Chapter 25 Natalie
Natalie
The Fortwilliam Estate Hotel was decorated for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving.
I’ve been brainstorming and running a dozen different promotions to keep bookings up in the off-season, and I’ve already got another nine bookings in place for the start of the year.
My rooms for New Years are now full, thanks to Richard’s Lismore Castle Ball.
That’s a little awkward now, but I can’t help being grateful.
Ugh.
“What happened to the big, light-up snowman?” Hannah asks. “That’s my favorite.”
“It was too big to move,” I admit. “I’m sorry. I donated it.”
Cue more whining. I swear, the kids seem to care about literally every piece of Thanksgiving and Christmas trash I could have sworn they didn’t even know existed, now that we’ve moved. Each time they mourn the loss of some other piece of junk, I feel a little guiltier.
“Why are we decorating so late?” Clara asks, hefting the star to the top of the tree. “It’ll only be out for three days.”
I thought about just doing the tree and nothing else. Decorating the mantel, the stairwell, the front porch, the family room, the kitchen, and all the windows feels like overkill. But I knew if I didn’t. . .cue the whining.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “The holidays have gotten away from me. A new business, sick employees, and animals to care for have been a lot. I know that’s not fair to you guys.”
“Mom, it’s fine,” Clara says. “We know you’re working really hard.”
“Too hard,” Amelia mutters.
“But she’s been riding with us,” Hannah says. “And she’s happy.”
I like that they can tell I’m happy.
“Some of us don’t ride,” Blaine mutters. “So what about us?”
“For you guys, I’ll make more time to do what you want. So what is it?” It turns out, it’s playing games. One game of Twister and two games of spades later, and we take a break to get the banister wrapped with the snowmen garland. “See?”
Blaine’s happy, and so is Paul. “Can we do that every week?” Blaine asks. “Mom game time?”
“Sure.” I laugh. “We’ll pick a day. Sunday afternoon, maybe, so it’s not missed during the school year.”
“Good idea,” Paul says.
When my phone bings, I realize I forgot about my lunch plans. “Shoot.”
“What?” Hannah frowns. “Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t seen Cillian in almost a week, and I was supposed to meet him for lunch, but his closing’s going long.”
“On a Saturday?” Clara tilts her head. “Who closes on a house on a Saturday?”
“It’s what they call a remote close,” I say.
“The banks are closed, but his office gets all the forms signed, and then on Monday, it’ll all go through.
Well, maybe not this Monday, thanks to Christmas, but the next business day.
And his clients are often pretty wealthy and busy, so they do it on the day they can find time, and then he makes it work. ”
“I know.” Clara rolls her eyes. “Inconvenience ourselves for the convenience of others.”
I nod. “That’s what makes it work and not stuff we do for fun.”
“And it’s why they pay you,” Hannah says.
My kids have heard this stuff for a while, I guess. At least they’re listening.
“You should meet him for a late lunch,” Amelia says. “That’s good for us—we can finish with the tree and stuff, and then you can still go. I like Cillian.”
“You do?”
Amelia nods. “He doesn’t talk to me like I’m a little kid. He talks to me like a person.”
“What about the rest of you?”
Paul shrugs. “He’s fine.”
“I like him too,” Blaine says, “but mostly because he listens to me when I talk.”
“He’s better than Dad,” Clara mutters.
“Yeah, he is,” Hannah says.
“You don’t mean that,” I say. “You guys love your dad.”
“We do,” Hannah says, “but he didn’t treat you right. Cillian treats you better.”
“Dad’s been trying lately,” Blaine says.
“It’s just too little too late.” Amelia hums a little tune, and Hannah and Clara join in.
“You guys, stop.” I smile.
“But could you take Dad back?” Paul asks. “He is trying to be better. And he moved here.”
Oh, boy. “Well, buddy, it would be really, really hard.”
Paul frowns. “He is trying hard. What if he keeps trying?”
I can’t bring myself to tell him no, and I wonder whether that has any meaning, or whether I’m just not able to break his tiny heart.
Mason has been trying hard. He’s helping with the kids, and he’s showing up for everything, and he’s stopped badgering me.
I can’t help thinking about what he said at Christmas.
That he’s glad Cillian’s not good with kids.
I talked to Cillian about it, and he said he’d try to be better.
I’m not sure Cillian really wants to, and I’m not sure he even knows how to try, but at least some of the kids like him. I wasn’t great at mothering right after having Clara. I grew into it.
When I text Cillian, he’s keen.
I have to go by my place, but I’d love to meet you there. I can cook for you.
I’ve never been there, and I’m a little nervous, but I agree. I suppose seeing his apartment or house or whatever it is will tell me something about him. When I follow the address, it takes me to the one high-rise apartment in all of Lismore. His apartment’s the penthouse, of course.
As the elevator goes up, the numbers lighting up in sequence, my heart races a little. I know it’s not like he’s trying to seduce me at two in the afternoon, right?
Right.
Surely.
I had to enter a code to get his floor to light up, but when the elevator door opens, I don’t expect it to open directly into his entry hall. “Oh.”
Cillian’s definitely surprised me, but he’s not planning to seduce me.
At least, I don’t think so.
He’s holding a puppy. It’s black and white and very, very wriggly.
“Oh.” My eyes widen. “You got a dog?”
“I got your kids a dog!” He beams. “Don’t you think they’ll love it? My neighbor was telling me his parents’ dog had puppies, and that they need a lot of space, and I thought, perfect! They have kids, and kids love dogs, and they have plenty of space, too.”
Oh. My. Word. “You got my kids a dog and you didn’t think to ask me?”
He frowns. “Did you not want one?” His shoulders fall. “I thought they’d love it.”
“Cillian, dogs are so much work. I’m already drowning.” I step closer. “What kind of dog is that?”
“Some kind of mutt really, since they have no idea who the father was, but the mother’s a pedigreed border collie.”
I want to cry. “They’re. . .” I sigh. “Can it go back?”
“Go back?” Now he looks distraught. “I’ve had it here for almost a week. Look what a sweet little guy he is.”
I’m going to kill him. “Cillian.”
His eyes brighten. “Yes?” He steps closer and shoves it into my arms. “Look how fun he is. I’m sure you’ll love him. And your kids and I can bond over him.”
“When I said I wanted you to—”
“To be part of their life, to bond with the kids, to connect with them. I was listening.” He nods. “And your ex got them a pig, so I figured a dog could be my thing.”
I look around his apartment, which was previously eclipsed by the news of the puppy. It’s all black and white, with pristine floors and polished counters. It looks expensive and severe.
And like the quintessential bachelor pad.
“Are you planning to keep this guy here?”
“God, no,” he says. “All he does is poop and pee and shred things.” He sighs. “In fact, if you want to give him to them early, we could do it today. I could go with you right now.”
I stare at him.
“No?” He shrugs. “I can handle him for another day or two. That’s fine, too.”
“Cillian.” I can hardly believe I’m saying this. “This isn’t working.”
“The dog?” His whole face falls. “I’m sorry. I should have checked with you, but I thought I’d surprise you too. I really thought you’d like him.”
I shake my head. “No, not the dog, though, that’s kind of the illuminating factor.”
“Then what?”
“Your life and mine. . .” I shake my head. “We’re way too different. You live in the center of this pristine island, in this life that’s clean and shiny and perfect. It’s untouched by chaos and you do what you want when you want to do it, always. I live on a houseboat full of wild animals.”
“That’s why I thought you’d like the dog.”
“I’m barely hanging on right now,” I snap.
“My kids don’t see enough of me, and I’m falling apart trying to make time for you, and them, and the business.
” I inhale and exhale. “I need someone who can fit into the chaos, not someone I have to carve out special time for. I definitely can’t be with someone who thinks adding another enormous responsibility to my plate is a good idea without even asking me whether I can handle it. ”
His eyes are wide. “Wait, are you dumping me?”
I snort. “Yes, Cillian. I am.”
“It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.”
“You do know the date,” I say. “And now, you don’t have a date.”
I surprise myself by taking the dog when I leave.
Part of me hopes he’ll rush after me, begging me to stay and keep trying. Or offering to join me on my houseboat, wild chaos and all.
But he doesn’t.
I imagine he’s just relieved I took the dog.