Aisling was feeling surprisingly chipper given it was the morning after her hen night. She’d put it down to the big glass of water Moira had told her she should get down her when she’d gotten home. She’d filled Quinn in on the Bono masks and the limousine that had ferried them about the city in style. He’d laughed as she told him about Maureen’s karaoke faux pax. His poor mammy-in-law-to-be was, by all accounts, green around the gills today, although like him her delicate state had been helped by a full Irish. Mrs Baicu, the guesthouse’s weekend cook had put a good lining on the O’Mara women’s stomachs after which Maureen had announced, once she’d deposited Roisin at the airport, she was going home where she’d be receiving no calls or visitors for the rest of the day. Aisling, having finished relaying the events of her evening had reminded Quinn about this, their dance lesson, and he’d groaned into the receiver. ‘Can’t we give it a miss tonight, Aisling?’
She’d adopted a high-pitched timbre he was coming to recognise as one meaning she wasn’t to be pushed on the subject. ‘No,’ she’d said, ‘they could not cancel because there would be a cancellation fee. The Lozanos were busy people and, as such, they might not be able to fit them in again on short notice. And,’ the pitch went up several notches, ‘do I need to remind you the wedding is in less than two weeks?’ Quinn had decided he was best to go with the flow and hadn’t argued, which was why he was here now learning a routine to perform with Ash in front of all their friends and family. Was he happy about it? No, he was not. He felt like a complete eejit for one thing and knew his brothers would never let him live the moment down. Sure, he could imagine the names they’d be coming up with, ole swivel hips and the like. He knew why she had her heart set on salsa. It was his own fault and the knowledge of this irked him even more. He’d won her over with a salsa dance in this very studio, but it had been for her eyes only. It was no good telling her he felt ridiculous though, her mind was made up. Come February the fourteenth, they’d be performing the Latin American dance in front of an audience of family and friends. He was beginning to dread the fecking wedding.
‘Aisling, Quinn,’ Maria said, in a manner managing to be both sultry and smooth, which always made Aisling think of Galaxy chocolate. ‘You are not feeling the music in here.’ She put her hand on her breast and Aisling elbowed Quinn. ‘Remember, you’re nearly a married man.’
‘Salsa,’ Antonio stated passionately, ‘connects you with others. It is sexy and energetic. We come together to be our true selves and to be in the moment. Salsa is magic.’
‘Jaysus, feck, he knows that little speech off by heart,’ Quinn muttered, receiving a sharp elbow once more.
And on the count of three, away they went again. It was going to be a long night, thought Quinn as he stuck his bottom out and quickstepped toward Aisling.
Chapter 24
Aisling let Moira daub the deep conditioning treatment on her head. She’d asked her sister to give her a facial but she was going the whole hog massaging the conditioner into her scalp. She closed her eyes, feeling her shoulders relax. ‘You’re pretty good at this.’
‘Thank you,’ Moira said, piling her sister’s hair on top of her head before disappearing into the kitchen. ‘I need the cling film.’
‘Why?’
She returned with the box and pulled a length from it before ripping it off the serrated edge. ‘I’m going to wrap it around your head so it keeps your scalp warm, it makes the treatment more effective.’
‘Will you leave me holes to breath?’ Aisling was alarmed.
‘I’m not going to mummify you, you eejit.’ She covered her sister’s scalp in the cling film and then told her to go and knot a towel around it.
Aisling disappeared into the bathroom to do as she was told. She pulled the towel off the rail and twisted it into a turban before glancing in the mirror. Jaysus, if those circles under her eyes got any deeper, she’d look like one of those little red pandas. She’d not been sleeping properly for ages now, not since Quinn proposed. The problem was, each time she was about to nod off, she’d remember something she had to do between now and Valentine’s Day and her eyes would fly open and she’d begin panicking. It was a vicious cycle and she didn’t know how to calm herself down. She leaned into the mirror and whispered.
Dear Aisling,
I’m getting married in a week and a half and instead of feeling excited about what should be the most amazing day of my life, I’m terrified something’s going to go wrong. Please give me some advice as to how I can shake this feeling. Oh, and any tips on how to stop Mrs O’Flaherty trying to tempt me away from my Special K and over to the dark side would be appreciated too.
Yours faithfully,
Me
Mrs Flaherty, their apple-cheeked breakfast cook who worked Monday to Friday was not impressed with the weight loss challenge Bronagh and Aisling had inadvertently undertaken thanks to Moira. She was a woman who did not believe in dieting, although apparently she was partial to the odd bet,
