26. Cillian
twenty-six
Cillian
Six Months Later
Today’s a big milestone for me.
I’m celebrating it with my family.
As I walk up the familiar steps to my parents’ house, the scent of blooming spring flowers fills the air. Tonight is my one-year sobriety anniversary. I’ve never been prouder of any accomplishment. It’s funny, I feel the weight of the past year lift slightly as I approach the front door.
“Cillian, there you are!” Ma is waiting for me the second I step inside. Her eyes are filled with pride.
I kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry I’m late, I ran into traffic. You look beautiful and it smells great in here.”
“Ach—you silver-tongued devil. Come on in, everyone’s sitting down already.” She swats my arm.
The house is filled with the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes. The aroma of roast beef and buttery mashed potatoes wafts through the air, making my stomach rumble. I follow her into the dining room, where my da and my brothers are already eating.
“There he is!” Da’s booming voice fills the room. He stands up and claps. “Proud of you, son. One year is no small feat.”
“Thanks, Da..” I take my seat.
How is it possible it’s been an entire year since that dark night when I accepted help? The day I decided to stop hiding. Including my entire family in my recovery has been healing for all of us. Above all, I don’t ever want to slip. Knowing the people who love me will hold me accountable has been motivating. I wouldn’t be here without them.
“Uncle Cillian!” Tristan and Toran, Connor and Ronni’s twin boys, come barreling toward me, nearly knocking me over.
“Hey, you two!” I laugh and gather them to me. “Been behaving for your parents?”
Connor chuckles, shaking his head. “Define ‘ behaving.’”
“They’re a handful, as always. But we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Ronni cradles wee Teagan who’s nestled in her arms.
I catch Brennan’s eye across the table. He nods, but is quieter than I thought he’d be considering his role in getting me here. I make a mental note to check in with him later.
Liam and Padraig are bickering about something, their low-level jabs are laced with an unusual snark. Something seems to be causing tension between them.
Ma holds up a glass of sparkling apple juice. “I’d like to make a toast.” Her eyes brim with tears. “To my husband and my son. It’s not easy for a man to make a change and turn his life around from addiction. It takes a special kind of fortitude, and both of you have shown such strength. I’m proud of you, Rory, for the man you’ve become. And Cillian, your journey is just beginning, but you’re on the right path. I love you both.”
We raise our glasses, the clinking sound echoes in the dining room.
“To family.” My voice is thick with gratitude. “Thank you all for being my support. I went to a dark place and it’s a relief to be on the other side.”
“Cillian, do you want to share what’s next for McGloughlin Construction?” Da passes me the mashed potatoes.
“Yeah, we’re in the bidding process for a big shipping project in Long Beach.” I can’t help the excitement creeping into my voice. “Peter Vander and I are finalizing the proposal. We have a few new buildings on the slate and Stan wants us to build another office by the Port of Tacoma.”
“Busy times.” Connor, who is currently on a break from touring with his band, LTZ, raises his glass. “ Slante .”
We clink glasses again and I take a moment to soak in the easy camaraderie. Our family has gone through tumultuous times. It’s nice to have moments like these. It keeps me grounded.
As dinner winds down and the dishes are cleared, I see Brennan furiously texting in the living room.
“Everything alright, Bren?” I approach cautiously.
He sighs, then pastes a smile on his face. “Investor bullshit. I’m also dealing with some news from an old classmate. It’s nothing, really. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve been my rock, Bren. Let me be yours. Whatever it is, I’d like to help.” I recognize the same guarded look I used to have. I’m not worried about his drinking, but we McGloughlins all tend to hold our problems close to the vest.
“Yeah, I appreciate it.” He looks around. “I’ll talk to you about it later. I promise.”
Liam and Padraig’s banter continues, their playful insults carrying an undercurrent of tension. Without warning, the situation escalates and before anyone can intervene, Liam storms out, slamming the door behind him. Seamus and Padraig are now huddled in the corner, deep in conversation.
There’s never a dull moment in a family of six brothers. Despite the chaos—and the occasional fight—there’s a warmth in the air. A sense of belonging I wouldn’t trade for anything. Especially after I lost many of these nights to the bottle.
Eventually, everyone but me heads home. Ma settles on the couch to watch a Real Housewives show and my da and I find ourselves on the wraparound porch.
“You’ve done well, son. I’m proud of you, so I am.” He claps me on the back. “One year sober. That’s something to be proud of, so it is.”
“Thanks, Da. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worth it.”
We stand in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the night enveloping us.
A few years back, Da took a step back because he trusted me. The processes I implemented helped increase revenue and helped manage staff accountability. He knew McGloughlin Construction was in good hands.
After I hit rock bottom, he was back in full force, showing me that facing your demons and coming out stronger on the other side is something to be proud of. He stepped up and seamlessly took the lead on the Bright Shipping project and our other jobs. When I came out of rehab, I was able to ease back in.
Yeah. Working regularly with my da again has been special. His support and guidance have taught me a lot about business, resilience, and commitment. It’s brought us closer in ways I never expected.
“I’m going to sell the loft,” I admit, breaking the quiet. “It doesn’t serve my needs anymore. In thinking about my future, I’d like to build a house. I’m considering moving into my townhouse for the time being.”
Da glances over. “Well, it’s important to move on if the time is right. You deserve happiness, Cillian.”
“I’ll never forget the day we learned you built them for us.” I recall my parents distributing a deed to each of us almost a decade ago. “I didn’t understand it then, but now I realize it was your apology for the trouble you’d put the family through during your battle with alcohol. It was such a cool gesture.”
My da’s eyes glisten. “Aye, it was important to me. Mostly, I wanted to repay Connor for putting his life on hold to get yous all through high school. He rents his place out these days, as does Brennan. Liam and Padraig stay at their places when they’re home. Seamus is the only one of you who lives there as his primary residence. I’m sure he’ll love to have you closer.”
“Yeah, me too. Plus, it’s the perfect space to plan my future.” I lean against the rail. “I’m coming up on thirty- five, if you can believe it. I’d like to settle down. Have my own family. I’m feeling a renewed sense of purpose.”
He squints at me and nods. More than anyone, my da has a unique insight into my struggles. “It’s tough to confront your demons, but it’s also important to move on. You deserve happiness, Cillian. What would make you happiest?”
Ivy .
Her name flickers through my mind, unbidden. As it always does when I allow myself to tap into my deepest desire. The truth is, she’s not part of my world anymore.
I wish I could accept it.
Our relationship was a whirlwind—passionate and all-consuming. It burned brightly. Fiercely . She and I were drawn together with an irresistible pull. Emotions ran high. Every moment felt heightened. I loved her deeply and thought she was my future.
Once I learned how young she was, my mind went to a dark place and stayed there for too long. I discounted her decision-making capabilities outright, believing I’d taken advantage of a young, impressionable woman. I didn’t trust what we had was real.
Now I know it was real. The realest, truest feeling I’ve ever had.
Perspective has a funny way of rectifying things. Intense counseling during rehab helped me cut through my own bullshit. At the end of the day, our timing was wrong. The situation was fucked up. Rather than berate myself—or her—for how we handled things, I’ve embraced the truth. My time with Ivy was a brief but powerful chapter in my life.
I’m sad it ended the way it did but now it’s time to focus on the future. On the family I want to have. The legacy I want to leave behind. I take a deep breath and look back at my da. “Building something new would make me happy. Creating a place where I can start fresh.”
“Are you thinking about the woman in your life? The one who got away?” He cocks his head. “She’s Bright’s daughter?”
My words nearly get caught in my throat. “ What ? Why would you say that?”
Da squints at me. “Oh, I picked up on a few conversations about some young girl you were dating on the down low a few years ago. While you were in rehab, Stan and I often talked about our kids. He mentioned his brilliant, eighteen year-old daughter who was supposed to go to Stanford Business School and run his business and, instead, was in Europe with her mother. She moved to Italy after a bad breakup with a boyfriend she kept hidden from the family. Seemed coincidental your alcohol abuse took on a life of its own around then.”
“How in the fuck did you put two and two together?” I swallow hard, processing his words.
I’d gleaned a lot about Ivy’s whereabouts from Stan over the years, but obviously never asked for specifics. So much of my drinking stemmed from envisioning her fucking some young, Italian boyfriend. The thought was unbearable. Still is. Though I’m not na?ve enough to believe she hasn’t moved on after all this time.
“Guessed.” My da takes a seat on the porch swing. “Even though you didn’t tell me anything, the timing and details—it clicked for me. He had a lot of guilt around driving her away. Blamed himself for expecting too much. He said it was a real wake-up call when she stopped speaking to him. They’ve made some progress, I think. Obviously, I didn’t let on what I suspected.”
Taking everything he says in, I’m able to exhale for the first time in a few minutes. “I thought she was older when we met. I found out who she was at my presentation at Bright Shipping. Ivy never told her parents who I am—there’s no way Stan would have kept us on as contractors if he knew I was the guy.”
“Cillian, did you fall in love with her?.” He pats the seat next to him and I sit.
“Yeah.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “She wanted us to be together and I refused to consider it because she lied to me about her age and who she really was. I wasn’t sure which way was up and now I don’t think I’ll ever love someone like that again.”
Da clasps my shoulder. “You kept all of this to yourself. How’s that worked out for you?”
“What could I have done?” I look up at him. “At first, I thought she was in her mid-twenties, which was young, but acceptable. We were only together a few weeks and I figured things would work themselves out. We talked about introducing each other to our families, but we never got the chance.” I punch my fist into my hand. “I had no idea she was living a secret life. That she was only eighteen.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Doesn’t seem like the timing was ideal.”
I rub my hands together. “No. It wasn’t. After getting to know Stan and how goddamn intense the man is, I understood more about her upbringing. The pressure. The expectations. Grief brings out the worst in people. I’m not mad anymore and I certainly don’t blame her for trying to take control of her destiny. I feel lucky to have ever meant something to her because she meant the world to me. It wouldn’t have worked, though, and I knew it. She’s fourteen years younger. In a completely different place in her life than I am.”
“Aye.” Da thunks me on the back a few times. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“The sucky thing is, I haven’t been able to look at another woman in three years, and believe me I’ve tried to move on.” I’m not proud of my drunken—and ultimately aborted—attempts to get over Ivy by getting another woman under me. Since I’ve been sober, I downloaded and deleted dating apps. Hated them. None of the women hold a candle to Ivy. It’s depressing.
Da stands. “Well, at the end of the day, if you’re patient the right woman will come around.” He moves toward the door. “Time for bed.”
“I’ll head back home. See you tomorrow.” Da and I say our good nights and I bound down the stairs to my truck.
On the way home I picture Ivy in a sunlit studio in Florence painting in a big, white shirt. She turns when I walk in the door, illuminated by the glow of creativity. I bend to kiss her sweet lips…
No .
What we had will never come again. She’s gone. Forever.
A year ago, the thought would have sent me straight for a bottle of whiskey.
Today, I don’t even have a craving.
I’m ready to face whatever comes next.