Aiden glanced back at her, saw her tears, and set his mouth to a firm line. He reached over to pat her on the knee. “Dear me, don’t you go crying for that eejit. Liam Byrnes doesn’t deserve all of that.”

Antonia sniffed. “What’s the rest of your family like?”

“Oh they’re fine people,” he said with a smile. “I come from good, hearty folk. My mother was once a school teacher, so she raised me and my brothers with a good amount of discipline.”

“Is she the reason why you went into education?” Antonia asked.

“More or less, I suppose. I had it in my head to do anything but teach, but I turned out to be a good scholar. Clare orchestrated my path with a watchful eye,” he said with a chuckle. “If you don’t keep an eye on middle children, they drift like a rudderless boat.”

His metaphor caused laughter to bubble in her chest. “You were clearly meant for the sea, Aiden. Are you sure you want tenure?”

He nodded. “I do. This past year has made me realize I need to stay on the path. Out here—” he gestured to the open water “—lies wasted potential.”

She was unclear on what he meant by that. It seemed less to do with him and more about his father. Antonia decided to change the subject. “And how many brothers do you have?”

“I’m one of four boys. The oldest is Liam Jr., then there’s me, my brother Sean, and the youngest is Ryan. Liam is a banker in Dublin, he’s married to Mary Catherine, she’s a nice girl for him. They’ve got these twin sons who are absolute assholes.”

Antonia gasped. “You can’t say that about your nephews.”

“I certainly can. If you met them, you’d say the same thing.”

She laughed, beside herself. It was a terrible thing to say about children. “Don’t say that,” she said, trying to stop her laughter.

Aiden grinned. “They’re fucking hooligans. Everybody knows it.”

“Tell me about your other brothers,” she urged.

“Alright, let’s see. My brother Sean is a head chef at a gastropub in Limerick, he lives just down the street from our mother. He’s married to Mary Agnes and they have a twelve-year-old daughter named Soircha.”

“Wait, you have two brothers married to two Marys?”

He nodded. “And my youngest brother just got married to a girl named Catherine. Try to keep up with me,” he said, flashing her that handsome grin. He’d forgotten to take an electric razor to his beard this morning while getting ready for this excursion and she was glad. It reminded her of when they first met in Clifden. She liked seeing the one gray tuft that battled for space among the black hair. He even looked like a rugged seaman in his cable-knit sweater. “Now my niece is the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet,” he said with a wistful look in his eyes. “Soircha would love you. She would spend hours talking your ear off about books. I can’t buy her enough of them.”