Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
IRISH
I rish watched Makenzie carefully as they sat down to dinner. Could she be a Little? He prepared a simple meal of chicken, pasta, and vegetables. He hoped to bring some comfort to her after her long day. But as they ate, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. The food wasn’t seeming to bring her the comfort he’d hoped. Something was troubling her.
As they picked at their food, Makenzie's gaze drifted to the window, her thoughts clearly miles away. Irish cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence that hung between them. “Is everything all right, Mak?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.
She sighed, setting her fork down and meeting his gaze. “I'm sorry. I'm just…still processing everything that happened today,” she admitted.
Irish reached across the table, gently squeezing her hand in his. “You aren’t alone. You can tell me anything. Whatever you're comfortable sharing, I'm here to listen. I won’t pressure you but sometimes it helps to talk it through.”
“The enormity of the moment kind of hit me. I know financially, my parents aren’t hurting, but I feel guilty for them having to pay for a wedding that didn’t happen. I know they can’t get any of the money back, but I have a feeling my da won’t accept my offer to pay them back, either.”
“For what it’s worth, I called Sean, and we talked while I made dinner. Apparently, outside of the groom and both sets of parents, the rest of the guests went ahead with the reception. He said there was no use in all the food going to waste. They had a big party with family and friends.”
Makenzie’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I am not the least bit surprised that my siblings turned my disaster into a party. Everything was already paid for; it does make sense to not let it go to waste. I mean, we weren’t getting the money for the open bar back and when have you ever known a group of Irishmen to walk away from free whiskey?”
It was his turn to laugh. The community they’d grown up in had a reputation for their shenanigans and a love for good Irish whiskey. “You are right to think your dad won’t allow you to pay him back. I can’t imagine he’s mad at you, though, sweetheart. I’ve known your parents my entire life. Your dad loves you and wants what is best for you. If anything, he’ll be disappointed it took you so long to figure it out, but if Sean is convinced you did the right thing, your dad will be, too.”
“Ma on the other hand?—”
“Yeah, she’s been wanting to get you married and settled since you were like five. Once, she talked to my mom about arranging a marriage.”
“She did not!”
“She totally did. She said you were chasing after me anyway, then might as well make it official. They were joking, of course, but I remember the conversation well.” At the time he’d rolled his eyes, but now, looking at the beautiful woman across from him, he wondered briefly if her mother hadn’t been on to something. Makenzie was meant to be his. Even if she didn’t know it yet. Even if he wasn’t sure how he’d make it happen. He took a large bite of chicken and chewed it slowly while studying her. “Do you want to tell me what happened this morning?”
Makenzie took a deep breath. “I left my wedding because...because Eugene wasn't the one for me,” she began, her voice trembling with emotion. “He's a good man, kind and dependable, but there's no spark between us. No passion, no fire. I've tried to be the daughter my ma wants me to be, but it's all wrong. Marrying him would be a mistake, and I couldn't go through with it. He’d be a great roommate, but that’s all. I mean, he never touched me. Never held me in his arms. His pecks on the cheek were not unlike how Sean kisses me. I felt nothing. No butterflies. No spark. No arousal. Nothing. Maybe it was wrong of me to want those things. So many women would be grateful to have a dependable, hardworking man, who pays the bills with or without the chemistry.”
Irish listened intently. He reached for her other hand, offering her his silent support. No, it wasn’t wrong. There should be chemistry. Fuck, he was feeling it since the second he wrapped her into a hug at the airport.
“He couldn't even make a decision, Irish,” Makenzie continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. “He's so indecisive, always second-guessing himself. And I realized I don't want a life filled with uncertainty. He never knew what he wanted for dinner, what movie he wanted to see, where he wanted to go on vacation. It was always, ‘whatever you want’ or ‘you pick.’ Is it wrong that I wanted him to make a decision from time to time? I wanted him to have an opinion on anything! Whether it was the same or different than mine, I didn’t care but talking about the weather got old. I wanted to talk about other things- music, politics, religion. Anything! But he had zero opinion on any of it. He would tell me, ‘I never really thought about it’ or ‘how you feel is how I feel.’ It was infuriating. He has no backbone. I suppose he’s right for someone, but it’s not me.”
Irish had plenty of opinions on all of those subjects and, if she asked, he would volunteer them. However, right now, he could tell she just needed someone to listen to her express her feelings.
“He didn’t put any effort into getting to know me. My likes, dislikes, what I’m passionate about, nothing. He knows my name, that I come from a wonderful family and have a successful career. That was good enough for him. I think he was hiding who he was, too. I’m uncertain if it was because he was insecure or afraid of rejection or what, but there must be more to him than what he showed me. Is it wrong to want someone who will stand by my side, someone who knows who I am inside and accepts me for it? To want more?”
Irish nodded in understanding. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Mak. You deserve someone who sees you for the woman you are,” he said softly. “Someone who loves you fiercely, without reservation. And until you find that person, you shouldn't settle for anything less.”
“I’m not sure if he exists.” She said forlornly.
“He exists.” He pulled his hand back and shoveled another bite of food into his mouth before he said something that scared her off.
“Thank you for listening,” she said softly. “And for picking me up from the airport and letting me stay here. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to go back but I can book a hotel?—”
“Like hell.” He softened his tone. “You stay here as long as you want. I’d feel better with you here, where I know you are safe.”
“Grand Ridge doesn’t come across as being a crime filled town,” she said.
“Eh, it’s not. The location makes it a prime spot for crime organizations to set their eyes on it. We—” he paused trying to decide how much to tell her. “The veterans who live here have done a good job at persuading them to stay away. But, just in case they come back, I’d be more comfortable with you here.”
“I like your home. If you are sure I’m not a hassle.”
“You are never a hassle, Mak.”
“Um, okay, Irish. Remember when we were kids? You said I was a hassle then. Like that time you and Sean built a treehouse.” Laughter bubbled up in her voice at the memory.
“Yeah, Sean almost fell nailing the roof on.” He smiled at her. “You were mad when we told you it was for boys only.”
“Mad? I was furious! But I showed you. I climbed up into the treehouse when you weren’t there with an armful of Ma’s throw pillows and made it more comfortable, and later, when I came back with cookies, you decided I could be useful as long as I stayed out of the way.”
“You were the most determined little thing I ever saw. Some things don’t change.”
“A lot changed, Irish.”
“Yeah. You aren’t seven anymore and I’m no longer a teenager with pimples covering my face. I don’t want you to stay out of the way anymore, Mak.” The innocence of those days seemed like a stark contrast to the woman sitting across from him now—grown, complex, and cloaked in layers that he couldn’t wait to peel back. When she shifted in her chair, he changed the topic, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
“What about work? Do you need to call them and let them know you aren’t coming in?”
“No. I was getting married today, remember?” She laughed bitterly. “I took two weeks' vacation to get married and go on our honeymoon. Besides, Eugene and I work together. I’m actually his supervisor. I don’t think I’ll be going back. Honestly, I’ve been looking for a change.”
“Oh yeah? The numbers getting to you?”
“No. I love the numbers. It’s just… have you ever needed something so bad it hurts?”
“I have. I don’t know what that has to do with numbers…” He said, trying to follow her train of thought.
“Every day I go to work, and feel like my existence doesn’t matter. I crunch numbers for a large corporation. There’s an emptiness there… I need… more. To feel like I’m making a difference in the world. Like, with what you do with those kids. You make a difference. I’ve been thinking about looking for work at a non-profit. Something like a foster care agency or a women’s shelter. I know it would be a major pay cut, but I have plenty of money saved up and invested over the last decade. I sold my condo. Closed on it a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been staying at my parents’. I was going to move in with Eugene after the wedding. Now, I can maybe look for a job where I feel like I can make a difference.”
“When I retired from the military and Darian made it clear I wasn’t welcome near her or the kids, I floundered. I didn’t know what I was going to do. My friend Hudson told me about this community he’d set up here called Valhalla. They have a wounded warrior retreat they do several times a year. I helped the first year I came out and I thought, there are so many teens who need help, how can I combine the two? He introduced me to Lucky because of my love for bikes and the next thing I knew, I was riding with The Spartan Watchmen. I sat down with some friends and told them my plan. The VA has a business loan available for veterans, I got one and developed the camp. A decade later and it’s fairly successful. But I remember those first couple of months when I desperately needed purpose in my life.”
She nodded. “You get it. Your camp...it's like you're giving these kids their own fairytale ending. Not the kind with helpless princesses and wicked villains, but you turn them into their own real life heroes who can save themselves.”
“Something like that,” Irish said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “My goal is to give them a feeling of self-reliance, yes, but also confidence and hope. If they can walk away from the experience realizing they can do anything they put their minds to and that there are people out there who care about them, I’ve succeeded.”
“See. I want that. A feeling of accomplishment. I've been looking for a way to make a difference, not just shuffle papers and crunch numbers. To change lives, even if I do that by helping an organization find funding or cut corners to help another person or…” her voice trailed off.
“It’s a team effort running a not for profit. Every person matters. Those behind the scenes doing the paperwork are as important as the ones in the field. I could use someone like you. I spent the morning staring at spreadsheets. I’d already decided on hiring someone else. Math has never been my strong suit. I don’t know how long you are going to be here but, I could use someone like you in the office. Someone who understands the stakes and is as excited about the mission as I am. Maybe, while you are here, you could come look at my books? I’d pay you, of course.” He held his breath as he watched her consider his offer.
“Are you offering me a job? I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” Makenzie said.
“We need a new accountant. Someone who can keep the camp funded and running smoothly. You have two weeks off, right? Why don’t you stay for those two weeks, let everything die down at home. Get my books in order for me, it’ll make it easier to hire someone if you go back home.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s simple. Say yes, Mak. Spend the next two weeks exploring Grand Ridge and helping me get the spring session going for camp. You have nothing to lose.” And everything to gain. Give me two weeks to convince you that you belong to me.
“Yes.”
He wanted to jump up and grab her, spin her around the kitchen and kiss the breath out of her. But, instead, he stood up and headed back into the kitchen. “How do you feel about homemade brownies with vanilla ice cream?”
“Well, it’s not a wedding cake but it’ll have to do.” She deadpanned before her laughter followed him into the kitchen.