Page 59 of Carson

“I’d say that’s a pretty good description.” I glance toward the nearby lake. “There are trails all around here. We should go for a walk before it gets dark.”

“That sounds nice.”

As soon as the attendant leaves us to ourselves in our room, her tears start again. She waves her arms around. “I’m overwhelmed, Carson. It’s too much. It’s too much.”

I grab her around the waist and pull her close. “Enough of that. We’ve been through all of this. Can you please just enjoy it?” I do my best not to sound exasperated with her.

Luna tips her head back and looks up at me, little drops of tears clinging to her lashes. “I will if you will.”

“Luna, I am enjoying it.”

“Fully? Or is your brother holding a part of your joy on the other side of the world?”

I release my breath through my teeth. “Okay, so how about we shake off the outside world and begin again?”

An ornery grin tugs up one side of her mouth. “Thank you so much for this trip. It’s fabulous.”

“You’re welcome. Now if you’ll allow me to show you to your quarters, ma’am.”

She pulls away from me and takes my arm when I hold it out to her.

We head up the stairs to the bedroom. She immediately goes to the windows. “Wow.”

I slide up beside her, pulling the sheer curtains back so we have a clear view.

“I’ll sleep downstairs on the sofa. This room only has one bed,” I tell her.

She glances over her shoulder at the four-poster bed behind us. She turns back toward the window. I can see the struggle going on in her mind, so I relieve her of it.

“I insist.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip.

“Stop.” I give her a gentle nudge.

“But I don’t want to wake up to this view alone, and if you’re downstairs …”

Her words trail off.

“I’ll come up whenever you’re ready. Just call out for me.”

“Promise?” she asks.

“I promise.” I draw a cross over my chest.

That is the last time I put any thought into our sleeping arrangements because it’s irrelevant. I’d sleep on the damn concrete to make her comfortable.

We enjoy our afternoon. I’ll never forget our time here. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Irish coast, but there’s something magical here in Roscommon.

The evening settles around us as we make our way along the path, surrounded by trees. Luna leads the way, and every few minutes she turns around. You can’t convince me that we haven’t stepped through a portal to the other side.

She fills the silence with tales of her travels back home. The cadence of her voice pulls me through the foliage like a siren’s call.

When we get back to our room, we shower and then order desserts and alcohol. A deadly combination.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” she admits, sitting on the other side of the couch from me. Neither of us is in our usual bedtime attire. We’re both sipping wine in nothing but fuzzy white robes.

“I’m feeling pretty darn bougie,” I tell her, clinking my glass against hers.