Megan

It was dark by the time they arrived in Doolin. They checked into their Bed and Breakfast and carried their gear to their room.

“Shite,” Zander muttered when he opened the door to their suite.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

Megan walked around Zander into the room. It was adorable—blue and white gingham curtains, hardwood floors, white walls decorated in Irish pastorals, and one comfy-looking king-sized bed. “Oh well,” she said dropping her things onto the floor.

“I’ll go back down and see if they have any other rooms available,” Zander offered.

“It’s not a big deal, Zander. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

Zander huffed.

Okay, apparently he wasn’t ready to revisit that topic yet. He stared at her like she’d just uttered an unspeakable curse.

“I’ll go back down and see about another room,” he said again before hightailing it out of the cozy bedroom.

Megan sighed and sat down on the bed. “One step forward, two steps back.”

She glanced at the bedside menu and frowned. The B&B had a café but it was only open for breakfast. Her stomach growled. She was in desperate need of a hot shower and a hot meal. Kicking off her boots, Megan padded to the en suite bathroom to satisfy one of her needs.

Refreshed from a quick shower, Megan wrapped herself in a towel and headed back into the bedroom to change. She hadn’t been expecting Zander to be in the room and smacked into him. His arms circled around her, warm and steady. For a moment they just stared at each other, electricity crackling between them with each breath.

Finally, Zander broke the spell and backed away. “Sorry. They’re full. We’ll have to share the room.”

“Okay,” Megan murmured.

“Okay.”

After awkwardly shimmying past each other, Zander took his turn in the shower while Megan quickly dressed. She put on a vintage Bowie tee, her favorite baggy cardigan, jeans and the white oxford shoes she’d scored in Dublin. When Zander was ready, they grabbed their jackets and walked down the street to grab dinner.

“This place looks fun,” Megan observed as they approached the little red pub.

“Fitzpatrick’s is grand,” Zander replied.

“You’ve been here before?”

“I have.”

“That’s all I get?”

“Devon and I used to come here in the summer. There’s a surf camp not too far off. We used to come to Fitz’s for the music after a day at the beach.”

Megan grinned, picturing teenaged beach bum versions of Zander and Devon tearing it up in Doolin. There must’ve been a trail of brokenhearted girls in their wake.

Zander opened the door for Megan and right away she knew she was going to love Fitzpatrick’s. Traditional Irish music greeted her like an old friend as a trio of musicians serenaded the local crowd packed inside the warm little pub. Half of the patrons were singing along, raising their pints and belting out their favorite verses.

Megan couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as Zander led her through the room. Her film critic’s eyes didn’t miss a thing. The crackling fire in the stone hearth, the old Irish advertisements for whiskey and beer, the vintage luggage and dusty instruments hidden in the open rafters, the seasoned taper candles dripping wax down the beer bottles that lit each table, the old wooden bar, polished to perfection. Fitzpatrick’s was a time capsule, capturing all the charm and allure Megan could’ve hoped to find in a seaside Irish pub.

Zander shook hands with the host and they were led to a cozy table in the back of the dimly lit dining room. Megan was a bit disappointed they were seated away from the music and lively atmosphere, but when she saw the trays of mouth-watering food go by, her disappointment was quickly forgotten. And truthfully, the quiet room was a better setting, because clearly there were some things she and Zander needed to discuss.

Megan ordered fish and chips and Zander ordered cottage pie. The food was phenomenal, and the pints of Guinness they ordered capped off the perfect meal.

Megan savored the cool creamy taste of her beer. “Guinness truly is better in Ireland.”

Zander nodded. “I agree.”

“How do you know? You haven’t been to the states. Wait . . . have you?”

“Ye know I haven’t,” he said taking a sip of his pint. “But I’ve been to other countries.”

Like England. Megan took a big gulp of her own beer for a little liquid courage. “Zander, are we ever going to talk about what happened?”

He distracted himself with his drink. “What’s there to say?”

She gawked at him. “A lot.”

He shrugged.

“Can I ask you something?”

“If ye feel ye have to.”

Megan wanted to scream. She wanted to shake Zander until he turned back into the boy she thought she knew. “What kind of answer is that? I mean since when did you start talking like you don’t give a shit about anything?”

Zander stared into his beer.

Megan reached across the table and took his hand. “Zander, it’s me. Just talk to me.”

He didn’t look up.

“Is it Tabitha?” Megan’s voice was barely a whisper. “If you want to be with her instead I can respect that, but just tell me.”

He finally looked at her, his eyes pleading. “No, Megan . . . that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Again Zander drowned his answers in his beer.

Megan felt her heart hammering as she prepared to ask the question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to. “Were you with her in London?”

After a long while, Zander nodded and Megan’s heart sank.

“Look, I don’t want to lie to ye, Megan. I was with Tabitha in London. I didn’t plan it, but I ran into her and . . .” he rubbed his face looking miserable and exhausted. “It was a mistake, Megan. I’m done with Tabitha. I know that now.”

Megan looked at Zander, desperate to understand him. He hadn’t made her any promises. He wasn’t her boyfriend. But it still hurt to know he’d been with Tabitha while Megan had been pathetically pining after him like a lovesick teenager.

She didn’t know where that left them. “What about us?” she asked. “Were we a mistake too?”

“Megan . . .”

“No. I know I freaked you out, Zander, but that doesn’t normally happen. I mean seriously, it doesn’t. It’s never happened when I’ve been with a guy.”

Zander’s voice was tight as he pulled his hand away from hers. “But it happened when ye were with me.”

There was so much pain etched across his handsome face that she wanted to crawl across the table and kiss it away until his crooked smile returned.

“Is that why you left?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Zander?” Megan was unwilling to let it go. She couldn’t let him think he had caused her asthma attack. “Tell me why you left.”

His head sank into his hands. “I left to protect ye.”

“From what?”

He looked up at her, his eyes green pools of despair. “From me.”

Megan grappled to find the right words. “But that’s not what I want.”

“Ye said it yourself. That’s never happened before.”

“So we’ll slow down.”

He shook his head.

“Zander, I need you to know it wasn’t your fault. And it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I miss you. I-I want to be with you. And I thought you wanted that too.”

His head continued to shake. “It’s not worth the risk.”

“Why not?”

Finally he snapped. “Because nothing can come of this, Megan! We both know that.”

“Um, I don’t know that.”

“Yer leaving in a few months.”

“So what?”

“So, if we continue down this path someone’s gonna get hurt.”

“I’m not afraid of getting hurt, Zander.”

“Maybe I’m the one who’s afraid,” he growled.

“Of me?”

“Come on, Megan. We both know what this is. Yer on vacation. I’m just a pit stop for ye. In a few months you’ll be back in Boston and I’ll be an after thought. There’s no reason to overcomplicate this.”

“So that’s it? We haven’t even started and you’ve already given us an expiration date?”

He shrugged.

“Zander, that’s no way to live your life.”

“I’m not like ye, Megan. I don’t need to see the good in everything. I wish I could, but life has taught me otherwise. Every time I have something good it’s taken away from me and I’m tired of it.”

Megan threw her hands up. “Well that’s a fantastic plan. Just avoid everything good and waste your life.”

“What do ye want me to say, Megan?”

“I want you to stop being a coward and figure out what you want. I want you to be the guy I know you are. Because I fell for him. And I’d fight for him. But I can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself.”

“I never said I needed yer help.”

“You’re right. And I’m not one of those girls who needs to save every stubborn, broken boy she takes to bed.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes!”

“Well since ye have all the answers please go on.”

Megan stood up. “I don’t have all the answers, Zander. But I know I’m not going to waste anymore time on someone who’s willing to throw what we could’ve been away because he’s afraid.”

And then she stalked out of the dining room.

Zander

Zander sat in stunned silence as he watched Megan walk away from him until her sultry silhouette was swallowed up by the crowded pub scene. He blinked through his shock. What the hell had just happened? One minute they were talking about beer and the next she was telling him to go fuck himself.

‘You asked for it, ye stubborn git,’ his subconscious scolded.

He had as good as told her that she wasn’t worth pursuing. Zander had nearly choked on the words as he’d forced them out of his mouth. And at the time, he thought he was doing the right thing, but now he wasn’t sure of anything—except maybe the boiling anger in his veins.

This was not what he wanted.

Zander motioned to the waiter and quickly paid their tab, prepared to chase after Megan and apologize. But by the time he reached the tavern room she was nowhere in sight. Panic lanced his gut. Where the hell was she?

Doolin was a sleepy seaside town. How much trouble could Megan have gotten herself into in the ten minutes it took Zander to get his wits about him?

“If yer looking for yer lass, she headed out for a smoke,” said a red-nosed patron deep in his drink.

Smoke? Megan didn’t smoke. Zander nodded his appreciation to the patron and darted out the front door. It was freezing outside and the picnic tables were empty. He was about to go back inside when he heard Megan’s laughter drifting toward him.

Zander rounded the corner and sure enough, Megan was there. She was wearing a leather jacket that didn’t belong to her and giggling as she passed a joint back to her newfound friend.

“What the fuck, Megan?”

“Chill, mate,” the guy said wrapping his arm around Megan. “We’re just having a bit a fun.”

“Fun’s over,” Zander seethed. “Let’s go, Megan.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Zander reached for Megan’s arm and the stupid bloke she was with stepped in Zander’s way. “Ye got a problem wit yer ears, mate? The lass said she don’t wanna go wit ye.”

Zander’s temper was near exploding. He grabbed the scrawny stoner by the neck of his plaid shirt and shoved him up against the building. “The only bloke with a problem is gonna be you if ye get in my way or touch my girl again. Do ye understand?”

The man raised his hands in submission. “I don’t want no trouble, mate.”

Zander let the squirming stoner slide down the wall. As soon as his feet hit the ground he was running.

“You forgot your jacket,” Megan called after him, but he didn’t stop. “Real nice, Zander.”

“Let’s go,” Zander growled reaching for her hand.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere with you,” she hissed yanking her arm out of his reach.

“We’re not all on holiday, Megan. I have work to do. I need to get back to the room.”

“Then go. I’m not your responsibility.”

“I’m not leaving ye here by yerself.”

“Suit yourself,” she spat and turned on her heels.

Zander watched in astonishment as Megan marched right back into the pub. He wanted to punch something, but against his better judgment he took a deep breath and followed her back into Fitzpatrick’s to play babysitter.