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Chapter Twenty-two

For a second, Niall couldn’t move, or think, or breathe.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded when he finally found his voice.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Deirdre said.

“No, you don’t,” Niall said. “There’s absolutely nothing in the world that you could have to say to me that I’d want to hear.”

Deirdre’s eyes widened under the thick line of her fringe. “I deserve that,” she said. “But please, Niall – ”

“If you came here to apologize, Deirdre, you’re about three months too late.”

“I didn’t,” Deirdre insisted. “I mean, I did, but that’s not . . . there’s something I need to talk to you about. I was hoping you’d hear me out.”

“Well, you hoped wrong,” Niall said, moving to close the door. Deirdre stepped forward and put her hand out to stop him.

“Five minutes,” she said. “That’s all I ask. Five minutes of your time to let me explain. If you don’t like what I have to say, you’ll never hear from me again. I promise.”

Niall gritted his teeth. He knew how stubborn Deirdre could be, and he saw the distinct set in her jaw that told him she would wait on his stoop all day, and he couldn’t have that. Better to get this over with and send her on her way before Cordelia came round.

“Five minutes,” he said.

Cordelia was propped up against her pillows, the ring of grass perched on her knee.

She’d hardly slept that night. And it wasn’t just the hamster wheel of thoughts circling around in her head. She hated sleeping without Niall next to her. Her bed had felt huge and lonely. She’d lain awake, staring at the ceiling, her mind turning over his proposal again and again and again.

She loved Niall, she was certain of that. But marriage? That was something other people did. People who had been together for years. It wasn’t something you decided at the end of a summer so you could stay with the man you loved.

Was it?

She had resisted calling Liz for help. She wondered a little what her mother might say. But in the end, it would be her decision to make and she didn’t know if she needed any other cooks in this particular kitchen. It seemed insane to spend the summer on an island and come home engaged. She could only imagine what she herself would say if she heard about someone else doing it. That’s crazy. It will never work. Too soon. Just wait till they really get to know each other. Divorced in six months. But if the snide remarks of other people were the only thing preventing her from saying yes . . . well, that didn’t seem like a very good reason, either.

But was Cordelia ready to jump into a marriage with Niall? She didn’t know anything about being married. She barely knew anything about relationships. But being with Niall was so effortless. Like falling into a soft bed at the end of a long day. He was what she thought about each morning when she woke up. He was what she looked forward to every day. He was her safe harbour. How could she give that up?

But what if it doesn’t work out? What if you get all the way to New York and he leaves you? Or you realize you don’t like him all that much. Or he cheats on you. Or you cheat on him. Or you become totally incompatible. Or he starts to drive you crazy leaving all his dishes in the sink.

But the more she considered those options logically, the less likely they seemed. Sure, they could grow apart and go their separate ways. But that happened with couples who had been together far longer than her and Niall – that could happen to any relationship. It didn’t seem like a good reason not to try. As for the cheating, she would never, ever do that to Niall. And she couldn’t imagine, what with his past, him ever doing that to her. As far as leaving dishes in the sink, that actually sounded more like something she would do.

Of course, he would have quirks that would bother her, and she him. Wasn’t that the nature of being close with someone? And what was the alternative? Maybe try to do long distance, but honestly, she didn’t think she could handle that. It might be fine at first, him coming to visit or her going back to Ireland, but she knew that she was the kind of person who needed someone there. Long distance was not going to work for her. And she didn’t think it would work for Niall either.

So she had two options, as she saw it. She could let fear, or the rules of society, or other people’s opinions dictate what she did with her life. Or she could jump into the deep end with him. She could say yes to his proposal. They could probably get married here on Inishmore – it might be nice, she thought. Alison could stand for her and Colin for Niall. Niall’s parents would be here. And they could do another celebration in New York. Not a big white wedding, god no, but a small party for friends and family. Her mom would be thrilled. She could see it now, Miles and Grace all dressed up, Toby and Niall bonding over a couple of beers.

And then Niall making himself at home in her little Morningside Heights apartment. cosy Sunday mornings in bed with coffee and the New York Times crossword. Watching the leaves change in Morningside Park. Pasta at Il Cantante, her favorite Italian place down the street. Maybe Niall could join one of the soccer leagues in Central Park. He could find a job at an Irish pub easily enough. She could take that job Liz had offered. They would have a life together, one Cordelia could suddenly see so clearly and wanted so badly she could taste it, like warm chocolate on the back of her tongue.

She realized with a startling certainty that she wasn’t afraid of being with Niall for the rest of her life – no, that sounded like absolute heaven, more dream than reality. And that’s what marriage was. A promise for life.

She picked up the grass ring and slipped it onto her finger. A shiver ran deep through her belly.

Did I just get engaged?

Wait, she had to tell Niall yes first. Yes. Another shiver. She leaped out of bed, tossing on the closest clothes she could find. The morning was misty and cool and she walked the long drive to the white house with her heart pounding a painful beat. Her spine was buzzing as she reached the door and she raised her hand to knock when she heard the voices, very clearly, like they were standing just on the opposite side.

She froze. Quite literally – it felt like her muscles turned to ice, her blood frosting over in her veins. Because there was a woman speaking to Niall and somehow, through pure instinct, Cordelia knew exactly who it was, though she’d never heard the woman’s voice before in her life.

“Thank you,” the woman said.

“Don’t thank me, Deirdre,” Niall said brusquely. “You’ve got your five minutes. What do you want?”