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“That’d be grand!” Colin exclaimed. “Shoot from the left, that’s my good side.” He winked and Cordelia rolled her eyes, grinning. Colin jumped up onto the stage and Niall settled in behind the bar to watch.

“Welcome, friends from near and far,” he said into the microphone and the crowd hushed. “Thanks for coming out on this fine Irish evening.” Rain slapped against the windows and there was a smattering of laughter. “I’m Colin Doyle, Inishmore’s grandest and sexiest musician.”

There were some cheers and Darragh shouted, “Boyo, I’ve known you since you were a wee lad who didn’t know which hand to piss with. Get on with it!”

“Thanks for that reminder, Darragh,” Colin said dryly. “Next pint’s on me.”

He slipped his guitar strap over his head and took his seat next to Fergus and his bodhran. Fergus perched the drum on his knee, beater at the ready. There was a woman Niall didn’t know playing the flute and old Cormac Kelly with his fiddle. Eoghan Sullivan had brought his melodeon, an Irish button accordion, and Saoirse Ryan had her mandolin.

Colin nodded at Fergus, who started up a beat on the bodhran. They began with “The Wind That Shakes the Barley,” and as the music filled the room, Niall saw Cordelia slip from her chair and crouch by the door. She brought her camera to her eye and Niall wondered if she thought this seisiún some kind of quaint, silly tradition or if she found the music at all appealing. He hoped Colin would play “Out on the Ocean” at some point. That was one of Niall’s favorites.

It had been a while since he’d been to a seisiún. It’d been a while since he’d done anything fun at all, to be honest. The music flowed and rippled and lightened the room, keeping at bay the gloominess from outside.

Darragh signaled for his next pint and then a few orders had to be taken and some food run out to the tables. When Niall looked again, Cordelia was in a different spot, in the far corner of the room, taking a photo of the bar. He hoped she wouldn’t take his picture—he should have asked her not to. Niall didn’t much like seeing himself in pictures anymore.

When the musicians had finished “A Fig for a Kiss,” Colin signaled it was time for a quick break. Niall poured them all drinks, on the house, of course.

“So,” said Cormac, taking a sip of his Guinness. “Looks like you’ve settled in nicely.”

“Mm,” Niall said.

“Will we be seeing you in the currach races over Pátrún?”

“Oh, I—”

“Of course, Cormac, you daft prick,” Colin said, throwing his arm around Niall’s shoulders. “We’ll be on a team as usual. Inishmore’s Finest Rowers.”

Cormac laughed. “Colin Doyle, I could beat you in a currach race with one arm tied behind me back.”

“All right, you two,” Niall said, shrugging Colin off and handing him a pint of Galway Bay. He poured one for himself—this was a night of good craic, after all. Colin and Cormac clinked glasses as Alison and Cordelia approached the bar.

“Another glass of cabernet?” Niall asked them.

“Yes, please,” Cordelia said.

“No, thanks,” Alison said. “I’ve got to be getting Róisín home.” They looked over to where Róisín was dozing at the table, her chin drooping to her chest, her hand clenched around an empty tumbler. “Could one of you make sure Cordelia gets to the cottage okay?”

“Course!” Colin said.

Cordelia beamed. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright—she was quite pretty, Niall had to admit. Colin had been right about that. Her camera still hung from her neck and she pushed the sleeves of her sweater up where they kept slipping down.

“Thanks. You guys are amazing!” she gushed to Colin and Cormac.

“Excuse me!” The brunette was waving her hand to catch Niall’s attention.

“Looks like somebody’s got himself an admirer,” Cormac said.

Niall shrugged and motioned for Shauna to take the table. “No use in playing around when you’re not interested in the game.”

“If I had your looks, boy,” Cormac said, “I’d be playing in every game there was to be had.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall said, waving him off, embarrassed. He watched with relief as the American girls paid their tab and left, then took a long drink of his beer.

“We’d best be getting back on,” Colin said. The two of them grabbed their drinks and headed back to the stage.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Cordelia asked, gesturing to the open barstool.

“If you like,” Niall said.