Seacliff

Chapter thirty-four: American Saoirse

2019

Saoirse arrived early. She waited five minutes outside the pub, but the winter wind was worse than the cold. It lashed at her face, stinging her eyes. She sucked in a sharp, spicy breath and exhaled hot steam. Might as well go and make herself comfortable inside.

The foreignness of Scottish pubs confounded her. The accent and the different beer sizes. A British pint wasn't much bigger than an American one, but it added up in the long run. It wouldn't be an issue today, though. She wasn't here to drink, but she headed for the bar because she figured Aidan might not be able to spot her if she sat at a table.

"Hiya there."

Saoirse smiled up at the woman who came to take her order. Hazel eyes, braided hair, fox tattooed on her hand. The much-lauded Fiona.

"Hi," Saoirse managed to mutter in response.

"What can I get ye?"

"Oh, just... chips and a beer?"

Fiona grinned. "Would that be crisps or fries?"

Saoirse chuckled. "Crisps, please. Still getting used to the lingo."

"Nae bother. What about the beer? Any preferences?"

Saoirse racked her brain for an answer that wouldn't make her sound like a stupid American. "Ale," she said. "I think Holyrood ale is the local brand?"

"I'll fetch you a bottle and a bag of crisps. Plain salt, or...?"

"Oh, salt and vinegar, please. Thank you."

Fiona couldn't help noticing the ring on her customer's finger when she returned with the ale and popped the bottle open. A silver Claddagh ring, eerily similar to the one she'd found at Aidan's flat.

"Thanks."

Fiona left the American to it. She had pints to fill and cocktails to make as the happy-hour crowd started to trickle in. Her shift was almost over, though. Aidan was due to show up at any minute and take her to meet this mysterious person he was so keen on introducing her to.

The American woman at the bar was halfway through her ale when Fiona went to clear a table that had been vacated for some time. The servers had their hands full and she didn't mind helping out. Patrons were queueing up, too. As she was wiping off sticky stains, the door chimed open and Aidan strolled in. Her smile was instantaneous.

"Oh, good," he said, approaching her. "You're both here."

His sparkling gaze travelled to the American woman, who was watching them now and gave a little wave. Fiona gulped, her heart sinking like a boulder into her stomach.

*

The drive to Seacliff Beach was painfully quiet. Aidan could feel Saoirse's discomfort fizzing in his own belly, whereas Fiona's bewilderment radiated off her. He couldn't tell if she was mad or confused, or both, but she struggled to keep it casual.

Fiona parked on the side of the road like he asked her, then followed at a distance while Aidan led the way through the bare woodland. Naked branches swayed above them, fallen twigs crunched underfoot. The sea roared and whined ahead. The closer they got to the beach, the more Saoirse relaxed and Aidan could breathe easier, too. Yet tendrils of tension coiled like tentacles between the trio.

"What are we doing here?" Fiona demanded once they'd reached the shore.

Aidan hesitated. He'd given it so much thought and he still couldn't muster the words. He hadn't found any that would not make him sound like a raving lunatic.

"I don't know how to tell you," he began, taking off his glasses, "so I'm just going to show you."

He passed her his specs. She frowned as he started to unzip his jacket. Then her eyebrows jumped when he shed it.

"Aidan, what the hell?"

His jumper came off next, followed by his shoes, so he could remove his trousers. Fiona's eyes darted sideways in Saoirse's direction, who looked and faced away. Aidan continued to undress.

"Mate, this isn't funny. It's bloody December."

"I'm not cold."

The colour drained from Fiona's cheeks.

"Aidan, please..." Her voice was breaking.

He was down to his boxer shorts now.

"Do you trust me?"

"Aidan – "

"Fiona." He took her hands in his and brought one of her palms to his heart. Her eyes widened, no doubt at the warmth she felt. "Do you trust me, a chuisle mo chroí?"

Fiona forced a crooked smirk. "That's a new one."

He raised her fingers to his mouth to kiss them. "It means 'pulse of my heart'."

She gulped. "Of course I trust you," she whispered. "I promised, didn't I?"

He kissed her fingers again, then her forehead. "I'll be right back."

"Where... where are you going?"

She glanced at Saoirse for help when he broke away from her, but the American still studied her toes. Aidan stepped out of his boxers and ran into the sea.