24. Amy
Amy
Cobh is glorious. So is having Kerry’s hand in mine as we walk around. He’s not in a suit for once, instead in a sweater and dark blue jeans, looking delectable. It’s the first bit of normalcy that we’ve had as a couple.
I need that. Desperately. The bits of sunshine peeking through the clouds, the ocean breeze whipping through my hair, the smell of seasalt air around me.
It’s been a long few months, and frankly, I feel at the edge of burnout.
I miss the familiar. My routine, my classes.
But I know part of the issue is that I haven’t made a new routine yet. Everything keeps changing too much.
But, once we get back from our honeymoon, the grand ball will happen, and then Kerry promises that things will calm down. A new normal. A time to settle into my new life with him.
Maybe this honeymoon is just a peek into that future.
We drive only a couple minutes from our cottage to downtown Cobh. We probably could’ve probably walked. But it’s far enough away from the town that it’s more private and peaceful, which is nice.
Rows of brightly painted houses line the cobblestone streets.
I take in the sights of the ocean in the near distance as Kerry’s hand warms mine.
A historic cathedral sits on the hill, overlooking the city like an ornate angel.
Lots of other people mull about, snapping pictures and chatting loudly.
Kids run around, dashing between groups of people as their parents stroll behind, keeping tabs on them.
Kerry pulls me into a pub for dinner, his hand on my lower back.
It’s a full pub, the chatter of happy patrons filling the space, but we’re able to find a table tucked into the corner.
For the first time since my grandmother first told me I’d be married off, I feel normal again.
With average people, in an ordinary setting.
Kerry looks more like a casual, charming man rather than a mafia overlord.
Well, as normal as he can be with his dashing good looks.
“You should try a Guinness.” Kerry pokes my arm.
I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t really like beer that much.”
He lifts his eyebrows to match mine in challenge. “But you’re Irish now.”
I hesitate. This feels like a trick question. His gaze upon me is intense, and I feel my resolve cracking. Besides, that way I can at least say that I’ve tried it. “Okay. I’ll give it a go.”
Kerry’s entire face lights up. My palms feel a bit clammy at the thought of what I’ll do if I don’t like it.
Do I lie? This is obviously a pretty important cultural thing.
I don’t want to offend him. Or Marjorie.
Or all of Ireland. Irish people are pretty passionate, especially about Irish things. Guinness being at the top of that list.
Kerry waves down our waiter, ordering two Guinnesses, and then some fish and chips, with a small side of seafood chowder.
“I’m not sure I can eat all of that.” I chuckle.
Kerry just shrugs. “It’s okay if you don’t. You just have to try the local seafood here. It’s non-optional.”
I laugh, but I can tell my husband is completely serious about this. It doesn’t take long for our beers to arrive in big, glass pints. Kerry looks giddy, his eyes tracking my face with a wild excitement gleaming in them.
I take a sip, and… okay, it’s not as bad as I feared. It’s nice after walking around in the sunshine for the past few hours. As far as beers go, it’s good. But I can still safely say I’m a wine kind of gal. “It’s…good.”
Kerry raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I don’t think it’s my preferred drink, but it’s not bad.”
He chuckles and shrugs. “Good enough, I suppose.” He leans in, tapping his fingers on the shiny surface of the table. “So…why don’t you tell me about this show that you and the boys are going to subject me to?”
Ecstasy runs through me at the thought of getting to talk about my favorite show. Time flies as I chat about it, and soon, food is being set before us.
Okay, Kerry was right. This food is tasty.
It’s greasy, which is just what I need after a long day.
My husband seems relieved that I’m enjoying it so much, like accepting his culture’s food meant accepting him.
I reach over and squeeze his hand, and he returns it with a squeeze of his own, a smile shared between us.
Kerry takes my hand as we walk out once we finish eating and pay.
His thumb rubs the back of my knuckles as we head down a hill, strolling along the cobblestone streets.
I don’t realize we’re nearing the ocean until I can hear it.
I gasp as a thrill runs down my spine, making me straighten.
Kerry laughs and squeezes my hand again.
“I love when you get excited like that.”
Relief and joy washes over me at his words.
While no one’s ever directly told me, I can tell that my overexuberance often upsets people.
They’re uncomfortable by it, by how much it is, how loud, how overenthusiastic, like a child.
It’s not what it’s supposed to be. And that’s hard, to have to hide my joy over something.
His words heal a part of me that I didn’t know was hurting.
But, by the twinkle in his eyes, I think Kerry knew there was a wound there. He makes me feel more seen than I ever have before.
Cobh feels like our own little bubble of paradise for a few hours as we stroll around.
We talk about everything and nothing, but for a lot of it, we just sit in comfortable silence, just watching the water together.
There isn’t a beach, per se, just a dock, but the street goes right along the water.
It feels like a holy moment in time. The sort of memory we’ll be talking about the rest of our lives.
Vanilla ice cream drips down my chin as I hold a cone with one hand, still holding Kerry’s with the other. Kerry laughs and wipes it away with his thumb, licking off the sugar mess as he winks at me. I huff and shove him playfully, making him nearly lose his balance as he laughs.
We finish our ice cream just in time for the sun to begin to set, so we head away from the water and further into the city, but we don’t get far before we’re stopped in our tracks.
The sound of a fiddle suddenly pierces the air, a man’s singing then occupying it.
I look down the street, seeing a small group of people forming around the busker, and I clap my hands as we join them. Could this day be any more perfect?
As if Kerry hears my thoughts and takes it as a personal challenge, he grabs my hands and pulls me into his chest, spinning me around to the beat of the music.
I laugh, the joy bubbling up inside of me straight from my soul, as he twirls me around to the sound of the fiddle.
Other couples notice and decide to join us, until there’s a whole group of people spinning and dancing on the street by the water.
Kerry laughs, too. He looks free, almost boyish, as we dance. My heart seizes at how happy he seems, his elation lighting up his handsome face.
I want to see him with this expression for the rest of my life. I realize I’ll do anything for him. Anything to have these kinds of moments with him, over and over.
As we walk back to the car, hand in hand, I feel lighter than air. Kerry’s still smiling, smaller now, and it’s somehow even more intimate.
It’s quiet for our two minute drive back to his mother’s cottage.
I think about what I thought a life with Kerry would be like when we first met, and I can honestly say I thought it’d be the opposite of this.
I always pictured it how my grandmother lived: with hollow luxury.
I look up at the cozy cottage as we pull into the driveway.
It’s nothing fancy or grand. But it’s filled with so much love and warmth that it’s anything but hollow.
This is what a life with Kerry will be like. I couldn’t be more thankful.
I wish I could’ve met his mother. I can feel her in the cottage, see her in how it’s decorated. Maybe if she hadn’t died, Kerry wouldn’t have had to become so detached from his emotions.
Maybe it’s foolish of me, but I meant what I said to him on the ride here.
I don’t care if he’s in the mafia or not.
I know Kerry won’t do anything stupid to put us into danger.
Well, not much danger, anyway. He’ll take care of me.
And, yeah, maybe I should prioritize morals more, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Not after putting everything and everyone first for so many years.
I’ve finally found this one person that makes me undeniably happy, and I refuse to let him go.
Kerry hops out like the car is on fire, making me jump.
He sprints around the car just to open my door for me before I can.
He gives me a mischievous grin and holds out his hand.
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head as I slide my hands in his.
He helps me out, locking his fancy European car that I don’t even know the name of.
There’s a few grocery bags waiting for us on the front step. Kerry guides me with a hand on the small of my back, scooping them up. I arch my brow at him as glasses clink together from within.
“What?” He laughs.
I look at the bags in his hand and then back at him. “What are those?”
He smirks and lifts up one shoulder with a shrug. “I may have ordered us some things while we were out.”
I chuckle and scoff as we go inside. “What sort of things? That could mean anything when it comes to you.”
“True. It could.” He flashes me a grin but doesn’t offer any other answer. I roll my eyes at his purposeful vagueness, but can’t stop the smile that lifts my lips.
We left a light on in the kitchen before we left, guiding us into the otherwise dark house. Kerry sets the bags on the counter before turning to kiss me on the forehead. “Go and sit on the back porch. It’s always been my favorite spot in the house. I’ll be out in a bit.”