Chapter Eighteen #3
“So,” Eamonn said finally, when we’d both had time to put a dent in our meals. “You and my brother. It all began when you both swiped right.”
It felt like that tension around his shoulders had returned, or that could be me projecting.
Because for some reason, the way that he said that, the way he’d called it a modern relationship earlier, got under my skin.
His tone was almost carefully neutral, but I couldn’t help but read a lot into it.
I didn’t like the idea that he might be making fun of me, that he thought using dating apps was pathetic somehow, or hopeless.
Maybe it was just because at my lowest moments I sometimes wondered the same thing.
“It’s a valid way to meet someone. About ten percent of partnered people met their significant other on an app.” I’d gotten that statistic from a pop-up on the app’s home page itself, so the scholarship behind it might be questionable, but whatever. I could believe it.
“It is,” Eamonn said. “Definitely. I’m only trying to picture it. My brother’s profile would’ve had…I’m going to say, a picture of him outdoors looking outdoorsy, something about his job, and maybe something about his go-to nightcap. Am I right?”
I thought of the green grass picture, the bit he’d included about being a marketing executive, and the note that he liked his Manhattan on the rocks. For someone who wasn’t that close with his brother, Eamonn had him pretty nailed.
“And for you…” he continued. “I’m trying to think what would get Niall to swipe right on you.”
“Oh wow,” I said. “A real brain buster, huh?”
“No,” Eamonn rushed to say, seeming to hear how that had come out. “That’s not what I meant. I just wouldn’t have thought you were my brother’s type.”
The full band had gotten set up on the stage, now featuring a violinist and a flautist in addition to the guy with the guitar, and another woman on vocals.
They’d already made several announcements and gotten enthusiastic cheers from the crowd during some call-and-response before launching into a bouncing, raucous song.
I remembered how Niall had called it irresponsible, the fact that I didn’t even have a passport.
Certainly it was true that I shouldn’t even be here, that I’d never be in a Dublin pub if I were yesterday’s version of me, the real me, the me at home.
It had been obvious Niall didn’t think I was worldly or sophisticated enough for him, and sitting in front of Eamonn in the same shabby dress I’d been wearing then, I guessed I shouldn’t be surprised that he agreed.
“You haven’t talked to him in years,” I said. “So what would you know?”
A low blow, I realized once the words had flown out of my mouth.
The truth was that I wasn’t his brother’s type.
The more important truth was that I didn’t want to be.
And yet it still stung to hear Eamonn say that, brought me all the way back to that up-and-down look Niall had given me when he first walked into the Thai place, that sense that in a single second he’d judged me completely and found me wanting.
What was it about me that kept coming up short?
“Fair play to ya,” Eamonn said. “I wouldn’t.”
The crowd had started clapping along to the music, the energy in the pub a far cry from the energy in our little corner.
“Eamonn—” I started to say, but he didn’t let me finish.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, his blue eyes intense on mine as he leaned over the table.
“I’m sorry, none of this is coming out right.
My brother is—he’s lucky to have you, if he has you.
I agree with you that he could stand to be a little more humble, but I think it’s good for him to be with someone who sees that, who challenges him in that way.
If you want a happily ever after with Niall, I’m rooting for you.
I’d put all this in a speech at your wedding—although I doubt I’d be best man—I’d be proud to call you my sister-in-law.
I really didn’t mean anything against you, I hope you know that. ”
I didn’t want to be his sister-in-law. That meant I’d have to be married to his brother, and it also meant…well, I didn’t want to be his sister-in-law.
“Eamonn,” I said. Now that I’d started letting myself say his name, I was a little addicted to it. “I went on one date with your brother. And it wasn’t very good, honestly. I’d say you can hold off planning our wedding.”
Eamonn’s brows knit together. “You’re not dating Niall?”
“No.” The emphasis on that word was probably the closest I’d gotten to revealing my true feelings about his brother to him, since I was still trying not to talk shit about his family to his face.
I tried to think what ever could’ve given Eamonn that idea in the first place, and all I could think was that I’d told him I went on a date with Niall and maybe he’d thought I meant we were actively dating, an ongoing verb instead of a single disastrous noun.
I ran through all the events leading up to this moment in my head, casting them in a new light through this lens. “Wait,” I said. “Have you thought that this whole time?”