Through Your Eyes

Chapter 2-2

Maggie nudged her. “Everyone’s Irish today.” Then she handed Deirdre an order pad, an apron, and a tray. “Yell if you need help. Everyone working is wearing a bar T-shirt.”

Deirdre looked around the room. Sure enough, the dark green of the employees’ shirts was easy to spot in the sea of celebratory bright green. She sighed and waded into the crowd.

Within minutes, Deirdre felt overwhelmed. At every turn, someone yelled in her direction because they wanted another drink. And the green beer? What was that about? If these people wanted to be Irish, they should be enjoying a pint of Guinness. Instead of correcting their silly orders, she handled them all with a smile and a nod.

The customers were loud, but then a band set up on the stage and the noise level tripled. At least they played some good music. And Maggie had been right about the tips. As she spoke, people leaned in to hear her accent and joked about whether it was real. She was exhausted, but for a change, she wasn’t miserable.

Halfway through the night, Maggie grabbed her arm and tugged her toward the stage.

“What are you doing? I have people waiting for drinks.”

“It’s time to dance.”

“What?”

“Moira and I started doing it a couple of years ago. We get on stage and do an Irish dance. I know you know how to.”

“Are ye daft?” She yanked her arm back. “I won’t be making a fool of myself.”

“It’s fun.”

“Says you.”

“We make it up as we go. No one expects a professional dance. It’s just a good time. Trust me.”

Maggie grabbed Deirdre’s hand and pulled her toward the stage again. Suddenly, Moira was on her other side, boxing her in. They shuttled her up the stairs and Maggie released her hand before going to the microphone.

The bright lights practically blinded Deirdre.

“Hey, everyone. The O’Leary girls are back for our annual dance. And this year, we have a special guest, all the way from Ireland. Our cousin Deirdre.” She held out her arm toward Deirdre.

Deirdre forced a small smile. Moira squeezed her hand. Maggie came to her other side again and nodded to the band.

Deirdre waited a few beats as Maggie and Moira bounced. Then they all moved together in a simple dance, one that they’d probably learned by the age of eight. Deirdre felt silly since she knew how easy the dance was, but the crowd roared and she found herself smiling with her cousins.

The song ended and the three of them executed an awkward bow before leaving the stage. Jimmy and Shane met them at the bottom of the stairs with glasses of water for their women. Not that either of them could drink. They were laughing too hard. But the sweet gesture broadened Deirdre’s smile.

“Looking good, ladies,” Jimmy said.

With a hand on her stomach, Maggie took a deep breath. “No more dancing with Deirdre. That girl is fierce. I barely kept up.”

Deirdre stared at her cousin. “Me? I was following you.”

Moira touched her shoulder. “Maybe at the beginning, but we were scrambling to copy your moves. Holy cow. For someone who was so reluctant to get up there, you sure impressed the crowd.”

Deirdre felt her cheeks heat. “Thank you.”

She turned and went to get her own glass of water at the bar before returning to her customers and filling orders. She’d only gotten two steps when a glass was thrust at her.

Her gaze traveled up the tattooed arm holding the glass to see Tommy. Her stomach quivered.

“Jimmy said you’d be thirsty after the dance, but I don’t have the same pull he does here, so I had to wait to get a glass of water.”

What was he doing here? And bringing her a glass of water as if they were a couple. She accepted the glass and gulped greedily, unsure of how to respond to his presence. Yes, she’d invited him, but she had no plan when the words had rushed from her mouth.

“You guys were really good. A lot of fun to watch.”

“We were horrible. My instructor would’ve been correcting every step.”

“What made it fun to watch was the three of you laughing and smiling and having a good time.”

Heat crept back up her face. “Thank you for the water.” She made a move to walk around him to return the glass to the bar.

His hand on her arm stopped her. His fingers were long and warm, and the colorful ink on his forearm mesmerized her. She wanted to trace each line to see where it led. More, she wanted the story behind the designs. She forced her eyes to his face.

“Can I drive you home tonight?”

She froze. She should say no, but she didn’t want to. Something about this man made her not want to be herself, do what she should do. That would be a dangerous thing.

Then Rory’s words rang through her mind. I want you to be happy.

And she hadn’t been in quite some time, if ever. Dancing and drinking with Tommy had been fun. She smiled at him. “I’ll be getting out late.”

His fingers slid down her arm and brushed against her hand before he stepped away. “I’ll be here.”

“That would be lovely, then, thank you.” She hurried to the bar, set her glass down, and went back to work. The customers remained friendly as they became drunker. Throughout the night, Deirdre found herself seeking out Tommy, even though they didn’t interact.

He watched her constantly. If she didn’t like him, it would’ve been creepy. Regardless of what Aunt Eileen had said about not following in Moira’s footsteps, no matter how charming the O’Malley boys may be, Deirdre could admit to herself that she liked Tommy.

Tommy had spent many nights in crowded bars. Many times with the sole purpose of picking up a woman. He couldn’t, however, recall a time when he’d stayed sober in a crowded bar just to drive a woman home. He’d had a couple of celebratory beers, but once Deirdre had accepted his offer, he’d switched to water for the remainder of his evening.

He didn’t want to risk her changing her mind because she thought he’d had too much to drink. He was well aware of how ridiculous the whole thought process was. They weren’t dating and he had little chance of getting laid. She’d flat-out said she had a boyfriend.

Yet, she’d invited him to the bar tonight and accepted his ride home. He didn’t do well with mixed signals, but with Cupcake, it felt less like mixed signals and more like changing signals. He could be patient.

Jimmy stood near the bar, eyes scanning the crowd. Keeping watch over everyone like always. Tommy walked over.

“Are you on duty?”

“Not officially.”

“Then lighten up, man. It’s a party.”

“People are crazy on a night like this.”

“And the O’Learys have been doing this their whole lives. They’ll be fine.” Tommy followed Jimmy’s eyes. Moira. “She can take care of herself.”

Jimmy gave him a rare smile. “Yeah, she can. I’m her backup.”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, right. More like you want to make sure no other guy makes a pass at her. She might realize she agreed to marry a stick figure.”

“She happens to like my stick.”

Tommy shook his head. Jimmy was the oldest of the O’Malleys, and he’d always taken care of all of them, especially after their mom had been killed. He was a natural cop, following in their dad’s footsteps. Tommy had never had any such desire.

“You staying out of trouble?”

“Always.”

The conversation was routine between the brothers.

“Why are you here again?”

“Deirdre invited me.”

“Moira’s cousin? Isn’t she engaged or something?”

Engaged? That was news.

“I don’t think so. But she’s thousands of miles from home, so maybe she’s looking for company.” Tommy spoke as if Deirdre were no different from any other girl he’d pick up in a bar. Lying to himself came easy. He hoped Jimmy would buy it.

Jimmy’s stare pressed heavily on him, and he tried not to squirm. “Don’t be a dick.”

“What?”

Jimmy watched him for another minute. Deirdre sidled up to them. What timing.

“Hi. Can I get you boys refills of something? Moira said she’d stop by in a few.”

Tommy shook his head. Whenever he heard the lilt of her accent, his tongue forgot how to work.

Jimmy took up the conversation. “How long are you going to be in town?”

“The beginning of summer, I think.”

Jimmy nodded. “Fiancé waiting anxiously?”

Her cheeks grew pink. She shook her head, causing her ponytail to swish. “No fiancé.”

Tommy caught the sadness in her voice. He wanted to smack Jimmy for bringing up bad s**t.

“I must’ve misunderstood Moira.”

Like he ever misunderstood anything.

She pressed her lips together for a second and then said, “Well, if you need anything, give a yell.”

When she turned and squeezed between people near the bar, Tommy shoved at Jimmy’s chest. “And you tell me not to be a d**k?”

“I was asking the question you didn’t.”

“It’s obviously something that bothers her. It’s her business.”

Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “If you’re planning on hooking up with her, it becomes your business, and then it becomes mine.”

“I can take care of myself, too.”

“Not when it comes to women. I don’t want to see you fall for her and then lose her. She’s going back to Ireland even if she doesn’t have a fiancé waiting. That’s her home.”

Of course, Tommy knew that. He wasn’t stupid. But hearing Jimmy say it out loud sent a rock to his stomach. He straightened his shoulders. “I’ve been with plenty of women without falling apart.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at one like you look at her.”

“And how’s that?”

“The way Sean looks at Emma.”

Tommy chuckled. “Sean looks at Emma the same way you look at Moira.”

Jimmy shoved off the wall with a nod and clasped a hand on Tommy’s shoulder before moving away.

Jimmy was wrong. Tommy barely knew Deirdre. Sure, he was attracted to her and he knew in his gut that she was different, but so what? It wasn’t like he was looking to get married at this moment. One day? Yeah. He wanted a family of his own—probably even more than his brothers did.

A couple of drunks jostled by, sloshing green beer from their mugs, and Tommy decided he needed fresh air. Instead of wading through the crowd, he went into the kitchen, nodded at the cooks, and stepped out the back door to the alley. The Chicago night air was crisp with the remnants of winter.

He suddenly itched to draw. The dark alley showed evidence of drinkers and partiers: a broken beer bottle, a used c****m—at least he assumed it was used—and to-go wrappers from a fast food place down the block. Most of his drawing these days related to tattoos, but every now and then, he wanted to just draw.

Drawing allowed him to think. To process. He inhaled a breath of stinky garbage-filled air. Going back inside, he decided he didn’t need to think about starting something with Cupcake. If it happened, it happened.

But he wanted it to happen.