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“I told you the night we met that I very rarely say things I don’t mean. I used to hate that fecking flat, you know. But when you’re in it... I don’t know. You make it feel like home.”
“But I won’t be here a lot of the time.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “It’s knowing you’ll be back. That, and I’m sure you’ll have your things all over the place to keep me company while you’re gone. Besides, it’s been a few weeks since I’ve found one of your socks lying around, and I kinda miss it. So... what do you think?”
She frowns, brow furrowed in thought, and I discover that I am still a brow-furrowing man.
“Do you have a Christmas tree? Or is it too much trouble with Sebastian?” she says.
“A Christmas tree?”
“Yes, a Christmas tree!”
“Raine, why are you talking about Christmas trees right now?”
She gives me an exasperated look. “I’ll obviously be home for Christmas! This may surprise you, but for someone who hardly ever stays put, I amveryenthusiastic about decorating for holidays.”
I sigh. “Just to clarify, that is a yes on the moving in with me?”
She looks at me as if it’s preposterous I’d even ask. “Yes, it’s a yes!”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
She grins at me, and I grin back, and then she says, “Can you kiss me? I’d kissyoubut I have a half-finished tattoo on my thigh and would rather not move.”
I stand up, careful not to touch anything with my hands when I kiss her. I’ve never been more grateful to have a private studio, because we must look ridiculous with my hands held up in the air at my sides.
When I sit back down I give her my sternest look. “No more surprises, ciaróg. I’d like to finish this tattoo and take you home so you can get started throwing your socks all over the place.”
She rolls her eyes. “It isn’tthatbad.”
“It is, ciaróg. It’s that bad.”
“And yet youstillasked me to move in with you.”
“That’s how much I love you,” I say.
She smiles at me. And that mouth... I have no idea what she’ll say next.
But I can’t wait to find out.
December
Twenty-Eight
Raine
When I step inside the pub, the first thing I notice is the conversation. It’s loud, with vibrant laughter and lively debate that makes me want to join in, even though I can’t make out the words. The Local is busier than I expect, even for a Friday night in Ireland, but this has become our new normal.
I cross the pub, take a seat at the bar, and after ordering a Guinness from Ollie, pull my phone from the pocket of my coat to text Jack. When the screen doesn’t illuminate, I instinctively reach for the phone charger he always keeps behind the bar, only to find it isn’t there.
“Welcome home, Raine,” Ollie says when he fills my pint glass halfway. He sets it aside and moves down the bar to the next customer. While I wait, I peer around the pub. It’s clean and well-lit and filled with things to see. In addition to the chalkboard menu and the two Irish flags on the ceiling, the walls are decorated with art and photos and vintage items and knickknacks I’ve collected from all over. And speaking of things to see, there are people everywhere I look. I don’t think I could have stumbled upon somewhere livelier ifI tried. I ought to get up and go looking for Jack, but I’ve been traveling for the last three weeks, and now that I’m seated, I simply don’t have the will to get up.
Ollie returns a few minutes later, fills my pint the rest of the way, and sets it before me. I thank him, but he only grunts and disappears to the kitchen again.
I prod my dead phone with a finger. I’ve just finished my beer and am working up the motivation to hunt down Jack when I’m startled by a blur of movement to my right. When I turn, I find Sebastian perched on the barstool beside me.
“Hey, floofs,” I say. He swishes his tail lazily behind him, staring at me with his large green eyes as if he’s been waiting for me to come home since I left.
