Chapter 16 #3
"Not in the slightest." Mam waves the very idea away. "And this way we can feed you a proper Irish breakfast before you head off in the morning. I'm certain I've a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, and I'll dig you out a fresh towel if you'd like to wash your face."
"That's incredibly sweet, and I'd really appreciate it," Margot says, her expression softening.
I narrow my eyes at my mam, who returns a suspiciously innocent smile. She adores Margot, that much is obvious, and she's caught a whiff of how I feel. I know she's scheming. She vanishes toward the linen closet, humming, which is never a good sign, and I turn back to Margot.
"I can still run you to your hotel if you'd rather, Ace," I say quietly.
She shakes her head around a huge, uninhibited yawn. "I am honestly exhausted. I don't mind staying, so let's just crash here."
I nod and finish the last of the dishes, and once Margot's borrowed a toothbrush and washed up, I lead her down the hall to my old room.
"Here it is. Sheets are clean." I push the door open and step inside.
She wanders in the small space, taking it all in, while I lean against the doorframe and watch her.
She's wearing a pair of Saoirse's pajamas, and she looks so thoroughly out of place in this room, gorgeous and elegant against the backdrop of my fourteen-year-old self, that I have to bite back the urge to say something stupid about how strong my feelings for her are.
Her fingers trail over the old sports posters gone soft and peeling at the corners, then along the paperbacks stacked on every shelf and the row of dinged-up hockey trophies. She leans in to study one of the framed photos on the end.
"Oh my god! Is this tiny you?"
"Aye, that's tiny me."
"You were such a baby. Look at your little face." She picks up the framed photo, looking delighted. "Your dimples took up half your cheeks!"
I laugh and she sets the photo back, then settles onto the edge of the mattress, and I walk in to sink down onto the duvet beside her.
She gives me a small, slightly awkward smile. "This is so weird."
"It is a bit." I nudge her knee with mine. "I'm fairly sure my mam is actively trying to strand you here at this stage. She really likes you."
"Really?" she says, looking pleased. “I mean. That's sweet." Her gaze drifts over the peeling posters. "Although I have to say, the childhood bedroom aesthetic isn't quite doing it for me."
"No?" I raise a brow. "And here I was about to sweep you off your feet."
She laughs, her nose scrunching. "I'll do my best to hide the disappointment."
"Appreciated."
She scoots over to the wall side of the bed, settling back against the headboard, and pulls a pillow into her lap.
I lean back alongside her, our shoulders a few inches apart, and neither of us moves to fill the silence.
It isn't awkward, though. There's something peaceful about it, sitting together in the half-dark with the light rain against the glass.
After a bit her eyes drift to the window and the dark, rain-streaked street beyond it.
"I really can't wait for tomorrow," she says quietly, picking at the corner of the pillowcase. "I went down a total Galway photo rabbit hole earlier. It looks unreal. All that wild coastline."
"You'll love it. The hotel's right on the edge of the Atlantic, and you can hear the waves from the rooms." I smile at the thought of being home again. "Shame the schedule's so packed. I'd show you the old haunts properly otherwise."
"I'd have liked that." She sighs and scoots under the duvet. "Your mom mentioned at dinner they're thinking of heading back that way next year?"
"Yeah. They'll keep this place, since all the girls are still in Dublin.
Well, Lily'll be off acting in London soon enough, but the rest are rooted here.
" I shrug. "They miss the west as much as I do, though.
Came down to Galway or Donegal in the end, and Galway won.
One of Mam's brothers settled there years back, so we've relations in both spots. "
"That's nice." Her voice goes soft. "Having a home in both places."
"Aye. I'll not complain about an excuse to get back west more often."
She nods slowly. "I'm a little sad we're only there one night before we fly home. Although. I'm actually looking forward to getting home, too."
She looks up at me, and everything we're not saying sits right there between us: the trip ending, the flight home, what happens after. I'm half out of my mind waiting. But she asked for space until the dust settles, and I'd wait a fucking lifetime if that's what it took to keep her.
"Yeah." I hold her eyes across the quiet room. "Me too, Ace."
She smiles and breaks the look, her attention dropping back to the pillow in her lap. I glance at the old clock on the shelf, which says it's nearly one in the morning.
I clear my throat and sit up. "Right. I'll head down, leave you to it."
"Cillian." She catches my wrist. "Just sleep in here."
"Ah, the couch is grand?—"
"The couch is doll furniture. I sat on it after dinner and my knees were at my chin. You're six-four. Your legs will hang off from the shin down."
"I happen to enjoy it when my legs hang off. Keeps the knees fresh."
"You've literally had me naked against a wall," she says, and I let out a startled laugh into the quiet room. "I think we can manage to survive sharing a single mattress."
I turn my head and look at her beside me, the borrowed pajamas, the pillow already hugged to her chest.
"You sure, Ace?"
"We're adults, Cillian. It's perfectly fine." She lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Honestly, I'm so exhausted I think I'll actually crash even without my lavender spray, and that never happens. Get in."
I reach over and flick off the lamp, and the room drops into the orange glow of the streetlight through the curtains. She shuffles over to the wall side, leaving me the open edge, and even with the space it still puts us close together, shoulders touching.
Then she launches what I can only describe as a major infrastructure project, gathering every spare pillow within reach and arranging them into a nest around herself, one tucked behind her back, one along her front to hug, the rest walling off her flank.
I prop up on an elbow and watch the operation with mounting fascination.
"Do I at least get one of those?"
"Hmm. You get this one." She hands me the flattest, saddest pillow in the house without a flicker of shame. "The rest are essential infrastructure."
I laugh, taking the offering and settling back against the headboard. "I thought you said you were so tired you could sleep without the usual routine."
"I said I could sleep without my lavender spray. I didn't say I'd surrendered my standards entirely,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me as if I'm the unreasonable one, and I can't help but chuckle.
"Whatever you say, Ace."
"See, I do prefer it when people simply agree with me. Life is much easier when people listen to the things I say." She sighs contentedly.
"Oh?" I hook an arm back behind my head, watching her in the shadows. "I had the impression you liked it when people pushed back just a little."
She cuts me a sidelong glance. "If you're referring to yourself, no comment until we are back on US soil."
"Fair enough." I let it go, smiling into the dark.
We settle in, and the room goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop, just the faint sounds of the street outside, no city hum this far into a residential area.
I'm hyper-aware of her body just inches from mine, the thought of her making it impossible to relax, though being in my childhood bedroom certainly helps dampen the fire a bit.
Minutes pass and I glance over to find she's actually fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even. I can't help but smile at her, looking so peaceful and adorably unraveled, and I'm struck by the weight of exactly how much I've fallen for her.
I'm usually out like a light the second my head hits the mattress, and Margot is the lifelong insomniac, yet tonight I'm the one wide awake while she sleeps.
She scrunches her nose in her sleep and rolls toward me, abandoning her pillow perimeter to scoot closer. She settles against my shoulder and I go completely still, hyper-aware of every point where her body touches mine. It's going to be a very long night.