Keira woke to a pounding headache and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. She sat up and touched her head, wincing at the stream of daylight coming through the curtains. There was no way she'd get through this month if she continued to repeat this excessive drinking cycle.
Suddenly remembering the snarky text she'd sent to Zachary, Keira grabbed her phone, expecting to see an equally snappy reply. But there was none, which was even worse somehow. It was like Zach had cut her off entirely, like he'd broken it off with her without saying the actual words. Keira couldn't help but reassess her relationship, wondering if there was a relationship left at all.
Keira realized then that she'd somehow overslept and that Shane would be arriving any minute. A sense of panic swept through her as patches of memory resurfaced in her mind of her inebriated state last night, of her jealousy toward Tessa. Had she said something to Shane about it? Something that may have betrayed her attraction toward him? Her memories were too sporadic for her to rely on them.
Leaping out of bed, flustered, Keira grabbed her towel before realizing she didn't even have enough time to shower. She'd have to get through the entire day feeling grubby as well as hungover.
She dressed quickly, lancing pain shooting through her head with every hurried movement, then rushed downstairs.
"Morning," Orin said brightly from behind the bar as she emerged into the pub at the bottom of the staircase. "What can I get you for breakfast?"
"I'm so sorry, I'm in a rush," Keira said, yanking on her jacket. "I'll have to miss it."
The door opened then, and Shane came in. He was smiling contentedly and Keira wondered whether he and Tessa had enjoyed more than just a dance after he'd dropped her back at the B&B.
"Make sure you take this young lady out for breakfast," Orin told Shane. "She's missing the most important meal of the day."
"Honestly, I'm fine," Keira said. The thought of food was making her feel queasy. "I had a huge dinner last night."
Orin tutted and shook his head.
"We've got time," Shane said with a cheeky grin, grabbing a bar stool and sitting down.
It was as if he could tell that Keira's motivation for refusing breakfast was because of her hangover. He certainly liked putting her in awkward situations.
"I thought we had another day trip," Keira said through her teeth.
"We do, but it's just up the road," Shane replied. "It won't mess up our itinerary if we set off half an hour after schedule."
Keira had no arguments left, so she pulled up a bar stool and sat beside Shane.
"Excellent," Orin said, clapping. "What can I get you both? Eggs? Toast? Sausage? Bacon? Hash browns?"
"Toast, thanks," Keira said, selecting the plainest thing on offer that she might just be able to stomach.
Shane leaned into her. "He means all of the above," he explained. "It's called a fry-up. It's a great hangover cure."
Keira threw her arms up. She felt like there was no point arguing with these two. Between them they would make her obese by the end of the month. "Fine."
Orin disappeared into the kitchen to cook the fry-ups.
"Why aren't you hungover?" Keira asked Shane, leaning her elbow on the bar and propping her heavy head up on her hand. It came out like an accusation.
"Irish men don't get hangovers," Shane replied. When Keira gave him a look, he burst out laughing. "Isn't that what you're going to write in your piece? That we're all stereotypes with beer bellies?"
Keira just shook her head. Maybe in an hour or so, once the throbbing in her brain had subsided somewhat, she might be in the mood to deal with Shane and his constant teasing.
Delicious smells began to emanate from the kitchen and Keira's stomach rumbled in anticipation. Orin emerged with two enormous plates filled with food; fried sausages, fried mushrooms, fried tomatoes.
"That's quite a breakfast," Keira said looking at the plate in front of her. It was a long way from the iced green tea and spinach juice she usually grabbed on the way to the office.
"This is the secret to handling our booze," Shane said, laughing. "Start the day right and you'll be able to go all night."
Keira instantly tensed, wondering if Shane had been alluding to a night between the sheets with Tessa. She wanted to question him about it but knew she really had no right to. Plus, she didn't want to know what kind of emotion it might bring up in her.
They finished their breakfasts and went to get into the car. Remarkably, Keira felt significantly better. Her head wasn't pounding nearly as much as it had been on waking.
"So where are you taking me today?" Keira asked as they drove along the road through the now very familiar terrain, past debris left from last night's party.
"The Cliffs of Moher," Shane replied. "Ever heard of them?"
Keira shook her head. "Let me guess," she said, recalling the Burren from yesterday, "they're not actually cliffs."
"Oh, they're cliffs, all right," Shane said. "They filmed a bit of Harry Potter out here."
"Classy," Keira replied drily.
They drove out of Lisdoonvarna and along the narrow road, passing fields and hillsides as they went. Keira was too hungover for conversation, and so Shane put the radio on instead, where a female newsreader spoke Gaelic.
"Can you speak Gaelic?" Keira asked.
Shane gave her a look. "Of course I can. That's like asking a Spaniard if he can speak Spanish!"
Keira blushed and went back to her curled up position, gazing out at the rolling countryside.
The road was very bumpy, dipping at times in a way that made Keira's stomach flip. They were heading upward, spiraling and weaving up the tree-lined hillsides. Keira was glad she hadn't had to negotiate such a landscape on her drive from the Shannon airport; she might just have had a heart attack on the way. Shane, on the other hand, seemed very confident on the roads and he negotiated them expertly, which helped calms Keira's nerves, though she still felt like she was going to lose her breakfast any second.
Finally they reached the top of the hill and pulled into the parking lot. As Keira got out of the car, she saw an unusual building built into the side of the mountain with a grass-covered roof. It was a bit like a Hobbit house.
Wind ripped through Keira's hair and clothes as she walked beside Shane along the hilly terrain, using the flimsy railings around the cliff edge to guide them along the trail which overlooked the beaches below.
As they went, Keira thought it was breathtakingly beautiful, with a view that stretched on for miles and miles.
They stopped to take a breather, and Keira clung to the railing for support as she looked out at the raging ocean.
"That's the Atlantic," Shane explained from beside her. "Those are the Aran Islands," he added, pointing across the vast blue expanse. "And the other side there are the mountains." He crouched a little and came very close to her, pointing at a row of peaks she could just make out in the distance. "The Twelve Pin mountain range."
Keira felt her heart begin to race from the proximity to Shane. She took a step away, relieved to break the moment on one hand but instantly missing it and craving it again on the other.
"Want to go spelunking?" Shane asked.
"Is that when you swim in underwater cliffs?" Keira asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'll think I'll pass, thanks."
"You're not very adventurous, are you?" Shane accused her.
"Hey," Keira said with mock affront. "I'm an American abroad. Do you know how many of us never even get a passport?"
"Okay, I'll give you a point for having made it abroad. But I bet you've never climbed a cliff like this."
"Nor do I have any desire to," Keira said.
"Are you kidding me?" Shane exclaimed. "Climbing a beauty like this is incredible! It focuses everything down so narrowly. It's just you and the cliff. You and nature." His eyes were sparkling as he spoke.
"You've climbed this cliff?" Keira asked, not quite believing him.
Shane nodded. "And the Twelve Pins. Snowdon. Ben Nevis."
Keira was secretly impressed to discover this hobby of Shane's. But she wasn't about to let him know that. "Sounds a bit pseudo-macho to me. Man risking life and limb to conquer nature rather than just being at one with it."
Shane folded his arms. "And that's you, is it? At one with nature, Miss NYC?"
Keira looked away, ignoring him. They both fell silent, looking out to sea side by side.
Finally, Shane put his hands in his pockets and rocked back onto his heels.
"The sunsets here are the best you'll ever see," he said a little coyly. "If you didn't have to be at the festival every night I'd take you to see one."
Keira looked over at him, frowning. "That sounds suspiciously like a date."
Shane pulled a look of mock disgust. "You're barking up the wrong tree there, lassie, let me tell you."
Keira's cheeks tingled as she smiled to herself.
"So," Shane said. "What are you going to say in your piece about the cliffs?"
Keira looked back out over the beautiful scene. Just like before at the Burren, Keira felt a shift in herself, ever so slight but definitely perceptible. The air was so fresh compared to the polluted New York City air she'd known her entire life that it almost felt as if she were breathing in unadulterated oxygen, and it was making her giddy. Instead of craning her head to see the tops of skyscrapers, she was glancing out for miles at unbridled natural beauty, at nature unspoiled by man. Her ability to trash the place was wearing down.
"I don't know yet," Keira replied. "I'm having a bit of writer's block." It was the closest she could come to the truth without giving away the fact she was supposed to be mocking this place and the people within it. "Hopefully I'll get some good interviews tonight. The assignment is supposed to be first-person accounts, really. People's experiences of the festival. Whether they've found long-term love or not. Marriage. That sort of thing."
Shane smirked. "You don't think you'll find what you're looking for?"
Once again, Shane's question had some kind of underlying judgment contained within it. Keira had started to recognize the habit he had for doing that. It was almost as if he phrased statements and opinions as questions, forcing Keira to either refute or agree. She wondered whether it was an Irish trait, or specific to Shane.
She shrugged and leaned against her elbows on the railing. "I don't know yet. So far I see a lot of people having a good time. I don't know if anyone here is looking for love."
"What gave you that impression?"
"Well, it's all just drinking and eating, music and games. It's all a bit bachelorette party."
Shane laughed then. "You sound so disdainful."
"Because I am," Keira replied. "How do people think they're going to find The One when they're passing out drunk on Guinness every night? They'd have more luck coming out here into the real world. It's such a shame when they're surrounded by so much natural beauty."
She paused, and saw that Shane was watching her out of the corner of her eye. She didn't want to turn to him and fully take in his smug expression.
"I think our country might just be rubbing off on you," he said.
Keira ignored him. He was right but she certainly wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
"Anyway," Shane said after an uncomfortably long pause. "You'll have plenty of chances to speak to people tonight as I won't be at the festival getting in your way."
"You won't?" Keira said, looking at him for the first time in a while. She became aware suddenly of how much she wanted him there, how much his absence would be felt. The sensation shocked her in its ferocity.
Shane shook his head. "I can't. I have other things to do. And you know your way around now. You don't need me holding your hand."
Keira couldn't help but wonder about these other things he needed to do. Was it Tessa? Were they seeing each other again tonight? The thought ignited jealousy inside of her.
"I thought you were supposed to keep me safe," she replied. "Not leave me alone in the midst of amorous, drunk revelers. What have you got to do that's so important?"
Shane's face turned serious. He didn't answer her question. "I'd have thought you'd have gotten sick of me and want some time alone."
"Is that your way of telling me you've gotten sick of me?"
There was a pause, then Shane replied with, "Maybe a little."
Keira's mouth dropped open in shock. She couldn't tell if Shane was joking or not, but he certainly sounded serious.
"Have I said something to offend you?" she asked.
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe."
Keira remembered the way Shane had become drawn and insular during their trip to the Burren. She'd put her foot in something then, offended him in some way, but he hadn't said how. Now she seemed to have done it again.
"Will you tell me what it is?" Keira said. "Because I seem to keep doing it and I don't know why."
Shane stretched up against his elbows on the fencing. He took a deep breath, then looked over at Keira. "If you must know, I have to pay my respects to someone," he said.
"Oh," Keira replied, deflating. Her voice softened. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Shane shook his head. "Not with you."
He turned then, heading along the trail, leaving Keira standing there shocked and confused. With no choice, Keira followed him, feeling wounded, unsure of what she'd said or done to provoke such a strong rejection from him. She walked the rest of the trail with her tail between her legs.
*
Back in her room later that day, Keira sat at her desk with her laptop open in front of her. She needed to get some work to Elliot and Nina but was struggling to find anything to say about the trip to the Cliffs of Moher. Not to mention her mind was still reeling from the offense she had somehow caused Shane.
Outside in the streets, the festival was gearing up. She could hear live music from a troubadour on the street corner. She began typing.
I hope to never hear the sound of an accordion again in my life. On my second evening, the sad sound of a lonely troubadour floats through the crack in my bedroom window. I wonder what he's done to alienate the rest of the musical community, why he's decided to go it alone when every other second person in Lisdoonvarna plays a violin or fiddle or banjo and takes every opportunity to join in and show off their skill. Perhaps the troubadour knows something the rest of us hapless romantics do not, or refuse to: we are alone and will remain that way.
She paused. It sounded catty. There was no creativity involved in berating this place and it was starting to make her feel bad. But it was the sort of tone Elliot seemed to like and so she carried on in the same vein before sending it off.
Elliot replied a few moments later.
This is great, Keira. Make sure you get some more interviews tonight. We need some more first-person accounts.
Keira sat back in her chair absorbing his words. It was the first-person accounts she was struggling with. It felt too mean to speak to people expressly for the purpose of bashing them later. But that was what she was here to do.
With a sigh she collected her purse, sliding her pen and notebook inside. She was going to miss having Shane by her side tonight, and her enthusiasm for the work at hand was starting to wane.
As she left her room and descended the staircase, Keira wondered what exactly this place was doing to her.