Chapter 28
Lo
People can surprise you—and rarely, it’s even possible to surprise yourself. Before Lark’s wedding, I was certain that Aidan and I were done forever. But nostalgia and romance are a powerful combination, and spending time together again has only reinforced how much I missed him all along.
My heart nearly burst when Aidan said he loved me.
More important, he proved it by taking action.
I melted into his arms when he told me he’d found a flat, finally allowing myself to revel in the sense of comfort I’ve only found in his embrace.
His follow-through renewed a sense of hope and light in my life that I hadn’t realized was missing.
Things are good now—so good that I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The biopsy feels like a steel-toed boot suspended from a frayed shoelace just over my head.
I called my doctor and got authorized for the procedure, but haven’t actually scheduled it yet.
I know it’s foolish to wait, but I just want to hold on to this sense of normalcy and happiness for a little while longer.
Lark and Callum are still on their honeymoon, but she screams into the phone when I deliver the news that Aidan and I are officially back together. “I knew it! I knew it would happen before we got back. Cal, you owe me a tenner!”
I laugh. “Glad I can make you some cash.”
Oisín was more skeptical when I told him I’m giving Aidan another chance, but he came around when Aidan dropped off lunch for me at the hospital and included a vegan burger especially for him. Of course, Oisín’s still giving me crap about my complete one-eighty, but that’s what friends are for.
One person who doesn’t know yet is my mom.
She’s got to be suspicious of the upbeat inflection of my voice as I run down the events of my week, and the general lift in my mood since the wedding, but she hasn’t asked.
Yet. I just want to enjoy Aidan without hearing all the ways this relationship is doomed.
Our lives aren’t perfect, but now we understand what we lost before.
We can make it this time. When Aidan flashes me that crinkle-eye smile that makes my heart swell, it feels right.
I know I’m living in a bubble of my own creation, keeping Lark—and worse, Aidan—in the dark about my lab results. I can’t help feeling that once I tell them, once I schedule the biopsy the possibility that the cancer is back will become real. I will face reality…soon.
Tomorrow morning, Aidan’s parents are driving him to the airport in Shannon.
He plans to record demos with his band as part of rehearsals in London before they fly to New York together.
He pulls designer pieces that cost more than my rent from the closet of the guest room.
Now I know that the image is one constructed for him.
Aidan zips the suitcase shut. “I wish you could be there with me.”
“Me, too. But you don’t have to feel guilty about it. It’s only a week.” It’s not that I don’t trust him to be faithful, or that I can’t stand to be apart for any length of time. What makes me nervous is the way distance can become cumulative until eventually you barely know each other.
The bed dips under his weight as he sits beside me. “We’ll video chat every night.”
“New York’s five hours behind, but we can manage.”
“I’ll set an alarm on my phone so we can talk when you’re on lunch.” He grabs his phone from the nightstand and programs a reminder. The simple act is reassuring.
“You deserve this, A. I’m excited for you.”
“I’m nervous, to be honest.”
I take his hands in mine. “Don’t be. Everyone’s gonna love the new song as much as I do.”
Watching Aidan go fills me with equal parts dread and excitement.
The opportunity to play the festival alongside household names is too good to pass up, but there’s always been something about a packed suitcase that sends my anxiety spiking.
But this isn’t the beginning of the end.
Two years ago, I refused to trust in us, but I’ve grown since then.
I can deal with challenges head-on and trust that Aidan will be here when I need him. He’ll come home to me.
To prove it to myself, I call the cancer center and schedule the biopsy.
The receptionist says I’m in luck: They just had a cancellation and have one opening the Monday after the festival ends.
Aidan isn’t scheduled to return to Ireland by then, but that’s a good thing.
Less time to ruminate before the procedure and a little space to process the results by myself before he returns home.
More time to figure out what to tell him.
Some weight lifts off my chest as I mark the procedure on my calendar. I just hope my luck keeps.
Aidan sends me recordings of their practice sessions in London. The band is excellent, complementing his smooth tenor voice with lively energy. It’s a gorgeous track, but I think I’ll always be partial to that stripped-down version he played for me in his parents’ guest room.
By day, I focus on my infectious disease research paper in between lectures and clinical rotations. Aidan is beyond supportive, but he’s also a little distracting. I haven’t felt as sharp as usual since my study sessions have been halved by all the time we’ve spent together.
At night, I allow myself to listen to Heaven-Bound on repeat. I turn off the lights to immerse myself in the sound without distractions, the way Aidan and I used to do together. And I break down in tears every time.
Dynamic, raw vocals contrast with the brightness of the mandolin.
Candid lyrics tell a story of doomed love, starting with heated infatuation in track one and ending in bitter heartache with “Never Forever.” Some of these songs I’ve heard before, although never with professional production.
Others offer new revelations into the depth of Aidan’s feelings for me.
If only I’d had the courage to listen to it before. If only I hadn’t refused to entertain the possibility of staying together after he was discovered.
On the fourth night of Aidan being gone, when my phone lights up with his contact photo, I dive toward it and answer eagerly. Simply hearing his voice say hello soothes my frayed nerves. This is even better, a FaceTime call.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“You’re way prettier than I was after a cross-Atlantic flight. It’s so unfair. Did they put you in first class or something?”
Aidan smooths a hand over his beard. “I can assure you, the label is only willing to spring for economy.”
“Gotta keep you humble somehow.”
“That’s what I have you for.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to New York,” I say. “My mom hates flying. Even though we could afford it, she never wanted to go anywhere that required air travel when I was a kid, so our family trips were limited to Six Flags, Dallas, or South Padre Island.”
Aidan had never left his small village in Cork until he graduated and began busking his way through Cork and Dublin before finding his place in Galway. We used to talk about one day seeing the world together.
“We can visit when you’re on Easter break. When Central Park is filled with cherry blossoms.”
“Tell me about it,” I say, envisioning a setting worthy of a classic rom-com.
“I did a benefit show in New York last spring. Some of these trees turn completely pink and drop huge piles of blossoms. There was a woman walking her dog, and the dog started rolling around in them. It looked so happy with all these petals stuck to its fur.”
“We need to visit, if only to re-create that scene.”
“Tongue slobbering and all,” he clarifies. “I haven’t seen anything outside the venue this time, to be honest. We did a sound check soon after we arrived and now I have some time to kill.”
“You’re spending it talking to me? Get out there, sight-see like an annoying tourist!”
Aidan laughs. “What can I say? I miss you.”
His admission settles between us softly, and I take a beat to let it sink in.
“Tell me what you’ve missed.”
“Your…smile.” He brings a fist under his chin.
“Nothing else?”
“Your voice.”
“Go on.”
Aquamarine eyes rove over me knowingly. Even through a screen, they’re so intense. “The feel of your soft skin.”
How I’ve missed the protected feeling of being held in Aidan’s embrace. I want to reach through the phone now and touch him.
“I’ve missed you, too, so I’ve been listening to your record on repeat,” I confess.
He straightens. “Do you like it?”
“Of course. Aidan, it’s beautiful. I knew it would be. I just…didn’t know if I could hear it without remembering everything. Getting emotional.”
“You’d really rather forget?”
“When it hurt, I wished I could. Didn’t you?”
“No. I’d never let those memories go.”
“?‘For a bit of warmth, I’d hold on to the burning coal. Better to burn through my palm than let go,’?” I quote from one of his songs. It had made my chin quiver. When I’d been resenting the love I carried for him, he’d embraced it even when it hurt.
“It’s true.”
“I love the way your voice sounds in it,” I tell him. “Love the bass line of the first track, all heavy and sexy.”
He shoots me a mischievous smile. “You still have your speakers?”
“You know I take my hi-fi seriously.”
“Will you do me a favor? Just…let me try something. I want to touch you.”
“You’re in New York,” I remind him.
“Let me just…” Aidan trails off as he moves out of sight of his web camera. He returns with a guitar and his laptop. “There.”
“There what? What are you up to?”
He leans toward the camera, filling the screen. “It’s an experiment.”
“Okay. Consider my interest piqued.”
“I knew I could appeal to the scientist in you. Connect to this livestream I’m setting up to your speaker.”
I throw him a suspicious look but comply. The sparkle in his eye is too delicious to refuse.
Configuring the Bluetooth takes a minute, then I join his private livestream. “Okay.”
“Now straddle it.”
My eyes widen. “You want me to hump my speaker?”