“Hey, I wanted to wish you luck with your exam this morning.”
“Ugh.” I hear her sigh heavily. “I haven’t taken an exam since school. And the first part is math. Like who adds up things manually these days?”
I smile, pushing away my own worries for a moment. “You’ll be fine. You’ve done the practice test.”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Great,” I lie. “I’m pretty decided on London now.” I’ve been talking to Orla about this for a couple of days and she’s become worse than Granny Deirdre, sending me articles about the less-than-ideal aspects of life in London. A rat spotted in a restaurant. People renting out rooms the size of cupboards for exorbitant sums. Not helpful.
Orla hums thoughtfully in response. “I don’t want you to give up on New York. It’s not the same here without you.”
I close my eyes and take a breath before responding. “I miss you, too. I’ll start saving and come for a visit in a few months, I promise.”
“Christmas in New York?”
I was so looking forward to my first Christmas in New York. Ice-skating at the Rockefeller. Mulled wine in Central Park. “I’ll check how much flights are.”
“By the way, we had a visitor at The Auld Dog last night.”
“Oh yeah?”
She pauses. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you because it seems like you’re getting over him.”
My heart races. I clutch the phone tighter.
“Connor Quinn.”
“Connor, Killian’s brother?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he want?”
“I’m not sure. He said he was in the area.” She pauses. “He was asking about you.”
“What exactly did he ask?” I ask, hysteria creeping into my voice.
“It was vague. He recognized me and said hi. He wanted to know where you were living now and how you were doing. I told him you were thinking of moving to London. Honestly, it seemed like small talk. Sorry, Clodagh.”
I want to scream down the phone at Orla that she needs to tell me every single minute detail about their exchange. What did he say? What mood was he in? What was his tone like?
Why? Why was he there?
“Careful,” I joke instead. “They probably have their ear on bulldozing the pub to put a casino there.”
She laughs. “Over Uncle Sean’s dead body.”
We both fall silent. The thought of Connor being in the pub makes me sad.
“Did he mention Killian?”
“No. He said that Teagan’s upset that you’re gone, though.”
I smile. Teagan and I have been exchanging emails, although I try not to bring Killian up. She sometimes talks about him-like how he doesn’t let her do something or how he’s in a bad mood. Superficial stuff. I couldn’t handle anything deeper.
I’m sure we’ll lose contact sooner or later now that nothing holds us together anymore.
“I gotta go, Orla,” I say as Mam walks into the shop. “Good luck. You’ll do brilliantly.”
I hang up the phone.
“We have a funeral to go to,” Mam cheerfully informs me as she sets her handbag down on the counter. “Your neighbor’s dead. Passed away in his sleep last night. Ninety.”
“Oh wonderful,” I reply sarcastically. “I can’t wait. I don’t even know the man well; why do I have to go?”
“He’s your neighbor.” She scowls at me. “Besides, his nephew will be there. The good-looking one with the limp. He’s single, you know.”
Oh, for God’s sake.
So now my mum is trying to play matchmaker for me at a dead guy’s goodbye party.
Her scowl deepens. “Although he won’t be interested in you with that ridiculous hoop through your nose.”
Fuck my life.
Killian
Clodagh’s right about the subway; sometimes, it is superior to an air-conditioned SUV.
Since we’ve been at a standstill on the Brooklyn Bridge for twenty minutes, I’m tempted to jump out and walk the rest of the way.
I used to love coming to Brooklyn when I was a kid. Mom would take us to Coney Island Beach, only fifteen miles away from our home in Queens, but that would be our summer vacation. I hadn’t been outside the state when I was Teagan’s age. Teagan has traveled all over the world.
It’s always a fear of mine. When you bring your kids into wealth, and I mean extreme wealth, are you really giving them a better life? Teagan has never had to hope or wish for anything, even if I impose limits on her pocket money.
But where is her passion and desire to accomplish her ambitions if nothing ever presents an obstacle? Am I raising her to expect everything to come easy?
“Traffic is clearing now, boss,” my driver says with a hint of relief.
I let out a quiet hum in response and lean back in my seat.
Good. I’ve had too much time to think on this journey.
My gaze dips to the image on my phone. Teagan would be shocked if she knew how much time I spend scrolling on social media; no doubt I’d be accused of double standards.
Except I’m not here for likes, connections, or any other way others get their dopamine hit. All I feel is pain. Every post is a stab in the heart, a reminder of what I’ve lost.
Because I spend my time staring at pictures of a red-haired Irish vixen with gorgeous green eyes. My fear intensifies with each swipe that the next will show she’s moved on, that I’m nothing to her now.
I’ve gone through a lot of things in my lifetime; Harlow’s death being the worst. Years of having a deadbeat father, threats on my life, a stalker, and almost having my business go under in the beginning years.
Not having Clodagh in my life is right up there, too.
But at least I know she’s safe, far across the Atlantic Ocean, away from me.
It’s been weeks since she last posted anything on social media. I mainly look at pictures of her in New York, taken when she was living with me, trying to convince myself she’s still close. It’s torture.
I lie awake in the middle of the night as waves of unease hit me like a storm surge. She’s so fucking far away from me now.
But the distance between us keeps her safe.
The bridge behind us, we finally arrive at the casino site after a half-hour drive.
Connor and I have always been hands-on, which is why I’m about to don a hard hat and talk to the foreman and workers of the construction company. Phase 1-the demolition of the old motel-should be complete next week. I want to meet the team to look into the whites of their eyes and know they’re telling me the truth.
My driver pulls to a stop, and I get out and am immediately hit with a cacophony of construction sounds.
The cranes, diggers, and half a demolished hotel make the building site an eyesore. But in six months, the Brooklyn skyline will contain a new addition: a sleek hotel and casino that blends aesthetically with its surroundings. I haven’t been out here in a few months now.
I wonder if this is where Clodagh wanted to live in Brooklyn. I wonder if it’s near the restaurant she went to for her birthday. I’m always fucking wondering.