Epilogue
Three Months Later
Maisie walked down the street with Finn as they passed by the steady stream of shoppers in Manchester. Windows boasted the last of the autumnal displays at the arrival of November, and the wind had taken on a bitter chill, warning pedestrians that the cold weather was not only approaching—it had arrived.
Of course, Maisie hardly cared about the chilly temperatures. With her pink joggers beneath her long dress and her fingers interlaced with Finn’s, she was as warm as she’d ever been.
“We’re gonna be the last ones there, aren’t we?” she asked,
“Aye, to be sure,” Finn responded. He wore his flat cap and cardigan, though even this weather was too cold for him to pull his sleeves half-up. “We should probably hurry.”
And yet, their footsteps didn’t move any faster. They’d spent the last two weeks apart, Finn in Northern Ireland and Maisie in Boston, so clearly, neither of them was in any rush to see the next two weeks they had together fly by.
“We should come up with an excuse,” she mused. “To explain why we’re late.”
“Why? You don’t want to tell me friends the truth? ”
“What, that we were too busy kissing to get out of the car to meet them on time for lunch?” she questioned with a raised brow.
“Aye, they’ll understand.” He shrugged. “Or they’ll be filled with jealous rage. Either way, I’m winnin’.”
Maisie laughed, wrapping her other hand around his arm and holding him tightly. How she’d missed him. Each time they were apart, she’d missed him.
Over the last two and a half months, they’d traveled between Northern Ireland, Boston, North Dakota, and back, visiting with family and attempting to syphon as much time together as possible in between it all. They’d spent weeks apart as Finn worked at his new part-time touring gig in Northern Ireland, then again as Maisie poured more time and attention into Daphne’s restaurant.
Now that they were finally together again—this time in England—they were spending it with his friends, having decided to meet up with Cedric before his big game, the first since his injury.
Maisie couldn’t complain about sharing Finn with others because she was in for the long-haul and had the rest of her life to spend time with him—even if she did grow weary when they were apart. It just meant moments were all the sweeter when they were together, especially when they talked about their future and the dreams they shared.
Marriage, children, even a bus tour of their own that focused on visiting all the best sites—with all the best foods—of Northern Ireland. All of it sounded better than she ever could have imagined, and it was all because of Finn.
As she walked down the street toward the pub, she stared up at him, still marveling that he’d chosen her.
“If you keep lookin’ at me like that, love, I’m goin’ to forget all about me friends and take you back to the car,” he warned, his brown eyes glinting with mischief.
Her heart jumped, though she told it to calm down. They were there for Cedric today. Her and Finn’s kissing could wait .
For a minute, at least.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the pub where Matthew, Winnie, and Graham stood waiting.
“Finally,” Matthew said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “We’ve been waiting hours for you two. We left the bed and breakfast at the same time. How did you get so far behind us?”
“Sorry,” Maisie said halfheartedly. “We were…detained.”
Matthew looked at Finn, unamused. “I know exactly what that means.”
Finn happily grinned at Matthew’s continued stares.
“Calm down, honey,” Winnie said, patting his arm with a soothing touch. “We’ve barely been waiting five minutes.”
“And Cedric’s still busy, too,” Graham added, jutting his thumb over his shoulder.
Maisie looked to where he motioned, finding Cedric standing at the side of the pub, a crowd gathering around him as he took photos and signed jerseys and soccer balls—or footballs, as he was always sure to correct Maisie each time she called them anything else.
“Ah, his adorin’ fans,” Finn said.
“The man’s an idol,” Matthew joked. “Seems he’s back in their good graces.”
“I mean, can you blame them for fawning all over him?” Winnie asked. Then she leaned toward Maisie. “The man’s better looking than David Beckham in his prime.”
“Seriously,” Maisie mouthed out.
“I saw that,” Finn stated, staring down at Maisie with an accusatory look.
She smiled innocently. “It’s okay, honey. I like my men much less muscular,” she said, then she wrapped her arm around his and squeezed.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Finn questioned.
Matthew guffawed, and Maisie reached up to kiss Finn on his cheek, though he turned in time to catch her lips instead.
“Here he comes,” Graham said as Cedric approached .
However, in the next minute, Cedric was stopped again, this time by a father and his son who couldn’t be older than four.
Maisie watched with a smile as Cedric ignored everyone else vying for his attention and crouched down low, speaking with the little boy before signing his mini jersey.
“Oh my gosh, he’s so sweet,” Winnie said.
“Okay,” Matthew said, taking Winnie’s arm and playfully turning her away. “Finn, we need to get our ladies out of here before they leave us both for Ced.”
A few minutes later, Cedric finally managed to break away, and the six of them entered the pub where they enjoyed good food and conversation for the next several hours as they touched every topic possible—Matthew’s sister’s engagement, Graham’s latest skydiving experience, Winnie’s visit back home, and Maisie’s menu for the restaurant.
“How’s the restaurant coming along?” Winnie asked next.
“Fine, luckily. We’re scheduled to open on time. You all will have to find a way to make it there when it’s done. I’ll be sure to set aside a table for you.”
“On Ced’s dime,” Graham joked.
“I’m good for it,” he teased back with a smirk.
Maisie couldn’t think of anything nicer than to have them all see the hard work she and Daphne had put into Soups of Europe. Construction was nearly complete, and a chef had been hired, so Maisie had been enjoying taste-testing all the cuisine she’d sampled for months across Europe.
What was even better than eating, however, was the fact that her relationship with Daphne had improved leaps and bounds after her aunt had finally let down her guard and gotten to know Finn.
The two hit it off wonderfully, thanks to Finn’s naturally charming nature, and Maisie had been relieved to finally have her aunt back. Daphne, of course, was still working on accepting Maisie’s new dreams of being with Finn, but the support she extended to Maisie had finally freed her.
She and Finn still hadn’t spoken with Daphne about what the far future held for them, but they didn’t need to share that just yet. Their love for each other was stronger than time and distance, so until the two of them were ready to move to the next step, they were going to enjoy simply being .
The conversation continued to shift, moving to Finn’s family next.
“How’s your dad, Finn?” Matthew asked.
“Cracker,” Finn responded. “Lovin’ his job, which is a nice change.”
The relief on his features had been apparent for months now, especially as his dad began to pay back the money Finn had given him.
“Don’t even bother protestin’ me payin’ you back, son,” his dad had said. “This is rightfully your money. Just use it for plane tickets to visit Maisie, here.” Then he’d smiled at Maisie warmly and moved to help Niamh in the kitchen.
Maisie had loved every second she’d spent with the O’Meara’s and couldn’t wait to get to know them even better, especially in working alongside Mrs. O’Meara with the new licensing agreement for her stew.
As the meal wound down, and as Cedric paid for the enormous bill—despite the protests from all the men—the conversation shifted to the game ahead.
“You ready to play, Ced?” Finn asked.
“I’ve never been more ready for anythin’,” Cedric said in his lilting, Welsh accent. He extended his card to the waitress, gave her a wink, then leaned back in his seat. “The last ten months have been the longest of my life.”
“But your ACL’s healed,” Graham said. “That’s what’s most important.”
“Right,” Cedric agreed. “But it was fine months ago.” He sighed with frustration, visibly trying to let it go. “Anyway, I’m goin’ to make up for lost time, you can be sure of that.”
“Five goals?” Finn teased .
“Fifteen,” Cedric upped. They laughed, knowing the score would be impossible to achieve in the Premier League.
“And the media,” Matthew asked next, “they’ve backed off, haven’t they?”
“’Course they have,” Finn said. “They’re callin’ him England’s greatest comeback in the last two decades.”
Maisie listened to the boys chat with a smile on her face. She’d heard all about how the media and Cedric’s fans had turned on him when he’d first sustained an injury, but now that he was back on the pitch, they had high hopes that he would bring his team to win the entire league.
“Well, whatever happens,” Cedric began, “with the media’s support or not, I’ll be winnin’ the game for Habergham today, mark my words.”
With that, their meal ended. Cedric left for Old Trafford—the stadium they’d be watching him play in that night—while the others wandered around Manchester, stopping in a few shops to pass the time before the match.
As they meandered, with Graham, Matthew, and Winnie in front of them, Finn took Maisie’s hand again and smiled down at her. “Are you happy, love?”
She sighed. “Mmm. Very happy.”
“’Course you are,” Finn said, puffing out his chest. “How could you not be, walkin’ ’round with your muscle-less man?”
She laughed. “I’m more into height than muscles anyway,” she said.
“Fortunately for you,” he said. “Although, I am cheatin’ with these trainers givin’ me a wee boost.”
She peered down at his shoes, having gifted them to him for his birthday in October. “How are you liking those Kiziks?”
“Ach, they’re magical, aren’t they? Don’t know how I lived without ’em.”
“See?” she said knowingly. “I told you you’d love them.”
“I do. Almost as much as I love you.” He winked down at her. “So have you filled in your notebook with what we just ate?”
She shook her head. “I’ll do it tonight.”
He was silent for a minute. “And have you added another entry about me yet?”
She laughed. Finn had given her a new notebook a few weeks ago when hers had officially been filled to the brim. Since then, he had yet to stop pestering her about adding another entry on him.
“I told you already, you’re not wiggling your way into this one.”
“Ach, why not?” he complained.
“There’s nothing more to add. I was too thorough in the first one.”
“’Course there’s more to add.” He pulled up his hand, as if writing in the air. “‘He was the only handsome one in his family.’”
She pulled out an imaginary pen next. “‘Whom no one could understand.’”
He gave her an unamused look, then shot his arms forward to wrap around her middle. “You’ll pay for that one, love.”
She laughed as he pulled her down a side alley. “What are you doing?” she asked giddily.
“I’m earnin’ me rightful place in that book o’ yours,” he said with a look of determination.
Then he leaned forward and kissed her senseless. Right in the middle of it, when she’d lost track of where she was in time and space, he pulled away abruptly, leaving her to swirl in the stupor he’d kissed her into.
“How about now? Have I earned another entry?” he asked.
She laughed with a roll of her eyes. “You drive me crazy sometimes, you know that?”
“Just what exactly are you kids doin’ down there?” a voice from the top of the alley called out. Graham had popped his head around the shop on the street, his gaze playfully narrowed toward them.
“Just drivin’ Maisie crazy here,” Finn responded. “That’s all. ”
“I see. Carry on, then.” Graham grinned, then disappeared once more.
Finn did as he was told, gathering Maisie in his arms again.
Of course, she allowed him to, for why would she ever say no to the man who’d brought her more joy and had given her more hope than she ever thought possible?
And as he kissed her again, she made a commitment right there, that she would add Finn to her food journal—and to each journal that would come after that, because when a man tasted of Fifteens and Heaven, he was worth every written word.
Later That Evening
Cedric stood out on the pitch, his pulse racing and sweat dripping down his face. He’d played his heart out in the first half, proving to his manager, to his friends and family, to Habergham supporters, and to all of England that he had a right to be on that team by scoring the first goal.
Now, the teams were tied, but if given the chance, he could pull off another. He knew he could.
The crowd roared in his ears. The manager had tried to pull him, convinced Jones had a better chance at scoring a goal, but Cedric had convinced him to keep him on. No one else could push them to victory like Cedric could.
As the ball shifted to Habergham’s possession, Cedric’s focus intensified. He ignored the commentators, the boos and cheers from the stadium’s stands, the burning in his legs and lungs, and everything else that would pull his concentration away from that ball as his teammate launched it in the air toward him, and Cedric bolted forward.
With powerful momentum, he launched past the opposing team’s players, flying into the air and landing a header that threw the ball straight toward another teammate.
A few more passes occurred, and Cedric moved into place just in time for the final pass to travel toward him. He gained possession, then took off down the pitch toward the net.
He was back. Where once he’d been that little boy who’d grown up on a poor sheep farm in Wales, now he would have the eyes of Europe on him as he made this goal. All the media would be treated to this spectacular shot. All the people who’d said he couldn’t make it, who’d naysaid his ability, would now see they were wrong.
Or had they been right all along?
That split-second thought flashed in his mind, misplacing his laser-like focus on the net to drift into his past for only a moment, but it was enough to change the course of his future forever. In the next instant, as he launched the ball forward, a loud pop resounded around him, and blinding white pain seared through his leg.
Then all was black.
Five Months Later
Cold April air whipped against Cedric as he walked across the uneven grass toward the stone cottage he now called home.
Wales had been bitter cold that year. More rain had fallen than Cedric ever remembered seeing. But he welcomed it. Any time the weather was cold enough to numb his fingertips, it was cold enough to numb his emotions, too.
Cedric popped up his collar to ward off the cold slicing the back of his neck, then whistled, a long burst that curved from high to low to high. His purebred Welsh sheepdog rounded the corner of the cottage and appeared at his left side instantly .
“Good girl,” he said, giving her a scritch atop her head.
Together, the two of them neared the house, ready to sit down and rest. No television to turn on, no radio to listen to, no high-speed internet to surf.
No cruel comments from the media and past fans to remind him how much he’d failed a nation.
Just Cedric in front of the fire with a warm cuppa and a nice book.
Alone.
This was his life now—solitude and silence—and he was wholeheartedly embracing it. No more fame and glory. No more autographs and matches. No more fickle reporters, toxic fans, and impossible-to-please managers. Cedric had left it all behind months ago and would never go back.
Now he was where he belonged—in Wales, on a sheep farm, completely alone.
A soft rumbling sounded nearby, and he looked over his shoulder in confusion until he spotted a red, two-door sedan rounding the bend, driving down the road past his property.
Cars didn’t travel as far as he was from society unless they were after one thing…a chance to interview the recluse that was now Cedric Davies.
With a fierce scowl, Cedric turned back to his house, crossed over the threshold, and promptly closed the thick wooden door behind him.
Let the reporter try to knock on his door. He’d let his dog out before they stepped one foot out their car.
But as he waited to hear the familiar opening and closing of a door, nothing came. Pulling on a deeper frown, he peered out of the window, no longer seeing any sight of the red car.
Still not convinced that they’d just happened to drive by, Cedric moved to his bedroom, where one of his windows overlooked the road and decrepit house nearby.
To his surprise, the car pulled directly up to the battered cottage and parked, then the vehicle door swung open to reveal the exact opposite of what Cedric had expected.
Instead of a man, a woman stepped out of the car, and instead of the usual reporter clothing—girl boss and dressy—she wore casual jeans and wellies. Her pitch-black hair swirled around her in the bitter wind as she faced the cottage, hands propped on her hips, back facing him so he couldn’t see her features.
That property had been abandoned for nearly a decade by the Carews, or so he’d been told. Cedric was under the impression that it would never sell.
Was this woman really a reporter, or was she one of the Carews, looking at her once-fine property? Or was she merely a trespasser Cedric would now have to deal with?
He sighed, tramping back through his house to leave the warmth and comfort behind. His solitude would have to wait. He’d best go see what this riffraff was up to.
He’d left civilization on purpose, and there was nothing that would pull him back to it, so whether he had to run off this reporter, request to purchase the land from this Carew, or sic his dog on this trespasser, he’d do it.
Because of one thing he was sure, a woman like her was not welcome in a place like this.
To be continued in…
Men of the Isles, Book Three
Ruling out Robyn