50. Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty
Thanks to Cillian’s recent starring role on the ten o’clock news, May met him in the snug of the Ship, once more trying to avoid unwanted attention.
After fighting her way through a crowded bar, May had lost at least a quarter of Cillian’s pint onto either the floor or the clothing of the reporters and photographers who hadn’t yet found a new story to move on to.
‘There’s fewer of them by the day,’ Rita had reassured May when she’d been at the bar. ‘They’ll all be gone by the wedding.’
May hoped Rita was right, which gave them tomorrow to clear out. She took comfort from the knowledge that, even if the vultures were still circling, Jack’s beach was private. It would take an extremely intrepid member of the paparazzi to get on there without being spotted.
‘Sorry.’ May handed Cillian his pint. ‘It was full when I bought it.’
‘Still busy out there?’ he asked, taking a sip that left him with a foamy moustache.
‘Yes, although Rita says it’s dying down a lot.’
‘Thank God for that.’
May tried to look casual as she considered where to sit. Opposite Cillian was too much like an interview. Next to him was dangerous and far too close. They had agreed to be friends, and keeping a safe distance from him seemed the platonic thing to do.
‘Sorry we’re late.’ Alice burst into the room with Kitty, Luke and Nick, saving May from her moment of indecision. ‘Solly and Sylvie collared us, asking about wedding presents.’
‘People can’t get their heads around the fact we don’t want anything.’ Kitty set her drink on the table and threw out her hands.
‘It’s because people around here love you,’ said Cillian, ‘and they want to express that in some way.’
Nick shook his head over his pint. ‘Being at the wedding to celebrate is enough for us,’ he said.
Luke nodded his agreement. ‘We were thinking of asking for donations to the community centre instead.’
‘What about setting up your homes together or going on a nice honeymoon?’ asked Cillian. ‘Presents will be handy then.’
‘We’re all working,’ said Kitty, ‘and we already have what we need.’
May loved their thoughtfulness. ‘The community centre sounds like a great idea,’ she said.
‘Honeymoons, though,’ said Cillian, ‘are important.’ He pulled two envelopes from his jacket pocket, handing one to Kitty and another to Alice.
When they opened them, each let out a yelp. May leaned forward to see what had caused the reaction.
‘You can’t do this.’ Kitty put her hand to her mouth. ‘It’s too much!’ She showed the contents of the envelope to Nick. ‘Look, it’s a trip to Italy.’
Alice grinned at Cillian. ‘How did you know I’ve always wanted to go to Norway?’ she asked.
Cillian shrugged. ‘I’ve been sneaky with my questioning since I’ve been here.
I found out you each had a few nights in a hotel booked, and decided it would be nice for you to push the boat out a bit more.
’ He waved at Alice’s envelope. ‘The tickets are open-ended, so you can use them whenever you want.’
Nick frowned. ‘This is too much, mate.’
Luke nodded. ‘We can’t accept such a generous gift. Alice and I aren’t even family.’
‘Ah, come on,’ Cillian protested. ‘My money’s about to dry up, let me make the most of it while I still can.’ He pointed at Luke. ‘And you and Alice might not be family, but you’ve both been good friends to me at a time I really needed some. That means more to me than you know.’
May wasn’t sure what to make of Cillian’s grand gesture.
She wanted to be cynical about it, deciding he was trying to buy friendship.
However, the way his hands shook as he handed over the envelopes told a different story.
This was a generous gift, given with nothing expected in return. Her heart swelled.
The others fell into excited chatter, Kitty already talking about which cities in Italy she most wanted to see, Alice glowing at the thought of snowy fjords. Cillian ducked his head and let them talk, fiddling with his cardboard beer mat until May wanted to reach over and still his restless hands.
Eventually, Nick checked his watch and stood, Luke following suit. ‘We’d better let Rita lock up,’ he grinned at May and Cillian. ‘You two have a big day tomorrow, I’m guessing. There’s not long to go, and I’d love to get a sneak peek at that to-do list.’
‘No probing.’ May wagged a finger, laughing.
The group shuffled out in a chorus of hugs and goodnights, leaving only May and Cillian in the snug. The air felt thicker once the others had gone, and May busied herself stacking empty glasses so she wouldn’t have to look at Cillian.
‘You don’t have to clear up,’ he said.
‘Old habits.’ She smiled, finally sliding onto the bench opposite him.
For a long time, they sat and talked, forgetting all about Rita and her need to lock up.
Their chatter covered last-minute discussions on menus and chairs, the forecast for tomorrow’s preparation and, more importantly, the day after, the dried flowers arriving from the florist they’d met at the wedding fair.
Practical, easy things. Then the conversation drifted in other directions, to music, books, childhood memories, and May found she was laughing more than she had in weeks.
The clock above the bar ticked toward midnight, and at last Rita stuck her head round the door. ‘All right, you two lovebirds, drink up. I need to get home to my bed.’
‘Friends, Rita,’ May corrected quickly, cheeks burning.
‘If you say so.’ Rita winked and disappeared.
Cillian ignored the exchange, or pretended to, draining the last of his pint and standing. May rose too, suddenly awkward in the quiet that followed. He hesitated, shifting his weight, as though he wasn’t sure whether to shake her hand or pull her into a hug.
‘Thanks for tonight,’ he said as they reached the front door. ‘For staying. For talking. I know you’ve got no reason to give me the time of day, and I don’t take it lightly.’
‘We said we’d be friends,’ May reminded him. ‘And I meant it. Besides, there are plenty of women who’d give their right arm to be a friend to the famous Cillian McDonaugh. You could say it’s an honour.’ She grinned.
Cillian laughed. ‘I know sarcasm when I hear it. Seriously, you’re a better friend to me than I deserve, May Tyler.’
At the door, he lingered a moment too long.
May’s breath caught, and she squeezed her hands together behind her back to calm herself down.
She half-expected him to lean in, and part of her wanted nothing more.
Instead, he gave a small nod, like he was holding himself back on purpose, and stepped outside.
‘Goodnight, May.’
‘Goodnight, Cillian.’
She watched him disappear down the street, his figure swallowed by shadows, his footsteps by the hush of the sea beyond.
Only when she was sure he was gone did she step out into the night, enjoying the way the cool evening air soothed her.
Friends. That was what they had agreed to.
She touched her lips, unable to stop wishing he’d kissed her goodnight.