Chapter 16 #2
"How's the firm treating you?" I ask as I pull the boxes forward, two of which are ripped at the corners and threatening to fold up and spill their contents. “Last we talked properly, that fraud case had you sleeping at the office."
"We settled it, actually. Three weeks ago, on terms that made the other side cry into their very expensive shirts.
" She examines her nails, failing entirely to look modest. "And the timing's interesting, because a partnership seat is opening up at the firm.
The dream job, if I'm honest. They'll be deciding in a few months. "
I stop with a box halfway to the car. "Fiadh. That's massive."
"It would be, if I had a prayer." She shrugs. "I'd be the youngest partner they've ever made, and Doyle’s got two more years in and a standing golf game with half the equity partners."
"Why would you say that? You just won them a case they'll be dining out on for years. You're smarter than anyone in that building, and tougher too."
"Tell the partners that, will you?"
"Aye, I'll give them the anecdote about the time you nearly broke my arm over a Westlife poster. Very partner material, that."
"That ought to seal it for me, alright." She laughs, tipping her head back against the car, then watches me work for a moment. "How are you doing, anyway? We haven't had a proper minute since the pub."
I slide another box forward. "You mean the fact that my dream of hoisting the Cup is currently a pile of ash?"
"That'll be it," she says grimly.
"It's about all I can think about, if I'm honest." I set the box down on the wall and lean back against the car beside her.
"Jonesy's been texting. The lads are civil enough now that a few days have passed, but they're still pissed, and they're right to be.
Three games. I'm back for game five, if we live that long. "
"There's a match tonight, yeah?"
"Middle of the night, our time." I rub the back of my neck. "So I'll be sat up in the dark watching my team fight for their lives without me. They’re struggling, so it's not exactly easy viewing."
"Christ." She winces. "And I saw Brennan's already through. I just want to punch him. He's such an ass."
"Aye. He gets to rest at home while I do photo ops." My breath fogs faintly in the porch light. "There's only one place this ends, Fee. Him and me, in the Final."
"Good," she says with certainty. "Then you'll get to shut him up in front of the whole world. It'll get better. I know it will."
"I just want to be on the ice. Normally I'd be all for the charity stuff, and it's grand being home. But being here during the playoffs feels like watching my house burn down through someone else's window."
"I bet it does." She sighs, then a smile creeps in. "Though I'd wager a certain sommelier's been softening the blow?"
"Aye." I can't help smiling back. "The only time I'm not drowning in it is when I'm with her."
"She's sound, Cillian. I can see exactly why she's the one who finally made you want to trade in the bachelor life."
"We'll see." I laugh, nudging a pebble off the path with my toe. "I told her how I felt after the incident. But she's got that strict rule about athletes, and we're waiting until we're back in the States and off the clock to figure it out."
"Well, I'm rooting for you both. It's nice, seeing you with someone who makes you happy. And she's clearly good for you. Smart as a whip, sooo sweet, but with enough bite to keep you on your toes."
"I'm glad you like her. Thanks, Fee."
I don't usually put much weight on other people's opinions about who I date, and where Margot's concerned, no one stands a chance of changing my mind anyway. But if anyone's opinion does matter to me, it's Fiadh's.
"And Cillian.” She shifts her weight, her gaze dropping.
"It was a brave thing you did for her, stepping in like that.
I'm proud of you. You've always been the one to jump in when someone needs it, and I know this one cost you plenty.
But you're a good man. That counts for more than any of the rest."
I study her for a beat. "I appreciate you saying that, Fee. I really do. And I'm sorry if tonight dragged any of those old memories back to the surface for you."
"It didn't." She gives a slow shake of her head, her gaze fixed on the quiet street. "That's ancient history now."
"I've never said this to you." Finding the right words is a struggle, and I find myself fiddling with the car key in my pocket.
"But everything that happened with Margot...
it brought it all back. I was so angry back then.
At that piece of shit, of course. But I was just as furious with myself for choosing some meaningless team commitment over flying home for your birthday.
I couldn't stop thinking that if I'd just been there like I was supposed to be, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. "
"Cillian, there was no way for you to know," she says, her voice steady and certain. "I have never, not for a single second, held you responsible. He's the only one who deserves the blame."
"No, sorry, shit." I shake my head. "I'm not looking for you to soothe my conscience. That's the last thing I wanted. The whole problem is I think I made it about me back then. I'm trying to apologize for that."
Her brow creases. "What are you talking about?"
"For after. I wanted to find him and kill him, and I put everything I had into being angry.
I don't think I was ever actually there for you.
You were the one going through it, and you didn't need me plotting revenge.
You needed me to show up and not make it about myself.
And I never did apologize for that. So. I'm sorry, Fee. "
She's quiet a long moment, looking up at me in the dim light, her eyes shining.
"For the record," she says softly, "you were there. I remember how angry you were, but I also remember you just sitting with me when I needed to have a good cry. And I got through it. It took therapy and work and time, but I feel good these days. Really."
I manage a small, tight smile. "You're easily one of the toughest people I know, Fee."
"I know." She grins. "Honestly, with the amount of therapy I've logged, I'm practically a licensed professional myself."
"Aye, you're a regular Dr. Freud, aren't you?" I chuckle, nudging her shoulder. "I just want you to know you can lean on me, Fee. Whenever you need it."
"I know I can." She bumps her shoulder into mine, her expression softening. "But I'm sound, honestly."
I nod, looking down the row of parked cars. "I hope I didn't make it all harder for Margot. My reaction being violence, the press circus, her having to deal with the fallout."
"Well." A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
"We had a proper chat while you were losing that card game to Lily earlier.
I think she was actually grateful you stepped in, based on how she talked about it.
You got quite the glowing review, for what it's worth.
Plus, I'm firmly of the mind that men who think they can lay hands on a woman deserve to be decked. "
A laugh cracks out of me, and she smiles, pleased with herself.
"Enough with the heavy talk." She wipes her eyes and straightens her shoulders. "For the record, I'm glad I got stuck with you for a brother."
"I'm really glad you're my sister too, Fee."
She pats my arm and heads back toward the house, calling over her shoulder, "Now go get my boxes, you great dolt, before Mam sends out a search party."
It's well past midnight, and one by one my sisters have peeled off, the night winding down after hours of stories and chat and steadily vanishing wine. I've ended up at the sink, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher while Margot leans against the counter beside me.
"I had no idea you were so domestic," she says, watching me stack the plates.
"I'm an awful cook." I slot a glass into the top rack. "So growing up, the dishwasher and the cleaning were about the only kitchen jobs anyone trusted me with."
She laughs, peering over my shoulder at the racks. "Well, I love your organization. It's pretty similar to how I do mine. Loading a dishwasher correctly is a dying art, honestly. You should see how Sabrina loads mine. It's like she's never seen one before in her life."
"High praise, Ace." I slot the last glass into place. "Right, just these few and I'll run you back to your hotel."
"I'm sorry it's so far out." She winces, looking regretful. "Our hotels are on opposite ends of Dublin. You'll be driving nearly an hour. Honestly, I could just grab a taxi. Though, you'll need to tell me where we even are so that I can tell the driver."
"We're in an area called Beaumont," I say. "And not a chance. I'm not waving you off into a taxi at nearly one in the morning. I don't mind the drive at all. I find it relaxing, if anything."
That's precisely when Mam materializes in the doorway, looking very much like she's been lurking just out of sight waiting for her cue to intervene.
"Run her all the way across the city at this hour? Nonsense." She waves a dismissive hand toward Margot. "You'll stay right here tonight, love. Cillian's old room is already made up with fresh linens. Both of you look exhausted, and at this hour your hotels might as well be up in Sligo."
"Oh, I really couldn't take his room?—"
"Mam, honestly, we should probably head back?—"
"You can and you will, and I'll have no nonsense from you, Cillian." She shoots a sharp look at me before turning back to Margot with a warm smile. "He can have the couch; it'll build a bit of character for him. But he'll show you up to the room."
I glance at Margot, attempting to signal that she can decline if she wants.
"Um," Margot hesitates for a second, her gaze darting between us. "I suppose... why not? I am pretty exhausted. If you're absolutely sure I'm not being a burden?"