Chapter 18
eighteen
Stevie
One Year Later
It’s been nearly a year, and I feel the sting in my chest when I think about Seattle.
How the airport hotel room felt like a coffin.
I cried so hard I could barely breathe. My phone vibrated with calls from Padraig I couldn’t bear to answer. I was too ashamed to tell my parents why we broke up and why we’d never get back together. Too gutted to move from the fetal position.
I can’t make sense of how I kept breathing through all of it—the moment everything tilted sideways and never came back.
The worst part is, Felicity didn't need lies. She used truth. Twisted it. Dragged it into daylight and left it bleeding at my feet.
It’s not her I blame. Not really.
I thought Padraig was mine. Knew it in my soul. Despite our challenges, I believed our kind of love was built to survive anything.
Instead, I found out how easy it was for him to hide things. Let them rot between us.
For years, Felicity was pressing closer. Testing boundaries. And he stayed quiet. Never said, “She’s pushing too far and I don’t know how to stop it.”
Saying it out loud would’ve meant choosing.
So, he didn’t. Not then. Not when it counted.
Every time anyone—me, Liam, Linus—said anything about replacing her, he refused. Didn’t want to start over. Said it’s better the devil you know. Thought she was why the band had any success.
I didn’t let myself see it until he finally grew a pair of balls and fired her.
Once I knew the truth, I had no choice. I had to end it.
So I walked.
Not from love.
From the lie I would've had to live inside to stay.
It’s taken months to feel halfway like myself again.
Cooper was the one who pulled me out of the wreckage. He’d gone through his own breakup and, among my friends in New York, was the only who understood the weight of waking up with an empty ache every day.
We made a pact to look out for each other. To call before any spiral started. Keep ourselves from wallowing.
He also encouraged me to keep the lines open with Padraig.
“You have such a long history and your families will always be tied together,” he said one night over greasy diner fries. “You’ll regret it if you shut him out completely.”
So I didn’t.
We talk. Not often.
Enough to remember what we were. What we can’t be again.
At first, the texts and occasional calls with Padraig were excruciating. Being without him was like I’d lost a limb.
Talking about all of it, honestly, hasn’t helped. His position remains, he would never cheat on me and he didn’t want to upset me over something he considered a non-issue. I’ve tried to see his point of view, but deep in my soul I know we’ll never be the same.
He begs me to come back. Sends half-finished songs, late-night voicemails, memories stitched into chords. He promises to leave the band if it means I’ll give us another chance.
Sometimes I almost cave because I miss him so much. Of course I love him. Part of me always will. He was my first kiss, my first time, my first forever. We grew up wrapped around each other, too entangled to see where he ended and I began.
We were never fragile. We were flame.
Then I breathe. Remember.
Our unraveling started when I chose something of my own. A dream I didn’t want to shrink to fit within the trajectory of the band.
The truth is, we built a life too soon. Played house and planned our future before we knew which direction we’d grow in. Our foundation cracked under years of mismatched priorities, unspoken fears, and diverging priorities.
What happened with Felicity brought it to light, but it was bound to happen eventually. Padraig and I are heading down different paths.
Doesn’t mean I don’t feel the burn.
It does mean I’m not willing to get scorched again.
Both he and Liam are fully committed to Fireball.
Even more so than before. Part of me thinks it’s because Connor’s band, LTZ is gaining momentum and they want to keep pace.
Both of them are working harder than ever, and the effort shows even though he sounds exhausted whenever we talk.
Felicity’s gone now, obviously. She didn’t go quietly. There were ugly words, threats of lawsuits, a smear campaign on social media that fizzled when no one cared enough to listen. But the band survived.
A woman named Arleigh stepped in a few weeks later.
She’s talented, stable, and solid, which is exactly what Fireball needs right now.
Padraig doesn’t think she’s their forever singer, but she’s helping them get through a nationwide tour on the success of the album they finished before the implosion.
It’s done better than they expected. Two songs charted on alternative radio, and Fireball’s been headlining midsized venues all across the country.
Unfortunately, Linus had to return to Dublin after graduation, which has left Liam as heartbroken as Padraig.
The two of them have been forced to handle the band’s direction on their own.
Last week he told me a big LA-based management company’s circling, promising bigger opportunities. Hopefully, signing with them will relieve some of the pressure and allow him to enjoy the ride a bit more.
I won’t be on it with him.
I won’t go backward. My life is in New York now. I’m thriving through my heartbreak.
The hotel is more chaotic and consuming than ever, but I’ve also proved I can keep up.
I’m not the tentative intern I was when I started.
I’m a full-fledged event planner now, juggling corporate clients, weddings, and black-tie galas.
My reputation is finally starting to mean something in the company.
Besides, this city has a way of sweeping you up and making you believe you’re part of something bigger.
The constant bustle of activity. Late nights effortlessly bleed into early mornings.
I love the thrill of knowing you can walk out your door and find anything from a pop-up concert in Central Park to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with the best food you’ve ever eaten and a skyline so bright it erases the stars.
There’s no shortage of people to meet or places to be and it’s intoxicating. New York makes me feel limitless and I’m grateful to live in a place where I can get lost, build myself up, and become a better version of myself.
A year later and missing Padraig is quieter now, something I carry without letting it crush me.
He and I aren’t the same people we were when we broke up.
Maybe that’s the hardest part to admit. There’s no going back, no rewinding time to what we used to be, so I’ve learned to lean into the present instead.
Saturday mornings with Cooper have become part of my present. He’s already waiting outside my apartment when I come down the steps, scrolling his phone with one hand, a paper coffee cup warming the other.
“We’re going uptown.” He hands me my caramel latte, tucking his phone into his coat. “PB Brasserie in Harlem. Supposedly the best croque madame in Manhattan.”
“Whoa, a big claim.” I gratefully take my morning caffeine staple. “How long’s the wait gonna be?”
He cocks his head. “What do you take me for? A chump? I reserved a table. Eleven-thirty. Which means if we don’t leave now…”
“We’ll be those people,” I finish, falling into step beside him.
The subway is crowded but warm, a welcome change from the biting wind at street level. We grab seats across from each other, knees brushing as the train jolts forward. He fills me in on a disaster at work earlier in the week, his dry humor cutting through the monotony of the ride.
I can’t help smiling; he’s good at making everything sound less serious than it is.
By the time we surface in Harlem, the streets are alive with music and delicious smells.
The windows of PB Brasserie’s sleek exterior are fogged with the heat of a packed brunch crowd.
Inside, the noise is almost lively and energized.
I’m delighted when we’re seated quickly near a window overlooking the sidewalk.
Cooper orders the steak frites. I go for the croque madame, naturally, and we add bottomless mimosas because, why not. The first sip has both of us sighing like we’ve won the lottery.
“This is dangerously good.” I take another sip.
“You’re the one who introduced me to bottomless drinks.” He grins. “Now you’re stuck with me enabling you.”
Our food arrives and it’s everything the reviews promised, cheesy, buttery perfection. We talk through every bite, about upcoming projects at work. Our coworkers’ chaotic dating lives. My roommate’s latest attempt to film workout content in our living room.
Cooper fills me in about his week at work. Accounting might not be glamorous, but he has a way of making me laugh about client meltdowns and spreadsheet disasters. I lament about a conference I’m organizing for a Fortune 50 company next month and how much pressure there is to get it right.
“You’re gonna crush it,” he states like a fact, not opinion.
When I’m with him, I feel a quiet confidence settle into me.
It eases the knot of stress I carry all week.
Cooper’s steady and sure-footed, the kind of person who makes you believe things are going to be okay even when you’re not sure.
It’s nice not to have to explain every little thing.
He works there too, so it’s easy. Comfortable.
By the time we split the bill, we’re both a little tipsy, laughing harder than we should at nothing in particular. We step outside into the cold, breath clouding in front of us.
“Let’s walk it off for awhile.” He glances down the street. “I’m not ready to go underground yet.”
“Sure.” I slip my hands into my coat pockets and keep up with his brisk pace.
We stroll in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the city filling the space between us as we head toward Central Park.
“So, I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this.
” He tugs his beanie down over his ears.
“And I’m probably gonna screw it up, but, I’m gonna go for it.
You’ve been the best part of this year for me, Stevie.
After my breakup, I thought I’d be stuck in this weird limbo forever.
But you made things easy again. You make me laugh. I like who I am when I’m around you.”
I stop walking. “Coop…”
He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not trying to make this complicated. I like you. More than I probably should. And I know you’ve been through a lot. I know you’re figuring things out with Padraig. But… I couldn’t not tell you.”
His words settle between us, the air sweet, sharp, electric.
I take him in for a second. Cooper’s hard to miss.
His dark hair never quite behaves, it’s trimmed close at the sides and curls slightly on top.
His broad shoulders fill out his jacket like he could walk into a rugby scrum and win.
He’s about Padraig’s height, maybe an inch taller, but his frame’s more muscled.
His skin is more olive-toned, but he has blue eyes and features causing people turn when he walks into a room.
I’m attracted to him, it’s not lost on me. I clearly have a type.
He catches me watching him, and grins, softening my heart a bit. He makes me want to stay in the moment. Take a chance.
Except…
“Cooper,” I break eye contact and look off into the distance, “you’ve been there for me in ways I didn’t even realize I needed. I care about you so much. But I’m not…” I trail off, struggling to put it into words. I look up at him, bracing for his reaction.
He nods, his expression steady. “I get it. I’m not asking for anything from you other than I wanted you to know where my head’s at. You deserve someone who shows up for you. Every day, no matter what. If there’s ever a chance, I want you to know I’m here.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my throat ache.
“I don’t even know what to say.” I toe the ground. “You’ve become one of my best friends, Coop. Any girl would be lucky to be with you. I mean it.”
“Well, one day you’ll be the lucky girl. When you’re ready,” he says firmly.
I link my arm through his and lean into him as we start walking through the park. “You’re good for my ego.”
“Yeah?” He folds his hand over mine.
Squeezing his arm, I let out a breath. “Let’s take this one step at a time, okay?”
We walk in quiet peace as the city bustles around us.
For the first time, maybe ever, I consider what it would be like to love someone other than Padraig.
I can’t help but wonder if my heart has room for something new.