Chapter Seven
Every invitation had been accepted. The rooftop terrace looked amazing. The waitstaff wove around effortlessly with hors d’oeuvres and finger foods. The band played toe-tapping music without preventing mingling and conversations.
Keighley acted as go-between for all the bits and pieces, checking on things and answering questions for the people behind the scenes.
Conall put out the proverbial fires, though there weren’t many.
They exchanged a few high-fives, tossed each other thumbs-up across the way.
All in all, the night went off without a hitch.
Even Sterling paused his schmoozing long enough to tell them, “This turned out fine.” Considering he’d apparently said something really insulting only a few days earlier, she took that as a compliment. “When you’re done here tonight, submit your invoice to my business manager.”
Conall nodded. Keighley offered an “okay” and that was it.
As Sterling walked away, Keighley said to Conall, “That was less rude than I’d braced myself for.”
“I’d guess he didn’t want a scene,” Conall said.
“I wouldn’t have made a scene.”
He shook his head. “But he knows I might have.”
She took his hand and pulled him aside where they could talk with a little privacy. “What did you say to him that morning in the lobby after I went back to my room?”
“A few home truths is all. He knows where I stand.”
She stepped closer. “And where do you stand?”
“With you.” He pressed the same feather-light kiss to her lips he had once before.
A shiver slid down her spine even as her heart dropped to her toes. “I’ll be standing in New York tomorrow.”
“I’m doing my best not to think about that,” he said. “The Atlantic’s an awful big ocean, Keighley.”
“I know.”
The kitchen coordinator motioned to her from across the way.
“You’d best go,” Conall said. “No point ending the night with a disaster.”
She hoped he was talking about the kitchen and not the confession they’d been tiptoeing toward.
In the end, she couldn’t be sure. He sent her a text as everything was wrapping up, saying another event that night was short-staffed for cleanup and he needed to go help them find a solution.
She texted back.
I head to the airport at 8 tomorrow.
Surely she was going to get to see him one more time before she left.
8 in the MORNING?
She smiled. She could hear his voice in her head saying that with laughing shock. She was going to miss him.
This trip to Dublin had seemed like the perfect opportunity for getting to know Sterling better. Spending even another moment with the billionaire no longer held any appeal. But her heart was breaking at the thought of an ordinary, amazing, exactly-what-she-dreamed-of Irishman.
Fate was sometimes a total jerk.
***
She didn’t hear from Conall that night or the next morning before she checked out of the hotel. She made it through security and customs and all the way to the gate where her flight to New York would be taking off. Not a word.
Maybe she’d read too much into things. They’d had fun, and they’d become friends. The kisses and hand-holding, maybe that didn’t mean as much in Ireland as she thought.
Then again, what could have even come of it? As Conall had said, the Atlantic was a big ocean. It wasn’t like they were going to see each other again. Cutting off everything abruptly was probably smart. It hurt now, but it would be easier in the long run. She hoped.
She pulled out her phone again, telling herself she wasn’t checking for a text. She was, though.
Nothing.
Her flight didn’t leave for over an hour. She had almost no time left in Dublin. And she was spending it sitting alone. She should have gone more places and seen more things, instead of wasting so much time worrying about what Sterling would think about her work ethic and dedication.
She should have gone with Conall to see all the things he’d told her about. There would have been time. And maybe the friendship between them would have grown into something more. And maybe he would have said goodbye. Maybe.
Walking around might distract her a little while she waited to board. She pulled her wheeled under-seat bag along behind her as she began a circuit of the small seating area.
Not many steps along, she swore she heard her name. She looked around but didn’t see anyone. Then she heard it again, behind her.
She turned back. Conall was rushing toward her.
Every ounce of air rushed from her lungs. Every thought fled except one: Conall was there.
By the time he reached her, she’d found her voice. “How did you—? Why did they let you back here?” Then she spotted his carry-on slung over his shoulder. “You’re flying.”
He smiled that uneven smile of his and shrugged a little. “I’ve never been to New York.”
Her heart leaped in her chest. “You’re coming to New York?”
“Thought I might.”
He was coming to America. “On my flight?”
“I figure we can convince someone to switch seats with one of us.”
“You’re coming to New York.”
“It’s a big ocean, Keighley,” he said. “But there’s something here, between the two of us. Something I’m not ready to let go of. I figure I’d rather be on the same side of that ocean as you while we sort out what it is.”
Her grin only grew. “I thought, when you didn’t even text this morning to say goodbye . . .”
“I’ve been working to figure out what flight you were on, and getting myself on it, and getting things together to be gone for a while, and I—” He laughed. “And it’s more romantic to just show up, I figured. A grand gesture, yah?”
“It’s amazing.” She didn’t think she would ever stop smiling. “You’re coming to New York.”
“Honestly”—he slipped his arm around her—“I’m just coming to you. Wherever you’re going.”
She set her hand against his chest. “Let’s cross an ocean, Conall. I think that’s a good start.”
He bent his head toward her but paused mere inches away. “I’m not a billionaire, you know.”
“That’s a very good thing for you,” she said, “because I have no intention of ever falling for a billionaire.”
On that declaration, she kissed him, right there in the airport, in Dublin, in the country she’d always wanted to visit, where she’d met him, and where everything had changed. For the better.