Pull At My Heart Read online

  “No, I didn’t lose it. I just came in here randomly.”

  “Randomly?”

  “Yeah, I’m not stalking you, I swear,” she says with a nervous laugh, as if I might not believe her. “What are you doing here?”

  “This is my pub,” I tell her, feeling a little proud about that for the first time in forever.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, it’s been in the family for a long time. Eoghan Murrough,” I remind her, and point at myself.

  “That’s incredible. So…what? You’re a part-time taxi driver, part-time pub owner or something?”

  “Something like that,” I answer, not wanting to get into my complicated situation. “How’s the lasagna?”

  She cues up another bite on her fork. “Delicious. No offense, but I didn’t have high expectations for it.”

  True pride radiates in my chest, but I play it off. “Oh, that’s fair. I wouldn’t trust it, either. My cooking skills are mediocre at best.”

  “You made this?” she asks, and her rosy lips stretch out into that smile I’ve already come to adore.

  I nod and then snag a chip off her plate and pop it in my mouth. It’s brazen, considering we barely know each other, but I like keeping her on her toes. Her mouth drops open a little bit but her eyes light up. “Been around town today?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I left the hotel and walked down to…what do they call it?” She pauses for a moment and then blurts out in hard cold American, “An lard.”

  I can’t hold in the laugh that rips through my body. Her absolutely adorable butchering of an lár is the highlight of my day. I close my palms together at my chest and look up at the ceiling. “I swear to God, if you keep trying to speak Irish, I’ll never laugh at anything else inappropriate as long as I live.” And then cross myself for good measure.

  She raises an eyebrow, and it looks like she might throw a punch. “Let me guess, no ‘d’ on the end, Eoghan,” she says, emphasizing my name, showing off the way she can now pronounce it perfectly. I like the sound of my name coming out of her mouth.

  I shake my head and try to calm my laughing fit. That’s when I notice the empty Guinness pint glass. I stare at it for a few long seconds. “Ruth!”

  Juliana startles at that, rightly so.

  Our one and only waitress comes over from the bar. “What is it?”

  “Did you serve this lass a Guinness?”

  Ruth looks from me to Juliana and back to me.

  “I did,” she finally answers.

  “Oh no. No, no, no. Is this your first pint in Ireland?” I ask Juliana.

  “Yeah,” she replies. “And it was seriously the best beer I’ve ever had.”

  I shake my head in disgust. “You’re in Cork, lass, not Dublin. It should have been Murphy’s. Not a Guinness. I wish I would have gotten here sooner. You’re a Murphy’s drinker from here on out,” I declare, and hand the empty pint glass to Ruth. She takes it back to Dylan, who’s behind the bar as always, and orders a pint of Murphy’s.

  “Oh no, I can’t have another. I’ve got to get going,” Juliana says and gets down off her stool.

  Dylan nods at her and Ruth starts working on the check.

  It’s all happening so fast and I feel like Juliana is slipping through my fingertips once again. I look back at her and think fast. “Where ya headed?”

  “I’m visiting my new office at CloudSoft Solutions. Do you know it?”

  “Is that in Ballycoom?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” she says as she pulls out her phone to look it up.

  “Do you need a lift?” I ask quickly, not willing to let her go yet.

  She looks up at me and thinks about it a little longer than I like.

  “Yeah, sure, thanks,” she says, and meets Ruth halfway to the bar to pay the bill.

  I can’t be having that. “Nah,” I say to stop them. “It’s on the house. Sorry about the Guinness.”

  She smiles at me and shakes her head. “Seriously, I don’t get it. The Guinness was so good.”

  I visibly cringe and she laughs. “You’ll see soon enough,” I reply. “Wait here, I have to run upstairs.”

  If I could freeze her in place, I would, because I feel like she might disappear into the city and into a life that I might not be a part of. And that idea is the worst part of my day.

  Julie

  Upstairs, huh? Does he live above the pub? I wait patiently as Ruth and the bartender stare at me. Most of the lunch rush has passed through, and so there isn’t much else to do besides wonder all about me. I decide to introduce myself to ease the tension and just lay it all out there.

  “Hi, I’m Julie Rodriguez. I just moved here from California. I met Eoghan yesterday.”

  Ruth smiles, comes over, and we shake hands. “I’m Ruth and this is Dylan,” she says, and points back at the bartender. He gives me another nod and goes back to work cleaning glasses.

  “Céad mile fáite,” she replies sweetly and I thank her.

  Eoghan returns and picks up my camera bag off the chair. “Ready?” he asks.

  “I am, thanks.” I turn to Ruth. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” she says with a smile, and a little bit of joy strikes me that everyone I’ve met so far is nice, including Eoghan. Before we leave, I catch Ruth and Dylan giving each other a curious look. I wonder if it’s about us.

  Eoghan leads me out of the pub, down an alley, and across the street to where the taxi is parked. Without thinking about it, I go to the back door, where I sat yesterday. He gives me a funny look and opens the passenger side door in the front.

  “Front seat?”

  “Yeah, of course. Unless you’d prefer the back?” he says nervously.

  “No, that’s great, thank you,” I reply, and get into the car. He closes the door for me and walks around to get in on his side. He puts my camera bag in the backseat and takes off, back past my hotel, and out west toward Ballycoom on a two-lane road along the River Lee.

  “What’s Ballycoom like?” I ask him.

  “It’s a satellite town. Not much to it besides some tech companies and shops.”

  “Do you think it’s a nice place to live? I have a couple of appointments to check out apartments there.”

  He looks over at me and shifts into a higher gear. “Living in Ballycoom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It depends on what you want to do in your free time. There’s not a lot to do there. Cork is better for that.”

  “Got it,” I grumble. I’m not a big fan of the suburbs. “I wish I could stay in the city instead.”

  “The city is great,” he replies.

  Don’t I know it? I’m already in love with Cork. Unfortunately, my budget likes the suburbs much more.

  “So a pub, huh? What’s that like?”

  “I don’t know life without it,” he replies. “It’s been in the family for a long time. I’ve spent more time there than I have in church.”

  “And Murphy’s…what’s that about?”

  He laughs. “You like to ask a lot of questions.”

  “Yeah, sorry. It’s a bad habit.”

  He looks back over at me. “I wouldn’t say it’s bad at all.”

  “Just wait, you’ll be annoyed soon enough.”

  “Doubtful,” he murmurs.

  “I’ve never even heard of Murphy’s. I’m guessing it’s like Guinness?”

  He huffs and then points with his finger at me with each word as he says, “It is so much better than Guinness.”

  “If it’s better than that Guinness I had back there, then I definitely want to try it. That was incredible.”

  “I can’t even hear this. You’re breaking my heart and I’ve only known you for a day. Listen here, you’re in Cork now. In Cork, we drink Murphy’s. It’s made in Cork and we don’t bother with Dublin’s bitter Guinness rubbish.”

  “Then why do you serve it in your pub?”

  I got him there. He shakes his head. “Because of yo
u feckin’ tourists. All ye want is Guinness. I may not let it pass my lips, but I’m not going to pass up on the profit. I’m not an eejit.”

  His irrational anger is so funny to me. Regardless, I have to correct him. “Hey, I’m not a tourist.”

  “You’ll always be a tourist, lass. People here are so welcoming to Americans, they’ll hear that accent of yours and ask you every day if you’re here on holiday.”

  The reality of that statement makes me groan. I don’t want to be a tourist in my new home. “Maybe I could fake the accent?”

  He has a good laugh at that. “Based on your Irish, I’m not so sure you could pull it off.”

  “I can be very determined if I put my mind to it.”

  “I’m beginning to understand that,” he says, and looks to me again. Our eyes lock for a brief moment before his go back to the road. For being brown, perhaps a little hazel, his eyes are so bright and intense. Maybe it has to do with his long dark eyelashes, or the way his brow furrows so easily, or the sharp-edged bone structure of his face. Whatever it is, his eyes overwhelm me so easily. They’re hypnotic.

  “What do you do when you’re not driving a taxi or working at the pub?” I ask.

  “This and that,” he replies, pretty much stopping my line of questioning. Then he turns the tables. “What do you do besides workin’ at CloudShapes?”

  I giggle and he looks at me curiously.

  “What’d I say?”

  “CloudSoft. CloudSoft Solutions,” I correct him and keep laughing.

  “Jaysus, that sounds like bog tissue. And what on earth do ye do at CloudSoft?”

  “Me?” I ask, and place a hand on my chest.

  “I meant the company. What do ye do?”

  “Oh, we specialize in virtualized cloud hosting and various types of SaaS.”

  “Sass? Like attitude?” he asks and scrunches his forehead.

  He’s adorable. “No. Software as a service: SaaS.”

  “Can’t you tell I’m great at tech?”

  “Stick to your day job, or should I say jobs,” I reply, and he gives me funny look.

  We pull up to an office building I’ve seen a few times in various company communications. Outside is a sign with the CloudSoft Solutions’ logo. He finds a parking spot and shuts off the car.

  “Here we are,” he says, and bends down a little to look out the windshield at the place.

  I open my purse and pull out my wallet, then look at the meter—which isn’t on. “What do I owe you?”

  “This wasn’t a taxi ride, Juliana,” he replies and I tilt my head, trying to make sense of it.

  “It wasn’t?”

  “No. I offered you a ride, because you needed one.”

  “How is that different from yesterday?”

  “You were right—your feckin’ questions are going to drive me mad.”

  “Hey,” I say jokingly.

  “Yesterday, I had to run the meter.” He shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh.”

  “Today…well, today is different.”

  “Okay,” I agree, having no more clarity about what made today so different than yesterday.

  “Do you want me to wait and drive you back?”

  I look around my new place of employment and spot Aiden’s BMW. “No, you don’t have to wait. I’ll catch a ride back with one of my coworkers.”

  He nods slightly, but doesn’t say anything. The mood goes from light to heavy, really fast.

  “Thanks again, Eoghan,” I say, and extend my hand toward him.

  He takes it in his slowly, and once again puts his other hand over our clasped hands. Air gets hard to come by as he whispers, “My pleasure.”

  I’m not sure why I feel odd leaving him without some sort of understanding that we’ll see each other again, but I don’t say anything else. I know where to find him if I need to and that’s good enough for now. Plus, I still have his number.

  I get out of the car and walk toward the front door. I quickly glance back at his car as he pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the main road that runs right through town.

  I’m on my own now. It’s time to visit my new home away from home, away from my real home back in California.

  Expats

  Eoghan

  The windows are down and I’ve got the car radio turned up. I’m singing my heart out to something that wouldn’t normally strike my fancy. A boy band or some shite. How I even know the words is beyond me, but I’m sure singing it.

  I haven’t done something like this in ages. It’s like I’ve barely had room to think, let alone get downright silly like this. Juliana’s a good influence on me. Something about her makes me smile and her wit lights me up. I’m halfway back to Cork City when I spot her camera in the backseat of the taxi. I’ll be seeing her again for sure, and that’s got me whistling.

  The pub is already full when I get back and Dylan shoots me a look from behind the bar. Fridays are always mad, starting in the afternoon and long into the night. I go right behind the bar and get to work, but I know the admonishment is coming. You’d never know my cousin works for me and not the other way around.

  “The next time you decide to drive some American lasher to Ballycoom, try to do it on a different day, ya know?”

  I give my best, “Sorry, lad,” and get to work.

  It’s going to be so packed tonight. After all, it’s wedding season and that means loads of hen and stag parties. We’re a popular stop and it’s an easy moneymaker. Especially the hen parties. I’ve been known to entice the hens with shots at five euros apiece.

  Ruth comes by in a rush and quickly transfers drinks from the bar to her tray and takes off again.

  “We’ve got to get her some help,” Dylan says as he pulls a Guinness.

  “Hire someone.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got my hands full with family stuff and the taxi. You’ve got it.”

  “I thought Seán was helping with the taxi.”

  “He is, but ya know, he’s young. He’s got a life.”

  “So do you.”

  I shake my head. No time for that these days. Juliana pops into my head, but even for someone as class as that, I’ve got too much going on.

  Ruth comes back around and barks out eight drink orders. “Got that?” she asks.

  Dylan nods and gets to work.

  “Speaking of a life,” I say as I watch Ruth walk away, “when are you gonna make your move?”

  Dylan is the most closed-off person I know, and so naturally he doesn’t say a word.

  “I’ll help you win her over. I’m feeling benevolent,” I tell him.

  “Help with the drinks,” he orders.

  “Fine, fine.” I lift a Guinness-branded pint glass off the rack and start on it, even though I hate serving the sludge.

  “What’s with you, anyway? The American?”

  “Hey brother, if you’re not talking about Ruthie, I’m not talking about Juliana.”

  Dylan rolls his eyes and continues working. We’ve got a long night ahead of us and it’s best I don’t piss off the best bartender in town.

  My oldest friend Liam and the rest of his band, the Stormy Crickets, burst through the doors, jovial and loud-mouthed as always. Since they’re the house band, they go about their business and start getting set up without needing our help.

  After they’re done setting up, Liam comes up to the bar to get a pint.

  “What’s new with you, mate?” he asks as I pour him a Smithwick’s.

  “Nothing at all,” I answer.

  Dylan overhears this and starts to laugh.

  Liam looks back at me and raises an eyebrow.

  “I have no idea why he’s laughing.” Of course I do.

  “I’m laughing because you’ve been playing chauffeur to an American.” This is payback, of course.

  Liam raises both eyebrows. “An American?”

  “Yeah, you know them pesky people from across the Atlan
tic. Come here in droves. Drink all the Guinness.”

  “Mmm. What’s so special about this American? Let me guess, she’s a female of the species.”

  Dylan laughs again and I swear this is the most boisterous I’ve seen him in weeks.

  “Go away, you baytur. Don’t you have work to do?” I tell him, which is a total rib because the man does nothing but work.

  Dylan wanders off anyway and I’m left alone with my friend, who is more than a little interested. Liam is obsessed with this kind of thing. He’s the type who falls easily in love and every time he does it, the relationship is explosive and filled with drama. That’s what makes him a savage troubadour.

  Liam doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me with this silly grin on his face.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I tell him.

  Liam doesn’t respond, but still stares.

  I can’t quite make eye contact with him. “I picked her up at the airport yesterday. She’s moving here. I’m just helping her get settled. End of story, really.”

  “You like her,” he says, smiling like a damn fool. “I can tell. What’s her name?”

  “Juliana,” I say quietly.

  He bursts out laughing. “That’s feckin’ perfect.”

  “How so?”

  “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”

  “It’s Juliana, you langer. So, shut it.”

  “She must be pretty perfect if you’re this hesitant to even look me in the eye about her.”

  “Don’t you have a set to play?”

  “You know when we go on.”

  Not for another bleedin’ hour.

  “Listen,” I start, and make over-the-top eye contact with him. “This whole thing is new. She’s new. I don’t know what’s going on. So yeah. Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”

  As the words pass through my lips, I know I’m lying, because somehow Juliana feels like a big deal.