Chapter 30
Cillian
It's the night before game seven of the Stanley Cup Final. Tied series, three wins each, and whoever wins tomorrow takes the Cup.
I'm out on the balcony, forearms on the railing, the whole glittering sweep of San Francisco laid out below me and the bay black and calm beyond it. The night air is cool off the water, and behind me, muffled through the glass, the sounds of a full apartment drift out.
My whole family flew in from Dublin this morning, and dinner is in full swing in there, Ellie's laugh rising over everyone's the way it has since she was six. I'm so fucking happy they're here. But a full table has a way of spotlighting the one person missing from it.
Margot’s last text from after game six is still open on my phone. Supportive, warm, telling me to stay focused, that she's feeling better. Maybe some of it's even true, but I know her, and I know what she's not saying. Fuck, I miss her. Sabrina's been keeping me updated at least.
All afternoon, sandwiched between media scrums and recovery sessions, I white-knuckled the urge to drive up to Napa and scoop her up.
But she asked for room to breathe, so I'm fucking giving it to her, even if the distance is gutting me.
Forcing it before she's ready would only push her further away.
The sliding door behind me glides open, and I turn to see Fiadh stepping out, clicking it shut to keep the noise inside.
She's carrying two beers. I give her a small nod as she settles in against the railing beside me, passing me a bottle, and both of us look out over the city lights glittering away toward the bay.
I tip the bottle back and take a long sip, the cold brew doing nothing to soothe the restless energy humming in my blood.
"So," she says, leaning her elbows on the rail. "Are we going to talk, or are we going to keep pretending you came out here for the night air?"
I snort. "I hate when you do that."
"Read you like a book? It's a gift." She clinks her bottle against mine. "Let’s start with something easier. The game tomorrow. Are you ready?"
I consider the question. "Aye. I'd hoped we'd put them away a bit easier than this, but I suppose the Cup isn't meant to come easy."
"That's life. It never hands over the easy version." She takes a sip. "Just don't let Brennan in your head again. That first game, when you lost your cool out there, I nearly climbed through the television."
"I know it. Cost us the game, and I've heard about it from every pundit in North America since."
"He riles you up because it's the only way he can beat you. When you're at your best, it's not even close, Cillian. Unfortunately he knows that, so he just tries to drag you down into the muck with him. The man is insufferable," she says, with a venom that makes me laugh.
We've always operated under the sibling code that if one of us hates someone, the other does too.
This did once lead to me shoving an older boy at school into a hedge because Fiadh said he was a gobshite, no further questions asked, and her clattering a lad twice her size across the ear because he laughed when I missed a penalty.
And the code extended double to the younger ones, because nobody made one of our sisters cry twice.
She glances over. "The knee's not acting up, then?"
"No, the physios have been at it round the clock," I say. "The body's about as good as it gets this deep into June. Which is to say, held together with tape and a healthy dose of stubbornness."
"And the head?" She smiles like she already knows the answer.
"The head's the complicated one." I take a sip. "Ask me tomorrow."
"Mm." She leans her elbows on the rail and looks at me sideways, blue eyes bright in the shadows. "And is that about the game, or about her?"
I groan, staring out at the dark water. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Absolutely not. I'm the eldest. It's my sacred duty."
"By fourteen months, Fee. Don't be pulling rank."
"Fourteen months is fourteen months, and the rank is real.
Law is law, and I'm the only qualified lawyer on this balcony, so you'll have to trust me on the legal specifics.
" She smiles, then lets her expression soften.
"For real, though. Are you out here debating whether to call her, or just moping in the dark? "
I sigh, taking another sip of my beer and staring out at the San Francisco lights blinking across the bay, thinking of Margot an hour away in Solstice Ridge and the distance I’ve no idea how to close.
"I just keep replaying our last conversation. I fucking knew she was getting anxious, and I could tell she was lying when I asked her about it, but I didn't push. I just let it slide because I was so focused on the Cup," I say, the guilt twisting in my gut. "She was drowning right in front of me."
"It's not your fault. She's been fighting that a lot longer than she's known you.
We're on similar medications, actually, she and I.
We talked about it in Dublin while you were busy getting fleeced by Lily at cards.
" She shrugs. "One conversation where you didn't push wasn't going to change what was coming. "
"Aye, well, she shouldn't have had to face it alone," I mutter, staring at the dark water of the bay. "Not when I was right there."
"She's not alone, you eejit. She's got her sister, her people, her therapist. What she asked you for was room, and you gave it to her.
" She jabs a finger into my chest. "You didn't fail her.
You loved her the way she was able to be loved that night.
There's a difference between missing something and causing it. "
I sigh deeply. "Aye. And I keep thinking, if I'd just pushed that night. One more question. If I'd..."
"If, if, if." She waves her bottle at me. "You'll make yourself crazy the night before the biggest game of your life, and she'd murder you for it."
I snort. "She would, actually."
"She'll come back, Cillian." She bumps her shoulder against mine. "And from what you've told me, and the little I know of her, I don't think she's running from you. I think she's trying to carry the whole thing alone so you can focus on the Cup. That is what she said, isn't it?"
"Aye, more or less." I roll the bottle between my palms. "And how am I meant to focus with her gone? She never did have an answer for that one."
"I'm not saying she's got it right." Fiadh shrugs.
"She's going through hell and trying to do right by you at the same time.
She has to learn it for herself, that disappearing isn't the way.
But you can't argue her out of it, and God knows you tried.
She loves you. She's just stuck in her own head, and everything landed on her at once.
The press, the whole world having opinions on her, then her ex turning up on top of it. She'll be back."
"You're pretty damn confident for someone who met her twice."
"Twice was plenty. I saw how she looked at you, and the way she talked about you when she was telling us all stories." She gives me a wicked grin. "It was clear as day even then how head over heels she was. Just as lovesick as you were."
"Thanks, Fee." I look over at her and clink my bottle against hers. "Not to get all soft, but I don't know what I'd do without you.”
She snorts into her beer, nudging my shoulder and smiling up at me.
"Aye, well, same to you, as much as it pains me to say it.
" She gives a slow shake of her head. "I never figured I'd be the one helping you navigate a broken heart.
Wonders will never cease. With the speed you used to cycle through girls, I'd begun to suspect you were missing a heart entirely. I figured you were just?—"
"I get the point, Fee." I laugh. "Call it my penance. It's collecting interest tonight."
"Payback for all those broken hearts," she teases with a playful nudge, and I can't help but smile.
We drink for a while in easy silence, the foghorn sounding somewhere out in the dark, the muffled rise and fall of my sisters' voices drifting through the glass behind us, Mam and Dad laughing at something in the middle of it.
For a minute it could be twenty years ago, the whole family under one roof, Fee and me hiding from the chaos together, same as always.
She glances over at me, and there's something almost shy in it, which is not a thing Fiadh does. "You know that partnership seat? The one I said I hadn't a prayer at?"
I turn toward her. "Aye, I remember."
She smiles wide. "Well you're looking at the youngest partner the firm has ever made."
"What? Holy shit, Fee!"
I pull her into a hug, half lifting her off her feet while she laughs into my shoulder, and when I set her down I hold her at arm's length to get a proper look at her. She's beaming, looking happier than I've seen her in years.
"Partner," I say, the word feeling heavy and right. "Fiadh. A fucking partner."
"I know. Apparently the fraud settlement did most of the arguing for me." She takes a sip of her beer. "Even Doyle shook my hand. It looked like it cost him a kidney, but he did it."
"And you've been sitting on this all through dinner?" I shake my head at her. "You could have told me the second you landed."
"I was going to. But you've been under so much pressure, and then with all the Margot stuff, I didn't want to come swanning in like, hey, look how great everything's going for me. So, nobody knows yet."
"I'd always be happy for you. No matter what is happening in my life." I point my bottle at her. "And we're celebrating this. Properly. Champagne, the works. This is huge, Fiadh. You've been grinding toward this for ages."
"Ah, it's grand, but you don't have to make a whole?—"
"It's huge, Fee. We’re celebrating."
She laughs, and this time she doesn't tamp the smile back down. "Okay. Yeah. It's pretty crazy, actually. I keep waking up in the morning just grinning about it like an idiot. Me. Partner. I was sure they'd give it to Doyle."
"They gave it to the best lawyer in the building. Shocking outcome, that."
She smiles. "Thanks. It was killing me not telling you. I'm so excited I can barely stand it. So you'd best win tomorrow, because I am not flying back to start a new job on a loss."
I laugh. "No pressure, then."
"None whatsoever."
"You'll give them hell, Fiadh. I'm so incredibly proud of you," I say, and I mean every word.
She smiles at me, clinking her bottle against mine one last time and pushing off the rail. "Right. Come inside before they all wonder where we’ve gone to."
"One minute. I'm right behind you."
She nods and slips back inside, the noise swelling and fading as the door opens and closes behind her. And then it's just me and the city and a window sixty miles north that I can't see and can't stop facing anyway.
Tomorrow, whoever wins the game takes everything.
And then, either way, I'm going to get Margot back.