If she onlyknewthe distance. “I’m just visiting,” I said. “It’s a beautiful country. I’ve really enjoyed my time here.”
“So are you planning to move?” Frances asked. “Or maybe he will. I thought one of Maura’s already did move out there, am I remembering right?”
These were not easy questions to answer, especially when I got the sense that Eamonn was at least partially listening, even as Michael was explaining something else about the way the heating system had been acting up in the last month.Eamonn was methodically disconnecting a series of wires, leaving each to dangle out from the bottom before he moved on to the next one.
I refused to believe I was getting erotically charged from watching a manfix a boiler. But I also couldn’t watch his hands work without thinking about his fingers inside me only a few hours before, every way he’d touched me and every way I wanted him to touch me.
“Uh, yes,” I said finally, realizing I’d never answered Frances’ question about Eamonn’s brother. But then I realized that the question had been a two-parter, and she must’ve thought I was saying yes to the first part instead.
“Oh good,” she said. “Obviously people can do whatever they like, and you’re both young. But I always think it’s a shame when Irish people move out of Ireland. I just don’t think you’re ever quite right for being away. How did you meet, if you don’t mind a nosy one?”
It would be easier to stick to the truth—wedidmeet, after all, even if it didn’t set us down the path she was clearly imagining. I tried to cast around for what version of the story made the most sense to share. Bringing his brother into things seemed needlessly complicated. I’d never been able to satisfactorily explain that coincidence to Eamonn, so I didn’t know how I would to a stranger.
“The bus stop,” I said finally. She leaned in, clearly not catching it, and I had to say it again but louder. If Eamonn hadn’t been listening before, there was no way he could miss that we were talking about him now.
“Ah,” Frances said. “Both waiting for the same bus. A classic romance story.”
Eamonn held up one of the dangling wires as if for inspection, and Michael leaned in closer. “You see that?” Eamonn said, running his finger along the frayed end of the wire. “This is what lets the boiler talk to the thermostat. Over time, it can get corroded or burnt out, and then they won’t talk anymore. That’s why it was cutting off and on—enough of a connection to work sometimes, until one day it won’t.”
“Oh dear,” Frances gasped, and Eamonn glanced up, seeming to realize that wasn’t a comforting thing to hear.
“I can rig it back up for you,” he said. “Get them talking again.”
“So we’ll have heat?” Michael said from over Eamonn’s shoulder.
Eamonn already had another tool out, kneeling down as he started to strip some of the insulation from the end of one wire.
“We’re going to need a new boiler,” Frances said, panic in her voice. “Didn’t I say that, Micky, that we’d need to buy a whole new system?”
“This one’s old,” Eamonn said, his voice gentle, like he knew it wasn’t what Frances would want to hear. I could recognize in his voice a bit of the inevitability, too, likeYeah, you definitely have to replace it. “But it did this every single winter for us, and we always got it going again.”
“Well, wasn’t your mother lucky to have a son like you,” Frances said. “Able to help around the house with this sort of thing.”
Eamonn didn’t respond to that, just continued working on the bit of wire until he seemed satisfied with how much insulation he’d stripped back. He started working the various wires back into their places, spending extra time with the one that had been the source of all the trouble.
“And technically,” he said, “shewas waiting for the bus. I only came to make sure she knew how to do it properly, and good thing I did, or she might still be sitting there.”
It took me a minute to realize he was referring back to my earlier conversation with Frances, about the way he and I had met. His tone was light, not really calling me out but just gently having a little fun at my expense. It made me feel warm, like this reallywasthe story of how we’d first met, like we had our roles down and had made an entire comedic bit out of it.
“You said you didn’t follow me,” I said.
He glanced back at me. He’d never bothered to put his boots back on and so he was still just in his socks, kneeling down on the hard floor.
“I didn’t,” he said. “But there’s a better sandwich place on the other side of town.”
Was he saying that he’d specifically chosen to grab lunch closer to the bus stop? Why…to seeme? I almost forget that we were just playing a game, pretending to this nice couple who’d offered us hospitality that we were together because it was easier that way. Even if any of this was true, and he’d altered his lunch plans to see if he could catch me at the bus stop, it didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe I’d struck him as that desperately in need of assistance. He wasn’t wrong. If not for him, who knew if I’d still be sitting there.
Eamonn had gotten the wires fully reattached, but now he was messing with another part of the system, explaining something about how if certain nozzles got dirty it would also affect the hot airflow. Sure enough, the nozzle he removed was covered in crud, and he went to start wiping it on his sweater.
I made a little sound I didn’t even know I was going to make. It was an actual cry of distress, like I’d just dropped my ice cream cone, and it had everyone turning to look at me. My face felt as hot as if the full force of the boiler had been trained on it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s just…a really nice sweater.”
“Isn’t that like a man,” Frances said. “Not even thinking.”
I was mortified. How could I possibly explain that I’d spent twenty-four hours admiring howsoftthat sweater looked, how much I constantly wanted to touch it, to pet Eamonn like he was a dog? And then to watch him about towipe greaseor whatever else on its lovely cream knit, what was I supposed to do, just let it happen?
Eamonn was looking at me, his blue eyes intent on my face, and I was surprised when he lifted the sweater up over his head and held it out to me. “Here,” he said. “I’ll trade you.”
