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Cordelia stood on his doorstep, listening hard.

Niall’s arms were crossed so tight over his chest, he thought he might be cutting off his circulation.

Deirdre’s pink-painted mouth turned down and her face puckered. Niall knew that look.

“I fucked up, okay?” Deirdre said. Well, she was acknowledging that, at least. “I was a complete and utter arse. I’m so, so sorry. Truly, Niall. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I did to you.”

“Thought you said you didn’t come here to apologize,” Niall said. “Does Patrick know you’re here?”

“Patrick and I aren’t together anymore,” Deirdre said tightly. She sighed and threw out her hands. “He was a fecking nightmare, honestly. Controlling and wasteful and . . . well, you probably don’t need to hear about that.”

“Nope.”

“I bought him out and started with a new partner. The pub’s doing really well. You’d be so proud. We’re booked clean through the holiday season. And my new partner, well . . . he’s the reason I came here to talk to you.”

“Are you fucking him too?” Niall asked.

Deirdre pursed her lips. “No,” she said. “He’s Ritchie Malcolm.”

“What?” Niall yelped, the name temporarily yanking him from his anger. “Ritchie – like, the Ritchie Malcolm?” Ritchie Malcolm was one of the most famous restaurateurs in the UK. He’d opened restaurants all over the world. And he was now an investor in Niall’s pub?

It’s not your pub, he reminded himself.

“The very same,” Deirdre said, looking both pleased and relieved. Niall pulled himself together. Deirdre did not get to come to Inishmore and wave Ritchie Malcolm in his face like Niall should be cheering for her. “And here’s the thing, Nie – ”

“Don’t call me that,” Niall snapped.

Deirdre had the decency to look ashamed. “Right, sorry.” She took a breath. “He wants to open a second location. For the pub. He’s already got the perfect property scouted in London. The floor plan is basically identical and he’s got all these teams on call to start the renovations.”

“A second location?” Niall asked, dazed. “In London? Are – are you serious?”

“Yes,” Deirdre said. “It’s a great space. And Ritchie is keen to get it opened. He’s willing to do a rush job to get it running by December, in time for the holidays. But there’s one catch.” She worried at her lower lip. “He wants you to be involved, Niall. It was the food that got his attention. He wants to add a couple of new things to the menu, you know, appeal to the London crowd. And he won’t do it without you. He wants you to be the chef. Making all the calls in the kitchen. It’s what you’ve always dreamed of – ”

“Don’t talk to me about my dreams, Deirdre,” Niall snapped.

Deirdre’s expression turned mournful. “I know,” she said. “I know how much I hurt you.”

“Do you?”

She didn’t seem to know what to say to that. “I can’t change the past,” she said quietly. “But this is too good an opportunity to pass up, Niall, and you know it. Head chef in your own kitchen, serving your own food, in London! You’ll get the experience and the credibility that you deserve. Because you do deserve it. And I’m so sorry I fucked all that up for you. I know the Fallen Star was your baby. I want to make things right.”

“And are you part of this?” Niall asked acidly. “Will you be in London organizing the opening?”

“I will,” Deirdre said. “But I’m only trying to make up for the wrongs I’ve done. I’ll not be bothering you if you don’t want me to – I’ll stay out of your way completely. Think about it! Working with Ritchie fecking Malcolm. And he’s a huge fan of your food, Niall. That’s what got him interested in the first place – he read about the pub in the Times and came in for dinner one night at the bar. Patrick and I were already having, erm, issues.”

She coughed and rubbed the back of her neck, but Niall didn’t give two shits about what had happened with her and Patrick. All he could think was that Ritchie Malcolm had eaten his food. And Niall hadn’t even gotten to be there.

“Anyway, we hit it off and he immediately thought of a property he had in Camden, how perfect it would be for a second location, how great the menu would translate. We’ve been hammering out the deal all summer and there’s just one final detail left to sort out.”

“Me,” Niall said.

“You,” Deirdre agreed.

They stood in his front hall in silence for a moment.

“You can’t show up here and spring this on me, Deirdre,” Niall said. “How did you even find me, anyway? How did you know I was in Inishmore at all?”

She blushed. “Someone showed me this Instagram photographer’s work. She’s got tons of photos of you.”