Epilogue
Juniper
“Cuttin’ it close there, June!” Mike rolls the words together in his beefy Brooklyn accent. As I set the champagne on the counter, he nods in recognition. “Glad you saw. Got those just for you.”
“I always notice when these babies are in stock. Thanks for putting my fave on the shelf for the holidays.”
Mike bags my wine, and I ask him what his children and wife are up to for the evening. An enormous smile blooms on his face, and he pulls out his phone.
“This was an hour ago.” In the image, his oldest son snuggles his daughter on a polka-dotted couch, both of them passed out. “We let the kids stay up since it’s a special night, but they never quite get to midnight. Maybe next year. And you? These ain’t all yours?” He sets the packed bags on the counter. “’Cause this may make for a fun New Year’s Eve, but I’d hate to see you tomorrow.”
The bell on the door chimes, and in walks Aidan. Those green eyes look heart-stoppingly gorgeous coming in from a snowstorm. He shakes white flecks off his camera, and then off himself, onto the welcome mat.
“Mike, this is Aidan, my boyfriend.” Boyfriend . I used to avoid that title at all costs. Instead, knowing we’re together makes warmth swirl in my chest. It sparks an involuntary smile.
“Lovely to meet you,” Aidan says.
“Same. June’s told me lots about you. How’s New York?”
Aidan appears dumbstruck by the word mashup coming from Mike. He lands on grand as a response. Mike then talks about a trip he took to Dublin with some buddies in the ’80s, while tapping away at the keys of the cash register.
Bodega man? Aidan mouths to me, and I nod with a giggle. Luckily, the Times Square coverage on the television drowns me out.
“You two stay warm. And Happy New Year!” I turn back to catch Mike winking at me.
Most New York winters don’t turn this brutal this early, but the wind, ice, and cold bite at our exposed skin. The poor weather made sightseeing the past few days a frantic dance of bundling into layers to walk to the train, sweating profusely underneath those layers in the subway, and then spending five minutes or more undressing at our destination.
At least the unbearable temperature, plus the threat of a December 31 snowstorm, convinced Cara that watching the ball drop in person would be an utter nightmare. We all would have happily put on every last article of clothing for her if that’s what she wanted, but what a relief that those plans changed. We opted for a small party at my apartment instead.
“Hold on, stand right there.” Aidan sets the bag of champagne on the ground and dares to pull off a glove, a brave move considering we’ve walked ten feet, and my face has already started to go numb. He raises the camera, and his mouth opens slightly while adjusting some settings with his forefinger.
“Where should I look?” I ask through chattering teeth. I still feel awkward in all the photos he takes of me, like my arms and hands are foreign objects. But he assures me I’m perfect.
“The lighting with all the snowflakes is incredible out here.”
Aidan decided against grad school and followed his heart, rather than play by all the rules and expectations. In the past month, he landed a few solid assignments, which didn’t surprise me. Work will only get busier for him after the holidays. Most of what he’s working on keeps him local to Ireland, which is good since he still wants to stay close to his parents, especially with his mom going to grief counseling. He likes to be around if they need him. In the coming year, though, he has two trips lined up for work. I love seeing him in his element, walking around with his camera as an extension of himself. In a way, it’s like getting to know him all over again and getting to know him deeper.
Plus, I have to admit, he’s pretty sexy when he’s working.
Once neither of us can bear the chill anymore, we scurry up to my apartment. The sound of jolly holiday music plays from the speakers, and I dig my keys out of my purse.
Aidan stops before opening the door, leaning over to kiss me. His lips alone warm my entire body. As his tongue meets mine, I think back to this morning in bed and where that tongue had been. Heat rushes to my cheeks.
“I love you,” he says between kisses.
My body turns into a puddle. I won’t ever tire of hearing him tell me that—the way it makes my heart shoot around my ribcage like a little ball in a pinball machine. I also can’t get enough of saying it back.
“I love you, too.”
When we walk in, Lis squeals. “Just in time!”
She enlists Aidan’s help in taking a few photos of her and her date—a man she only met two weeks ago but is convinced will become her future husband. I grab the bag of wines and slide the bottles into the fridge.
“All extremities intact?” Yaz walks over with Cara right behind her.
“Think so. I’m regaining sensation in my face too, which is nice.” I pass the last bottle to Cara, who immediately unwraps the foil. “You’re not too bummed out about Times Square?”
“We’d have been miserable,” Yaz says.
“Agreed.” Cara points to the television, which is broadcasting live from Forty-Second Street. “Check out that sorry lot.”
A huddling crowd shivers while a nearby reporter talks to the camera. His nose has a frozen snot icicle dangling off the tip.
“I’m here with my favorite people in the world,” she smiles while offering me a fresh glass of sparkling wine. “Besides, we can plan that for next New Year’s.”
Whenever Cara talks about the experiences we’ll have together in the future, her voice contains zero doubt. We aren’t related by blood, but we’ve become closer than I suspect a lot of sisters are. She’s one of my closest friends along with Lis, and seeing the two of them hit it off makes me feel like the luckiest woman alive.
“Bubbly?” Yaz holds up the bottle and walks over to fill glasses for everyone.
I savor this moment. Not because I worry it will slip through my fingers, but because it’s mine to cherish. Because moments like these aren’t finite like I used to think, or reserved only for certain people. I have plenty more like this in store, even if I don’t know what next year’s holiday season will be like. All I really need is an internet connection and a computer, and with Aidan’s business taking off, he won’t be tied to one place either. In fact, in a couple weeks, I’ll join him on his assignment in Barcelona and work on some stories there. We’ve got other plans too—he’ll come to New York in the spring, and I’ll spend a few months in Ballygrá this summer. We’re thinking about Thailand in the fall, just for fun. Although we can’t live in the same country together permanently yet, that won’t stop us from seeing each other while seeing the world.
I walk into the living room where Evvie and Roger plant a kiss on each of my cheeks.
“Thank you for hosting, love,” Evvie says.
“It’s a real New York experience,” I say as I squeeze past her. “More crowded than any bar would be.”
The apartment I share with Lis doesn’t leave us much furniture for people to sit on or space to move around, but no one seems to mind. I make room by selflessly using Aidan’s lap as my seat.
We’re packed into my tiny third-floor walk-up, half watching the television as we talk and laugh. It’s loud. It’s cramped. And it’s perfect.
“It’s moving!” Cara claps her hands together as the countdown to a new year begins.
Aidan loops his arm around me and nuzzles his face into my neck. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “I am.”
Three.
Two.
One.
Thank you for reading The Half of It .