Barefoot on a Starlit Night

by Jo McNally

  “What?” She started to protest, then realized she couldn’t. Maybe she was a better actress than she’d thought, if she’d managed to convince her best friends that this thing with Finn was genuine. “Um...I mean...yeah, sure. Why else would I agree to marry the guy?” She swallowed hard, fixing her smile in place. “And just because we got engaged impulsively, that doesn’t mean we’re getting married tomorrow.” Or ever. “We haven’t even talked about a date or anything.”

  “That makes sense,” Kareema nodded. “Sorry we hassled you, but honestly, if you’d told us instead of keeping this big dark secret...”

  “I told you why we did that. We weren’t sure how my grandmother would take it.”

  Whitney laughed. “You weren’t sure how Irish-to-the-core Maura McKinnon would take you getting married to a real live Irishman?”

  “Well, it wasn’t as much that as wanting to keep her stress levels down. Too much excitement...”

  Kareema finished her coffee. “Your cousin Tim said Maura is over-the-moon happy about it.”

  Yeah, that was the problem.

  “It does explain why Bridget’s been so hard to get together with lately.” Whitney started to shrug on her heavy coat. “I thought you were mad at me or something. You haven’t returned my calls for a month, but I forgive you now that I know you’ve been shacking up with Finn. Luke really likes the guy, by the way. Like Evie said, he’s a hottie nerd.” She grinned. “The pub owner and the professor. It’s like you’re hot for teacher, Bridg. And speaking of Luke, he’s picking me up because he was all freaked out about me driving in the snow. This is going to be a long pregnancy if he keeps trying to wrap me in cotton balls to protect me.”

  The women headed their separate ways with hugs and laughter. Bridget was determined to talk to her grandmother today and tell her the truth. She’d finally made her mind up on that last night. She couldn’t stand the idea of lying to Nana. Maybe Nana would even have some advice for her on how to get out of this. Nana would probably laugh herself silly. Or box Bridget’s ears for being a complete idiot.

  But as she drove to Nana’s house later that afternoon, Bridget wasn’t as worried about telling Nana the truth as she was about her time with her friends just now. She couldn’t stop thinking about how they all agreed so quickly that she’d been out of touch for a while. Kareema had told her that a few weeks ago, but she hadn’t realized how many calls and texts she’d missed since Nana got sick. She kept telling herself she’d get back to her friends “later,” but later kept running longer than she’d planned. All the way to never. She’d been so focused on managing everything that she’d forgotten to take time for her friends, and that was her loss. Laughing with them, even though she was fibbing about the engagement, had felt good. Cathartic, even.

  And all because of a “hawt” Irish professor and his crazy scheme.

  * * *

  FINN STARED AT the images from the famous Book of Kells on his forty-four inch curved HD computer monitor. He’d been obsessed with the beautiful book from the moment he saw it at Trinity College in Dublin as a lad. The illuminated manuscript was fascinating. He’d always thought so. He had three pages side by side on the screen, trying to determine exactly when each bit of art had been added. Hand-painted over a thousand years ago, the artistry of the tiny little decorations meticulously added to each page was incredible, but some marks had been added as recently as the 1800s.

  He was at the desk in his new office space, his own books lining the shelves previously used by Bridget’s dad. He kept trying to focus on the images before him, but the manuscript just couldn’t hold his attention tonight. All he could think about Bridget McKinnon. He stared blankly at the monitor, restless, but not sure what to do with himself. She’d told him this morning that she was telling her grandmother the truth today, no matter what. She refused to lie to the woman who’d basically raised her. Finn got it, but it probably meant this disaster he’d created was about to go nuclear. No way a woman with Maura’s integrity would allow the ruse to continue, even if Bridget considered it. She’d shocked him when she told him not to say anything to Howard Greer yet, but she was just delaying the inevitable.

  He couldn’t blame Bridget for not wanting to go along with the made-up engagement story. Hell, he wouldn’t have gone along with it, either, if anyone else had come up with it. The whole thing was a colossally stupid idea, but he was in it now. If Maura McKinnon insisted that Bridget spill the beans, as she definitely would, his career was over.

  He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet to start pacing. He’d been doing that a lot today. But no matter how many steps he walked, he couldn’t find a way out of this.

  He’d never been an impulsive guy. It wasn’t like him to make up stories. Technically, he hadn’t made up a story this time, either. It was Greer who got carried away with everything. Finn stopped to stare out the window at the drifting snow. Who was he kidding? Sure, the guy jumped to one conclusion after another, but Finn could’ve stopped it at any time. He just hadn’t been paying enough attention to see what was going on.

  That had been happening a lot. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice that his wife was cheating on him with his best friend. You think he’d learn his lesson, but no. He’d probably end up going home—back to Dublin. Maybe it was what he deserved. He hadn’t been able to hold on to his wife. He hadn’t had very good taste in best friends. When everything fell apart, he hadn’t handled it well. He still wasn’t handling it well. Maybe home to the old sod would be the best thing for him. Maybe he should do it before the truth came out. He started pacing again, but more thoughtfully this time.

  That wasn’t a bad idea. He hated giving up, but going back to Ireland would save face for him and for Bridget. If he left now, she could tell everyone he was the asshole who dumped her and left. It wouldn’t be fun for her. She’d get attention she probably wouldn’t appreciate. There’d be some gossip. Some strange looks and questions. But it would be better if that happened rather than have the truth come out that the story was made up. He mentally kicked himself in the ass. It wasn’t like he’d had a lot of honest people in his life. And the one honest person he’d met...he’d dragged into a lie.

  He looked at his watch. Bridget should be getting back anytime now. Maybe it was time to start packing. Rick would call this one of Finn’s dark Irish moods, and maybe it was. Finn might be three kinds of an idiot, but he was smart enough to know when he’d defeated himself. He’d just stepped into the hallway from the office when Bridget came in the front door, brushing snow from her shoulders. She froze when she saw him standing there, but her gaze was unfocused. Her eyes were puffy and red. Looking at her pale face, and knowing she’d been crying because of something he’d put in motion...

  It gutted him.

  He took a step toward her. “Ah, shite, I’m so damn sorry. Do you want me to go talk to Maura right now?” His chest ached. “I’ll explain everything to her, Bridget. I’ll apologize. I’ll throw myself on my sword as many times as it takes. Damn it, I should have been the one to tell her in the first place.” Bridget stared at him as if she didn’t recognize him. Then her head dropped.

  “I didn’t tell her.” Her voice was so soft, so...sad. After all her anger earlier, he was having a hard time reconciling what she’d said. He stepped toward her.

  “It’s okay. I should be the one to tell her. Look, I’ll go do it right now.” He grabbed for his coat, but Bridget’s hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist like a vise.

  “No! You can’t tell her. None of us can.”

  Finn tried to make sense of those words. Did she change her mind? Wasn’t that a good thing? It didn’t feel like a good thing. She looked more than upset. She looked...traumatized. He was missing something.

  “Tell me what happened, love.”

  She blinked and looked away. But not fast enough to hide the tears gathering again. He reached b
ehind her and opened the door to his apartment.

  “Come on in. I’ll make some tea for you.”

  She gave a hollow laugh. “That’s what my grandmother just did. You’re gonna need to up your game.”

  “O-kay. How about something stronger?”

  It was the first sign of a smile he’d seen since she walked in. Just a little flutter at the corner of her mouth. Her head barely nodded, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak. He held the door open and waited.

  She looked up at him, and he knew she was thinking of the very first day. When she didn’t trust him enough to let him walk through the door behind her. That corner of her mouth lifted even higher now. She walked past him into the apartment. The show of trust did something funny to his heart. He grabbed the Paddy’s whiskey from the counter—he hadn’t bothered putting it away last night—then pulled down two glasses and looked over at her.

  She was curled at the end of the small sofa. Another show of trust?

  “Ice?”

  She frowned for a moment as if she didn’t understand the question. Then she saw the bottle in his hand and recognition brightened in her eyes.

  “I drink it straight, thanks.”

  Like a good Irish lass. He splashed a generous portion in both glasses.

  He joined her on the sofa, sitting in the opposite corner, and handed her the glass. “Tell me what happened. How can I fix it?”

  “I have no freaking idea how to fix it. All I know is—for the time being—you and I are engaged.”

  Again, he should be happy. The idea of the fake engagement was stupid, but if she was going to keep up this ruse, he’d get to keep his job. It didn’t feel like something to be happy about, though. And he had a feeling there was more to the story, so he waited.

  “I went there to tell her,” she said. “That was the plan. But...” She looked up, her eyes sad and dark. “Nana had a really bad day. Bad night last night. She’s been so sick this week...”

  He wanted to reach for her, but he held back.

  “The chemo?”

  “Yes.” Bridget wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “She’s been okay. Well, not okay, but considering what she’s going through. She’s been tired but...okay. But it’s really walloped her this week. She was sick to her stomach all night. Can’t sleep. She said her whole body aches. Her joints hurt. She fell the other day. They gave her medication, but she’s already on so much medication...” Bridget stared down at the glass she was holding in her lap. “She’s the strong one, you know? She’s the strongest one of us all.”

  Finn could believe that. Maura was a tough one.

  “You’re a strong one, too.”

  She looked up, surprised.

  “I wasn’t strong enough to tell her the truth.”

  “Not because you weren’t strong. There had to be another reason. What was it?”

  She rested her head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

  “Finn, she believes it! She not only believes it...she’s in love with the idea of us.”

  “The idea of...us? You and me? She’s in love with that?”

  “Yeah, I can’t figure it out either. But there it is.” Her eyebrows lowered and she looked at him again. “She’s freakin’ thrilled, which makes no sense. She doesn’t know you. Why would she be happy that I’m engaged to you? She should be telling me to run for the hills. Instead...instead she’s throwing us an engagement party this weekend.”

  His glass had been just about to touch his lips when she said that last sentence. He looked at her over the rim of the glass. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. An engagement party. For you and me.”

  He raised his hand. “I know I said I wanted to keep this going for a little while, but...”

  Her voice went brittle. “What the hell did you think was going to happen? You thought we were just gonna tell the town—this town—hey we’re getting married, and no one would care? I mean, I know you haven’t been in Rendezvous Falls very long, but this is a town that likes weddings. That likes happy stories. This is a town...and the McKinnons are a family... Everyone knows who we are. And why are you upset? This whole thing was your idea.”

  “I know this was a stupid thing to do. I get it. I never meant to drag you into this. But I was picturing us more as a low-key sort of couple. No dates set. We got engaged in a hurry, so we can tell everyone we’re gonna take our time. Right?”

  “A long engagement is fine, but I still have to deal with my family. And a long engagement is still engaged. And Nana wants a party. Don’t you Irish love parties?”

  He chuckled. “You’ve seen my lifestyle, Bridget. My idea of a party is drinking a pint of Guinness while reading instead of a cup o’ tea.”

  “Well, you’ll have to suck it up and leave your books at home to come to a McKinnon party. Where people drink and sing and argue and all the normal party stuff.”

  “Arguing is normal party stuff?”

  She shrugged. “It is for the McKinnons.”

  The web of this story was getting twisted more than he’d anticipated. “I hate to ask this, but seriously, if Maura’s that sick, is she even up for a party? How will she handle learning the truth after we let her throw a freakin’ party? I know you’re worried about her health, but won’t this thing make the truth hurt her all the more?”

  “Finn...” Bridget chewed her top lip, looking more vulnerable that he’d ever seen her. She shifted to face him. “She looked at me and said our wedding gave her something to live for. That our engagement news made the treatments worth it.”

  Never saw that coming.

  Finn set his glass down on the coffee table and scrubbed his hands up and down his face.

  “I don’t know what to say.” He lowered his hands and looked at her. “I honestly have no clue. Sorry doesn’t cut it...”

  “Please just stop with the apologies, okay?” She drained her glass and glared at him. “There’s no question you screwed up, big time. But I screwed up, too.” She slapped her hand to her chest. “I could have told you to go screw yourself in the pub the other night. I could’ve laughed in your face in front of your boss. But I didn’t. God knows why. So here we are. And honestly...”

  She took in a shaky breath, raking her fingers through her long hair and pulling it back from her face so firmly it looked like it hurt. As if she needed to have her hair tight in order to think this through. He waited. She finally released it and looked at him with a shrug. “We both got ourselves here. My nana wants us engaged. And she wants a party. So guess what? You and I are engaged. And she’s getting a party.”

  Finn groaned, looking away from her and staring at the wall. If he could turn back time, he’d undo all of this, but she was right. They were in it now.

  “I’m not much of a party person.” It was the only thing he could think to say.

  Bridget laughed in earnest now. “Really? I’m not much of a let’s-pretend-to-be-engaged person either. But Nana wants this.” Her voice cracked. “We’re giving her what she wants.”

  “Of course.” He nodded. “Of course. If that’s what you need from me, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. For your grandmother. For you. And it doesn’t hurt my career, either. If a party is what it takes to keep this game going? I’ll be all the party animal you need. I just wonder...” She arched one eyebrow at him in question, and he pushed ahead. “What else are we getting ourselves into? If we’re really doing this, what are people going to expect from us?”

  Her face scrunched up as if finding the question distasteful. “Well...at the minimum, there will have to be a few PDAs. I suppose we have to be nice to each other in public. We live under the same roof, which actually helps.” She smiled at his look of confusion. “People can imagine whatever they want as far as what happens in this house. There are no prying eyes, so they’ll just assume we’re...
” She paused, a soft pink spreading on her cheeks. “Well...you know. It shouldn’t be that difficult once we get past the party.” She waved her left hand in the air. “I’ve already been asked why I don’t have a ring, by the way. I mean, I’ll give it back when this is over, but I should have something, right?”

  He tensed, remembering the last time he bought an engagement ring. Dori had been at his side and they’d had nothing but dewy-eyed hope for the future. He’d been so naive then, with no idea how deep her betrayal would cut him one day. This plan was starting to poke at pieces of his heart that were already scarred and tender. He cleared his throat.

  “Uh...yeah,” he muttered. “A ring. Brilliant. I’ll come up with something, but if I buy one you won’t be giving it back.”

  “You want me to keep a fake engagement ring?”

  She was laughing, and he shook his head, pushing Dori memories out of his mind. “I’ll pay to have it made it into something else when things are...done. A necklace. Whatever you want. But...you’re not giving it back. That feels like it would be bad juju or something.”

  “Um...okay. Nana always says the Irish are a superstitious lot. As far as what else...” She shrugged. “We’ll have to figure that out as we go, I guess. Do we need to do anything specific to keep your boss happy?”

  “I think Greer is happy just knowing I have my roots in the community.”

  Finn stood to get the bottle of whiskey, bringing it back to the sofa to refill their glasses.

  “Are you really that much of a flight risk, O’Hearn?”

  “Not anymore. Now I’m engaged to be married to a nice local girl.”

  She sipped her whiskey, tension easing from her shoulders as she snuggled into the corner of the sofa. She’d kicked off her boots, and her long jeans-clad legs were tucked under her body, her dark sweater hugging every curve. Her smile was softer and more relaxed now, either from the whiskey or the fact that they’d agreed on some sort of plan—crazy as it was. There was genuine amusement shining in her eyes.