“Willa! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Nice try, slick. I’m on to you.”

Faith acts like she’s just been struck deaf, leaning toward me and squinting. Her companion puts a hand on my arm. “Get you a drink, love?”

“Here, take this one,” I say wearily, handing him Faith’s drink. I’m not getting her out of here unless I club her over the head and drag her. It’s there in the stubborn set of her chin. For the first time, I can see a resemblance between her and Shane. I squeeze between two girls to get to the bar and order two fresh drinks for us. When I turn around holding our beers, I stop short. Faith is dancing near the stage, looking as though she’s just gotten out of school for summer. And found out she’s won the lottery. Hands above her head, she twirls in a circle and sends me an exaggerated wink.

I can’t help it. I laugh.

It feels really fucking good to laugh.

Chapter Five

By my third drink, I’m battling the foreign urge to sing. Loudly. However, compared to the pace with which the people around me are drinking, I’m sober as Judge Judy. With Faith picking a new dancing companion every ten minutes, I’m staying sharp to keep an eye on her, but I’m starting to loosen up a little and have a good time. O’Kelly’s, while definitely rough around the edges, is humming with energy and packed full of colorful characters. Sure, I may have been required to dodge another fistfight since arriving, but I’m starting to become fascinated by what starts the arguments. How once the fight ends, the participants go back to their pints like it never happened. A planned part of the evening.

As Faith dances to the final song of Brian and Patrick’s set, I lean back against the bar and let the music beat through me. In the dimness of O’Kelly’s, with a buzz singing in my veins, I feel calm. Thoughts of Evan have receded for the first time in weeks and while I know it’s thanks in part to the beer, I decide not to give myself a hard time. For tonight, I’m not worried about nudging my alcoholic gene to life. A million miles away from my past, the warning I’ve always lived with in the back of my head doesn’t seem quite so glaring.

Not that I’ve ever been worried about turning into my mother. Nothing, no amount of pain or disappointments in this lifetime, could turn me into Valerie Peet. But growing up in the same house with her, witnessing her behavior while under the influence, removed the appeal of getting drunk or stoned. At the odd high school parties I attended, people were always shocked when I rejected beer or the joint they were passing around.

It had slowly dawned on me that my clothing, the way I hid under piles of black, created the assumption that I was a user. Like Valerie. While I found that ignorant, I still hesitated when it came time to redye my hair. My hand became a little less heavy when applying eyeliner.

I don’t like being anyone’s assumption.

I snap back to the present when Brian and Patrick set their instruments down on the stage, bowing dramatically to the raucous applause. Flushed and goofy-smiled, Faith pats the dancing partner warmly on the shoulder and skips her way back to me. She looks so damn pleased with herself that I raise my beer in salute and she curtsies in response. I hand her my beer and she downs it in one swallow. When she comes up for air, we both laugh.

“Did you see me out there, Willa?”

“I did. You’re a regular Colin Farrell.”

Her tinkling laugh draws interested looks from the same male customers I’ve been warning away from me with dark looks all night. Faith isn’t nearly as intimidating. In her current bubbly, bright-eyed state, she’s effervescent. I shouldn’t feel proud, but I can’t help it. Someone plays a pop song on the jukebox, and Faith jumps up and down, obviously recognizing the song. I’ve never heard it.

Patrick and Brian approach us, and Patrick throws a wiry arm around my shoulders. I roll my eyes at the gesture, but my good mood lets him keep it there. “Brian, have you ever seen two more beautiful women grace the four walls of O’Kelly’s?”

“None beside our ma, Pat.” He smiles rather charmingly at Faith. “So, Beyoncé, are you going to tell us your friend’s name?”

“Gentleman, meet Celine Dion.”

“Celine, you dance like a dream,” Brian says without missing a beat. “I could barely concentrate on my fiddle playing. It takes a certain kind of woman to distract me from my strings.”

Faith cocks a hip and bats her eyelashes. “And just what kind of woman is that?”

“The right kind, love.”

Oh boy. “Celine, this is Patrick. And Brian is the one not so subtly trying to pick you up.” I shake my head at the brothers’ pleased grins. They really didn’t have the ability to feel shame. “These guys have an interesting busking act on Grafton Street.”

“Do you?” Faith breathes. “I bet you meet loads of interesting people.”

“Loads,” Brian confirms, visibly delighted to have Faith’s full attention. “I’m willing to bet none of them are half as interesting as you, though.”

Faith turns red. “Ah, go away of that.”

I watch carefully as the bartender slides a round of drinks in front of Patrick. He hands one to each of us, then holds up his pint. It’s so full that foam washes down over his calloused hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Here’s to the fine balance of the universe.”

My drink pauses halfway to my mouth. “Huh?”

“The balance of the universe,” Patrick explains with a wink. “No other way to explain us being kicked out of our flat this morning, then find ourselves sharing drinks with the two most beautiful women in Dublin that very same night.”

“To balance,” Brian toasts, then drains half his glass.

Right now, that absurd explanation is making complete sense to me. In fact, as I take a long sip of my drink, I wonder if that practical outlook isn’t the answer to everything. Just look at me. I wouldn’t be here shooting the shit with pickpockets if I hadn’t gone through a draining break-up.

“To balance,” I repeat to myself. “So what did you do to get kicked out?”

Brian laughs. “It was a long time coming, I’m afraid. But the final straw was last night. Patrick came home piss drunk, put on his headphones, and blasted his stereo as high as it would go.”