Leila tilted her head to one side. She was beginning to understand what had Aisling so worked up. She had been splashing the cash what with horse-drawn pumpkin carriages, pricey photographers, a Swarovski crystal embossed dress, not to mention her insistence on splurging on all the bridesmaids’ dresses and they’d been almost as eyewatering in price as the wedding gown. She’d tried to broach how much it was all costing with Aisling a couple of times but she’d been so caught up in the dream of her day she hadn’t wanted any reality checks. A memory struck her. ‘Your dress, Ash, that’s my fault. I broke my golden rule. I showed you it before telling you what it cost. It was just so—’
Aisling held her hand up, ‘Gorgeous? I know, and you hardly had to twist my arm.’ And now I’ve gone and paid the deposit on the honeymoon too.’ She winced at the memory of the smiling travel agent handing over her credit card receipt. She’d even passed her the bowl of complimentary mints. A sure sign she’d spent up large. But again, Quinn had never asked her anything more about the honeymoon. Sure, he’d made a few vague inquiries about what it cost but he’d been content to leave the arrangements up to her.
‘You’ve kept him up to date with everything, haven’t you? I mean you guys are a dream team.’ Leila was struggling with the idea Aisling had gone ahead and booked what equated to the best of everything without once checking in with her future husband.
Aisling gave a small shake of her head and felt a current of anger at her fiancé’s lacklustre approach to their wedding. If he’d been willing to share in it all, to contribute to the planning then she wouldn’t have got herself in such a mess. The more he’d tuned out over it all, the more she’d amped things up in the bling stakes. It was very tempting to pass the blame onto Quinn. She’d like to take her anger and run with it because it was better than the sensation of impending doom she was currently saddled with. It hadn’t been him wielding the credit card like he was a Saudi prince though. Oh no, the blame for that sat squarely on her shoulders and she was not a member of the Saudi royal family, she was Aisling O’Mara of O’Mara’s Guesthouse on the Green.
‘No, I haven’t told him. He has no idea what it’s all costing and I’m petrified when he finds out he’s going to call the wedding off.
Chapter 28
Aisling got back to the guesthouse with Leila’s advice she needed to sit down and talk things through with Quinn before they went to see their bank manager ringing in her ears. It would be far better for him to find out exactly how much this wedding had depleted their finances first-hand than through some know-it-all with a name badge at the AIB she’d warned. Aisling knew she was right. She had to come clean and she resolved to go and see Quinn as soon as she’d checked in at O’Mara’s and gotten changed. The snug waistband of her skirt was a reminder of her pastry misdemeanour and besides, the conversation she was about to have with Quinn warranted comfortable trousers. There was a modicum of relief in a decision having been made as to what she needed to do but still and all, it was a confession she wasn’t looking forward to having to make.
Bronagh was sliding her arms into the sleeves of her coat. Nina was yet to arrive, Aisling realised, scanning the reception area, and Bronagh had a pinched look about her as though she’d eaten an olive thinking it was a grape. She hoped everything was alright. ‘Have you an appointment you’ve got to get to?’ she inquired, fishing for information.
‘Jaysus wept, Aisling, you look like you’ve been ravished by a mosquito. What happened to your face?’
Aisling sighed and repeated the sorry tale of cheap skincare products and her selfish mare of a sister. Bronagh listened with half an ear, commenting if Moira passed herself as an expert in the beauty stakes and got results like the ones currently decorating Aisling’s face, could she be trusted when it came to her foray into personal training? Aisling got the impression she was desperate for a legitimate excuse to get out of tomorrow morning’s stair climbing. She picked her bag up but before she could leave, Aisling repeated her question. ‘Do you have somewhere important you need to be?’ It was asked without guile and a hint of concern.
‘No, I’m in need of fresh air that’s all, Aisling.’ Bronagh flicked her eyes about the place and satisfied the coast was clear muttered, ‘I’ve had it up to here today.’ She saluted her forehead several times to prove her point before picking up a piece of paper and thrusting it in Aisling’s direction. ‘It’s enough to turn a woman to drink so it is.’ The crumbs on the desk in front of her suggested she hadn’t turned to alcohol but had found comfort in her custard cream biscuits instead. Good, Aisling thought, quietly pleased she wasn’t the only one who’d had an indiscretion this afternoon. She scanned the piece of paper, understanding dawning as to why their receptionist wasn’t her usual sunny self. Her own fingers twitched with the urge to reach for one of the custard cream
