you still speak Gaelic?”
Padraig smiled at her effort. Not Gaelic. Their language was referred to as Irish or Gaeilge , but now wasn’t the time to correct her. “I don’t personally, but there are some places that speak it as their first language instead of English, like in Connemara in County Galway. And of course, we have telly that is in the Irish language.”
With her look of disappointment, Padraig added, “But we all have to learn it in school from day one.”
Her face brightened. “Oh yeah? Say something for me.”
Aw fuck, he should have known that was coming. He took a long drink of beer as he wracked his brain for a suitable phrase. Not something corny or crass. But that’s all he seemed to be able to remember at the moment, phrases that the boys would throw out at each other while they were drinking at the tournaments overseas.
Then it hit him. He looked her directly in the eye. “ A chuisle mo chroí .”
“Hold on… How do you say it again?”
Padraig sounded it out for her. “Ah khush-le mo chree.”
She repeated it. “That’s beautiful. What does it mean?”
Literally pulse of my heart , but Padraig asked instead, “Have you ever seen the movie Million Dollar Baby ?”
“The boxing movie?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. They spelled it wrong in the film, but anyhow, if you ever get a chance to watch it, you’ll find your answer there.”
“I heard it was a tear-jerker.”
Padraig paused, his heart caught in his throat at the amazing woman in front of him. “Yeah, I might have spilled one or two.” He smiled to make her comfortable.
Gillian punched him playfully on the arm. “Aw, go on, ya big softie.”
They laughed.
Somehow, Gillian had drawn him in, in all her peculiarities. He wasn’t sure if it was the setting or that they’d removed themselves from their environment, but here, her brilliance was true. Kind and smiling, she had grace and style. And when he took the time to look, she was beautiful. And after the yoga today, he knew she had an amazing figure along with the package. Why she chose to hide it, he couldn’t imagine, but her indifference was refreshing. Titillating. Sexy in its own way.
After his second pint, a full belly, and great conversation, Padraig was buzzing. Maybe Gillian would like to go out again. She was a slow eater, daintily picking at her food. Using her utensils the Irish way had prolonged the meal, but Padraig didn’t mind. While she refolded her napkin and placed it on her plate, Padraig struggled to decide if he should ask her out again. Get the awkward moment out of the way before they got to the car.
But then the waitress returned to collect their plates, and the chance was gone. Gillian asked for the check and folded her hands on the table in front of her. Then she shoved them into her lap, only to raise one again to twirl a curl of hair around a finger.
He was about to save her by offering up more conversation, but she began, “I was wondering about the oxycodone you’re taking…”
Oh fuck, here it comes.
“Did you start on a larger dose and reduce down to what you are on now?”
Fuck! She’d roped him in and soothed him like a babe in a cradle. Softened him with her smile and laugh. Subdued him with her wit and charm. He should have known. He had known. But then they’d been getting along so well. He’d really enjoyed himself. “Is that really why you asked me out for dinner?”
She had twisted her finger tight around the curl and was now yanking on the strand. “No! I mean, maybe a little, but mostly—”
The waitress cut her off when she laid the bill down in the middle of the table. Padraig was so mad he didn’t even offer. Feck it. She’d said she wanted to pay him back. Well, they were square now.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I just thought that maybe if you haven’t started to reduce the dosage—”
“Just stop,” Padraig interrupted, but she kept talking in her same calm tone as if they
Padraig smiled at her effort. Not Gaelic. Their language was referred to as Irish or Gaeilge , but now wasn’t the time to correct her. “I don’t personally, but there are some places that speak it as their first language instead of English, like in Connemara in County Galway. And of course, we have telly that is in the Irish language.”
With her look of disappointment, Padraig added, “But we all have to learn it in school from day one.”
Her face brightened. “Oh yeah? Say something for me.”
Aw fuck, he should have known that was coming. He took a long drink of beer as he wracked his brain for a suitable phrase. Not something corny or crass. But that’s all he seemed to be able to remember at the moment, phrases that the boys would throw out at each other while they were drinking at the tournaments overseas.
Then it hit him. He looked her directly in the eye. “ A chuisle mo chroí .”
“Hold on… How do you say it again?”
Padraig sounded it out for her. “Ah khush-le mo chree.”
She repeated it. “That’s beautiful. What does it mean?”
Literally pulse of my heart , but Padraig asked instead, “Have you ever seen the movie Million Dollar Baby ?”
“The boxing movie?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. They spelled it wrong in the film, but anyhow, if you ever get a chance to watch it, you’ll find your answer there.”
“I heard it was a tear-jerker.”
Padraig paused, his heart caught in his throat at the amazing woman in front of him. “Yeah, I might have spilled one or two.” He smiled to make her comfortable.
Gillian punched him playfully on the arm. “Aw, go on, ya big softie.”
They laughed.
Somehow, Gillian had drawn him in, in all her peculiarities. He wasn’t sure if it was the setting or that they’d removed themselves from their environment, but here, her brilliance was true. Kind and smiling, she had grace and style. And when he took the time to look, she was beautiful. And after the yoga today, he knew she had an amazing figure along with the package. Why she chose to hide it, he couldn’t imagine, but her indifference was refreshing. Titillating. Sexy in its own way.
After his second pint, a full belly, and great conversation, Padraig was buzzing. Maybe Gillian would like to go out again. She was a slow eater, daintily picking at her food. Using her utensils the Irish way had prolonged the meal, but Padraig didn’t mind. While she refolded her napkin and placed it on her plate, Padraig struggled to decide if he should ask her out again. Get the awkward moment out of the way before they got to the car.
But then the waitress returned to collect their plates, and the chance was gone. Gillian asked for the check and folded her hands on the table in front of her. Then she shoved them into her lap, only to raise one again to twirl a curl of hair around a finger.
He was about to save her by offering up more conversation, but she began, “I was wondering about the oxycodone you’re taking…”
Oh fuck, here it comes.
“Did you start on a larger dose and reduce down to what you are on now?”
Fuck! She’d roped him in and soothed him like a babe in a cradle. Softened him with her smile and laugh. Subdued him with her wit and charm. He should have known. He had known. But then they’d been getting along so well. He’d really enjoyed himself. “Is that really why you asked me out for dinner?”
She had twisted her finger tight around the curl and was now yanking on the strand. “No! I mean, maybe a little, but mostly—”
The waitress cut her off when she laid the bill down in the middle of the table. Padraig was so mad he didn’t even offer. Feck it. She’d said she wanted to pay him back. Well, they were square now.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I just thought that maybe if you haven’t started to reduce the dosage—”
“Just stop,” Padraig interrupted, but she kept talking in her same calm tone as if they
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