinking seltzer water is my pregnant wife, Whitney. The others are her pals—Piper, Chantese, Kareema, and Evie from the diner. I swear if I hear ‘Here I Go Again’ played one more time, I’m going to lose my mind. Wait—you’re not a closet Whitesnake fan, are you?”

  “You’re safe, mate. I appreciate classic rock as much as anyone, but they’re not at the top of my list.” Finn took a sip of the dark brew. “And I’m not in the market for a woman.” Luke’s brows went high. “Oh, yeah, I heard something about you two. Whitney told me she heard you were getting married, but I told her there was no way...” He looked at Finn’s carefully blank face. “Oh, shit. You’re...really?”

  “Ask me tomorrow. She wants to talk later, and you know that might not be good...”

  If Bridget was ending everything, as he expected she would, he didn’t want to reinforce their ruse to anyone.

  “Ouch.” Luke grimaced. “Nothing strikes fear in a man’s heart like his woman needing to talk about something. My advice? Apologize before she even gets to tell you what you did. Just say you’re sorry and offer to take her to dinner. Apologize and deflect, man.”

  Finn chuckled, taking his beer with him as he headed to the kitchen. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  Luke had no idea how much Finn had to apologize for. Or how small his chances were to deflect her from what he’d done to their lives.

  Bridget was scrubbing the grill. The surface was hot, and her face shone with sweat as she moved the scrubbing pad back and forth. The sleeves of her shirt were pushed up, and her hair was pulled back into a messy twist. She tossed the scrubber aside and picked up the metal scraper, removing the loosened grease and char from the grill and into the catch tray. The lean, hard muscles in her arms and shoulders flexed as she worked. She was in the zone, and hadn’t even noticed him enter. The sink was piled with pans, so Finn headed over and started filling it with soapy water.

  The sound of the faucet made her turn in surprise. “Oh...hi! I thought you were avoiding me.” She blew a loose strand of hair from her face with a puff of breath. “I was going to do those...but yeah, go ahead and get started.” She grinned. “After all, you did say you owed me, right?”

  He gave her a quick salute, and a spray of soap bubbles flew off his fingers. She laughed, but now that she was facing him, he could see how tired she was. “Busy night, eh?”

  “Long day and a busy night. I didn’t realize how many women this band would draw. And they wanted to nibble on appetizers all night long, s
o I’ve been crazed. Jimmy and Marta were here for dinners, but they left around nine.” She wiped her arm across her forehead. “I’m dead on my feet.”

  “Scrubbing a few pans is the least I can do.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “No argument here.” She arched a brow at him and turned back to the grill. There were a few moments of silence between them as they settled into their tasks. It felt safer somehow when they had their backs to each other like this. But they had to talk. Finn started.

  “Why did you text me to wait earlier?”

  She hesitated. “You and I need to stay on the same page and keep our stories straight. I mean, we need to end this fiasco, but let’s not spring any more surprises on each other.”

  They still weren’t facing each other, so he spoke to the large commercial sink. “I know I’ve said this already, but I’m so sorry. Let’s just tell folks we broke up, yeah?”

  “But what will Greer say about your visa and stuff?”

  He scrubbed hard at a bit of burnt on residue on a pan.

  “I’ll deal with it. Goin’ home t’ Ireland isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me. It’s not like I hate it there.” But going home felt like a huge step backward.

  “Then why are you here?”

  He shook his head. “I met my ex here, and she was American. And...I like the place. There’s a lot of opportunity here. But I need to get you and me out of this mess I created before it gets any stickier.”

  She didn’t answer. She just moved on to cleaning and organizing the refrigerators and freezers. He kept washing and drying. The band stopped playing...finally. Luke stepped into the kitchen to say good night. He looked back and forth at the distance between Finn and Bridget and his forehead wrinkled as he looked at Finn in question. Finn just shrugged in response. He had no clue where this was going.

  Instead of finishing the conversation, Bridget started turning off lights and locking up the place in silence. He followed suit, putting the last of the utensils away and making sure the fryer was off. They went out the back and walked quietly to the house. As he locked the house door behind them, she watched with furrowed brows.

  “I’m not saying I want to keep up this act, but...” She looked around the hall, twisting her hands together. “But let me tell my grandmother first, before you tell Greer, okay? She deserves that much.” She shook her head. “She’s pissed that she heard it from Vickie, and Vickie and Greer are a thing these days, and since Greer can’t...”

  Finn sighed. “Can’t keep his mouth shut?”

  “Apparently not.” She finally met his gaze. “Let me get Nana settled. Maybe I’ll tell her we broke up. No one to blame, we moved too fast, blah blah blah. Then you can tell Greer.” She looked resigned to this, and Finn set his troubles aside. He had to support her. But there was one thing in her plan that surprised him.

  “You said you couldn’t lie to Maura. But you’re going to tell her we broke up? Isn’t that...?”

  Anger flashed in her eyes now. “Yeah, I know what I said. But I’ve already lied to her, Finn. And I don’t think she needs to know that, okay? I don’t think she needs to be any more disappointed than she already will be.” She crossed her arms tightly. “You’ve put me in an impossible situation. Maybe I’ll break down and tell her the sordid truth, but I just don’t know if I can do that. If not, the breakup story will work. That’s why I want to do it before you tell Greer.” She turned away and headed up the stairs. “I don’t trust myself to tell the whole story, so let me figure that out before you make a move. Same page, remember?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, climbing the stairs to her apartment in angry, hurt silence. Finn stood there at the base of the staircase for a while, berating himself for selfishly bringing pain to the McKinnons. And fighting the urge to go upstairs and comfort her. In his arms. As if she’d ever want to be there now.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EVIE ROSARIO HUDSON slid into a booth at the Spot Diner, squeezing Whitney Rutledge closer to the wall across from Bridget and Kareema. Evie stared hard at Bridget, and Bridget realized just how challenging this fake engagement would be to maintain long-term. As soon as she talked to Nana later that afternoon, it would be over, one way or the other. But until then, she needed to act her socks off.

  “So let me get this straight,” Evie said. “You met this guy a month or two ago—the timeline’s a little fuzzy—and you...” Evie waved her hand up and down at Bridget. “The woman who hasn’t been on a date that I know of since you moved back here two years ago, just...fell in love. And got engaged. Just like that. And didn’t tell anyone.”

  Evie was just as much a straight-talker as Bridget was. She and her mom had owned The Spot, a popular breakfast and lunch place on Main Street, for years. Momma Rosario was wiping down the counter now and stacking clean coffee cups. Business had slowed now that lunch was winding down, and the diner would close in an hour.

  Bridget looked from Evie to Whitney to Kareema at her side. Her three closest friends in Rendezvous Falls and, for now, she had no choice but to lie to them.

  “That’s right.” She cleared her throat and pushed on. “When you know, you know. I mean, you and Mark didn’t waste any time once he came home.”

  Evie and Mark Hudson had been high school sweethearts until he’d abruptly left town after graduation. Evie swore she hated the guy until he moved back and declared he wanted her back. She didn’t exactly make it easy for him, but they’d become engaged in a matter of weeks. But Evie wasn’t buying the comparison.

  “Mark and I have known each other since grade school, Bridg. We weren’t strangers. He wasn’t from another damn country.”

  Bridget turned to Whitney. “What about you and Luke? That was fast, wasn’t it?”

  Whitney pursed her lips, probably evaluating dates and measuring them against Bridget’s. The woman was a human calculator, and was now running a successful accounting business here. The Purple Shamrock had been one of her first clients. She finally looked up from her decaf coffee.

  “We were strangers, but I don’t know. I mean...we met in June and didn’t officially get engaged until October.” She took as sip of coffee. “This Finn guy still popped the question faster than Luke did. And let’s not forget, none of us even knew you were seeing someone.”

  “To be fair,” Evie laughed at Whitney, “you and Luke hated each other those first couple of months.”

  Whitney patted her barely swollen stomach. “Yeah, but we fixed that.”

  “Hey, how is Luke’s brother doing?” Bridget asked. “I haven’t seen Zayne in a while.”

  “He’s doing great these days. I mean, he’s still a bit of a hermit, but his businesses are doing well. He’s like a new man. He and Luke have been seeing a lot more of each other these days.” She tipped her head to the side. “You graduated with Zayne, right?”

  “Yeah. We were good friends in school. After he had the accident, we stayed friends, but you know Zayne—he only shows up when he wants to.”

  Kareema leveled a pointed look at her. “That’s something you two have in common, right?”

  “Oh, ha-ha.” Bridget knew Kareema was jabbing her again for not returning calls. Then Kareema grabbed Bridget’s left hand.

  “And why are you not wearing a ring?” Damn it, she and Finn needed to figure out a ring story. Then again, they were about to “break up,” so it probably didn’t matter. Kareema held Bridget’s hand up high, shaking it at the other women. “Since when do people get engaged with no ring?”

  “It was impulsive, okay?” She yanked her hand away. “He popped the question before he bought a ring. Ring or no ring, we’re engaged.”

  Evie finished her root beer float, which was the drink the Spot was famous for. Evie always sported a bright streak of color in her dark hair, and this week it was fluorescent red, probably left over from Valentine’s Day. She’d been staring
at Bridget nonstop since she sat down.

  “This makes zero sense, Bridget. I mean, I know you’ve been stressed with your grandmother and all, but engaged? And you didn’t tell any of us. I had to hear it through gossip at the diner. Are you sure it’s not some, I don’t know, distraction mechanism or something? None of us even know the guy. Are you sure he’s not taking advantage of you?”

  And just like that, Bridget was annoyed. Why couldn’t she have fallen in love overnight?

  “Can you guys give me at least a little credit for knowing what I’m doing? And maybe a congratulations or two? Not one of you has even said you’re happy for me yet!”

  Evie’s mom, Evelyn, called over from behind the counter. “She’s right, you know. All three of you have been grillin’ her and not one of you has asked about her fiancé!”

  Her friends looked appropriately chagrined. Kareema gave her a gentle shoulder bump.

  “Sorry, girl. We’re just worried, you know? We care about you. And I don’t get the secrecy, but whatever. If you say you’re in love with this Irish dude, that’s all we need to know. More than any of us, you protect your heart the hardest, so if some history professor has managed to win it, we already love him.”

  Whitney raised her empty cup. “And we admire him for bravery. He captured the fierce heart of our Bridget.”

  Evie chuckled, but doubt still clouded her eyes. “Of course, if you love him, we love him. I’ve actually seen him in here a few times, and he is hawt. He was nice, too, if a bit quiet. Always has a book with him.”

  Bridget smiled to herself. Her nerdy, bookish recluse. Well, not really hers, but hers for now. Make-believe hers.

  “Wow,” Evie said, smiling for real this time. “If I had any doubts, that smile just took care of them. You are in love!”