Chapter 14 Natalie #2
But, I did one smart thing. I made two sets of almost everything, so most of the Thanksgiving cooking for tomorrow is almost entirely done.
Pies, casseroles, pre-stuffed mushrooms, all of it.
Tomorrow, all I have to do is make the rolls, bake another turkey, and pop the casseroles in the oven.
Having a commercial kitchen is the best. The fridge space alone almost makes buying this place worth it.
I’m going over a checklist of items in my head and reviewing the three dining room tables we have set—three different families staying in nine rooms opted to have their own individual Thanksgiving dinners—when a hand on my shoulder nearly startles me into last week.
I spin around.
It’s Cillian. “Hey, there. Easy.” His hands fly wide. “No harm intended, but I called your name and you didn’t answer.”
I smile. “Sorry.” I shiver. “Doing too many things for too long, I think. My brain has given up.”
He rolls his eyes. “What can I do?” He’s dressed in a suit. It looks like he came straight from work.
“What—why are you here?” I frown. “I texted and told you Mrs. Murphy’s sick, so I’m slammed.”
“Which is why I came over as soon as I finished the four closes we had today.” He spreads his hands. “Put me to work.”
“You already worked,” I say. “It sounds like it was a long day.”
“Ah, I went to my desk job. Now I’m here to do my boyfriend duties.”
It’s the first time either of us have said anything like that—boyfriend—other than when I shoved it in Mason’s face to make sure he didn’t freak out tomorrow.
Hearing Cillian use the word seriously is vaguely horrifying.
I did invite him to come for Thanksgiving earlier this week, which is a boyfriend kind of invite, but I didn’t have much choice.
He was with me at the store when I started picking up ingredients, and he said he’d always wondered what American Thanksgivings were like.
“Cillian, listen, I really appreciate your willingness to help, but I can’t possibly ask you to—”
He presses one finger to my lips, his eyes intent on mine. “You didn’t ask. I’m here, insisting.” He glances around the room. “I see the full dining table, set for twelve. And two more tables—breakfast room, and billiards room. Six and five. Did I count right?”
I nod.
“How were you planning to serve all of them?” He arches one gorgeous eyebrow. “Cloning? Are you part of some clinical trial?” He bites his lip. “Because that would be interesting.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop.”
“Let me help you. It’s what boyfriends do.”
Clara was walking in, but she freezes and turns. “Uh, sorry. I, um, I’ll just—”
“You’re fine,” I say. “Cillian showed up to help.”
“Your boyfriend.” Her eyes are large.
“Right,” I say. “I mean, we hadn’t decided on that yet, but we’re trying it on.” I clear my throat. “It’s, uh, new, and I like it. I hope you’re okay with it.”
Clara’s smiling a very awkward but also very happy smile when she backs her way out. “I’ll just go grab the chilled drinks for each room.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Sorry.” Cillian looks chastened. “I hadn’t thought about how that might go down.”
“I have kids.” I sigh. “It’s literally the most central, most important part of my life, and up until now, my romantic lead was my husband. He got it. It’s harder now, and I guess for you, it’s not that fun, but they always come first for me.”
“So I can’t spring things like the word ‘boyfriend’ on you.” His eyes aren’t meeting mine.
Except, other than Clara walking in, hearing him saying boyfriend felt right.
I step toward him and take his hand. “It’s been a really long day, and here you are, helping me out.
You showed up without being asked, and you’re all dressed to impress.
Your second job, you called it, and I know you were kind of kidding.
But it’s true for me. My family is my first job, and this hotel comes second.
” I squeeze his hand. “I think the boyfriend is okay, but I guess now we find out whether all the rest is okay for you, too. I chose this, but now you have to also, or this won’t work. ”
He nods slowly, and then he smiles, looking up at me, right in the eyes. “Okay.”
“You are dressed nice and sharp. How about you man the main room?”
He releases my hand and salutes me. “Cillian Doherty, reporting for duty, milady.”
Two and a half hours later, I bet he’s regretting it heartily, but we’re finally done. “We did it,” I say. “Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Vanessa showed up, and Hannah, Bryce, and Trace all lent a hand. Rían and Sam had their hands full with the normal horse stuff, since two of the horses are needing nightly wraps, and it’s been raining, so they’re all in stalls around the clock. I told them not to come.
But the hotel’s full, and we’re actually making money, and Thanksgiving dinner’s past, and now we just have a mountain of dishes to do.
“Thank you,” I say to Cillian. “I really mean that, but go home. We’ll get things cleaned up, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He ignores me, gathering up dishes and carrying them into the kitchen. “You’re not done, so I’m not done. Isn’t that how this works?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t help with your real estate stuff. You have an entire office for that.”
“Well, your office called in sick,” he says. “And now your kids have school tomorrow, right?”
Vanessa laughs. “I’ll get them all moving on going to bed and finishing up homework.” She ducks out, winking at me as she does.
And then Cillian and I start cleaning. He washes while I clear, and he whistles a tune I’ve never heard while doing it.
“What is that song?” I ask.
He freezes. “Ah, twas always my da’s favorite.” He’s smiling. “Ae Fond Kiss. You should listen to the Irish version of Robert Burns’ famous poem. My favorite version is by the Voice Squad.”
“It’s a love song?”
He laughs, drying his last plate. “Well, sort of.”
I turn and lean against the counter beside him. “What does that mean?”
“It’s about two people who love one another a great deal, but the woman heads back home to her husband in Jamaica, leaving the man alone.”
I don’t hide my dismay very well.
Cillian laughs heartily. “It’s still a love song. You can love someone and not choose to be with them, because it’s what’s best.”
That’s a sobering thought. “I guess.”
“And you don’t have to regret what you shared. It can still be lovely.”
I can’t help my grimace.
“You don’t agree?”
“I was raised in America, and we all want a happily ever after.”
“So a love story must end in forever, or it’s not a love story?”
I think about my past with Mason. He and I loved one another, and we have five beautiful children.
Now we’re trying to navigate life apart but we’re also trying to be together happily enough for the kids.
Is it beautiful? Not really, not to me. “I guess for me, it needs to end in forever. I want a love story where I grow old and grey with the same man. I want him to change to fit what I need, and I want to be inspired to do the same.”
“You’re not very Irish,” he says.
“Burns isn’t Irish either,” I say. “He’s Scottish.” I’m a little proud of myself for knowing that.
“We forgive him for it,” Cillian says. “And maybe I’ll forgive you for your close-minded American ways.
” He grabs my waist, pulling me against him.
His hands are wet from the dishes, but his eyes are bright, and his body’s warm.
His head ducks over mine, and when our lips meet, my whole body comes to life.
A shiver runs down my spine.
My arms and legs feel energized.
Hammering in my chest and breathless excitement remind me just how much I like the right now in my own love story. “Yes,” I whisper against him.
And he kisses me more, in just the right ways.
“Fine,” I admit, when he finally releases me. “I guess, American or not, I’m excited enough for the love we have now, even knowing it may have an expiration date.”
He smiles. “It won’t expire though, not if I can help it.” Cillian walks me back to the cottage then, leaning against the door of my porch. “I’ll be over early tomorrow to help—I took the day off work. What time do you want me?”
“Ten,” I say.
But for the first time since we started dating, I wish he didn’t have to go home at all.