“C’est la vie.” He was probably a Clifden local and would return to his life as usual. There was a good chance she’d never see Aiden again, but she’d enjoyed her first genuine interaction with a local. “I can’t believe I said Chicago. In America. Of course it’s in America, Toni. Where is the other Chicago?”

Judging by the sudden appearance of houses, Antonia reasoned that she might be approaching Letterfrack. It was the little town that Receptionist Breda came from. The streets weren’t very busy at all. Antonia slowed down to take a better look, noticing the grocery store on her right. It was closed alright. She was thankful for Breda’s little tip.

“Turn right to Connemara loop.”

The town looked pretty slow for a Thursday night and it didn’t appear to have any hotels. Or any other major businesses, for that matter.

“Turn right.”

Antonia turned slowly veered right, thankful that there weren’t any cars behind her. Several kilometers back, a few cars had to pass her on the left, but they were good enough to not honk at her. She definitely wouldn’t get this polite treatment in Chicago.

“Continue on Connemara Loop for ten kilometers,” Vera instructed. Antonia couldn’t wait to shut her off and plant her feet on solid ground.

“What if I modeled Augusta’s boyfriend after Aiden? He seems like the kind of guy I’ve been imagining.” Antonia stopped for a herd of sheep, a cute white lamb leading the pack. While she waited, she rolled the idea around in her mind. “Bryon is a sturdy man in his thirties who’s been roaming the world with a backpack and camera. He would look a lot like Aiden.”

She stalled again as the last ghostly sheep crossed the road. This herd had blue stripes sprayed onto their wool. She wondered if they were in need of a shearing or if it were some kind of identification marker. When she started the ignition again, she pulled off still thinking about Aiden. She cared about her character, Bryon, sure. But she was more concerned about handsome Aiden. Like, what was his last name? What did he do for a living? Was he single?

“Jesus, where did that come from?” Antonia knew that she had no business thinking about another man just after fleeing Derek. She wasn’t thinking about Derek’s feelings, she was more concerned about her own. If her judgement was so impaired that she almost married a cheater, she had plenty of time before getting back into the saddle. “No, this trip is not for that,” she said in a stern voice. “I’ve got to get my shit together and write a book.”

Her singular focus needed to be getting Augusta into the arms of Bryon, the only man who could help her crack the sex trafficking story in Thailand. She was still uncertain about the plot. The months of research she’d done on Bangkok had been interrupted by the Migrant Crisis of 2013. She started reading up on the ethnic Muslim group from Myanmar making their perilous escape from government brutality. Antonia doubted how much she knew about the very real-world tragedy in Southeast Asia, but was compelled to include it in her novel.