by Mari Carr
Ailis smiled. “I love you too.”
Epilogue
Pop Pop was kicked back in his comfy chair when Ailis arrived. The tour was winding down after nine months of nonstop movement, and she’d decided to grab a quick weekend at home in Baltimore. Hunter had planned to come along, but at the last minute, he’d grabbed a slot on The Tonight Show. As such, the bus had dropped her off before heading on north. He’d return tomorrow, and they’d spend one night in the dorm before moving on again.
“Hey, Pop Pop,” she said as she entered.
He stood, a little more slowly than he would have a couple of years ago, but that didn’t matter when he wrapped her up in his seriously strong embrace.
“There’s my girl. Where’s Hunter?”
“New York for the night. But he’ll be back tomorrow and he’s hoping the two of you can grab a Guinness at the pub for old time’s sake.”
“Well now, lass, have you ever known me to turn down an offer of a pint?”
She laughed. “Never.”
“Sit down here with me and tell me all about the tour.”
Ailis grabbed the chair next to him and spent the better part of an hour telling him all the places they’d been, while sharing funny stories of life on the road that she knew he would embellish and retell his cronies at the pub.
Occasionally, Pop Pop managed to get a word in or ask a question. It took her a while to realize she was worse than a damn telemarketer, and she grinned guiltily.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Never apologize for sharing your happiness, Ailis. I must admit, you’re a sight for these sore old eyes.”
She started to tell another story, but her gaze landed on Pop Pop’s wall of photographs. For as long as she could remember, her frame had held a picture of her taken in the library her junior year of college. Pop Pop had latched on to and refused to change it because he said it captured her essence. And for so many years, it had. It revealed an intelligent, serious, quiet, thoughtful…mouse. She’d always thought she looked pretty in it, and she’d taken Pop Pop’s comment about her essence as a compliment.
But now… She stood up and walked closer.
“Where did you get this picture?” she asked, leaning forward to study the photograph. It was a fun one of her and Hunter standing together outside the pub. They were wrapped up in coats and she was curled up behind him, hugging him as he looked over his shoulder at her as if she hung the moon.
“Riley snapped it with her phone a few days after Hunter made it to the third round of February Stars. Really captures the two of you, doesn’t it?”
It did. It revealed best friends in the beginning phases of falling madly in love with each other. And the coolest part was, Ailis suspected if Aunt Riley snapped another picture of them tomorrow, it would still look the same.
No, it would look better. Because the girl in this photo hadn’t allowed herself to believe in love and trust and happiness and forever. She knew better now.
“I love it,” she whispered.
“Aye, my lovely Ailis, you finally pulled the veil away, revealed your beauty to the world.”
Ailis recalled the story her Pop Pop used to tell her when she was just a little girl. She’d always thought it was a prelude to peek-a-boo and the two of them would play as she giggled.
“You know, I looked that story up online once. In the version I read, she was a witch and she wore the veil so people wouldn’t die at the sight of her.”
Pop Pop chuckled. “Creative license. Story like that would scare a little girl. Besides, it was the moral I was trying to get you to see. You were such a shy little thing, hiding behind your mother.”
She rolled her eyes. “Pop Pop. I was four.”
Her grandfather didn’t reply. Instead, he gave her that look that told her he could wait all day if necessary until she said what he was waiting to hear.
“Fine. The moral wasn’t lost on me.”
He winked. “Glad to hear it. Though I have to say, it took you a while.”
Ailis walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “It took me way too long to figure out who I was, who I wanted to be.”
“Given you just talked my fool ear off about everything you and Hunter have been getting into, I think it’s safe to say you’ve found your place in the world.”
“I have,” she said. “Actually, I didn’t just come home for a visit. I wanted to…” She lifted the engagement ring Hunter had given her last weekend.
“Well, look at that.” Pop Pop held her hand as he looked at her ring. It was a freaking rock and a half, and she told Hunter he’d lost his mind when he proposed—after she’d put it on her finger, said yes and cried a few minutes. When Pop Pop glanced at her again, there were tears in his eyes. “I’m so happy for you, sweet girl. Feel so damn blessed every day I’m still here to watch you kids grow into such successful, loving people.”
His kind words were her undoing, and she sniffled as she hugged him.
“Sunday would have loved your young man. Like to think the two of them might have picked up their guitars and played us both a fine song.”
She laughed through her tears. “I would’ve loved to hear that.”
“Instead, I don’t have a doubt she’s singing along in heaven. Probably knows all the words to Hunter’s songs by now.”
“Les keeps threatening to retire in a few years. He wants me to take over managing Mom and Dad, as well as Hunter.”
“Sounds like a lot of work. Sure you’re up to it?”
Ailis shook her head. “No, I’m sure I’m not.”
Pop Pop frowned. “Now, Ailis—”
She held up her hand. “Not because I don’t think I’m capable. But because Hunter and I want to start a family.”
Pop Pop’s smile grew wide. “Did you tell Les that?”
“Not yet.”
“Lead with that. Guarantee you the man will work until he’s a hundred if it means you’ll bring babies into his world. Always sort of felt like you and Fiona got an extra uncle with Les in your lives, not that you didn’t have enough to begin with.”
“That’s good advice. I’ll make sure to pass my plans for the future along to him.”
Pop Pop took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Always knew you’d do great things, my beautiful witch.”
She laughed as she kissed him on the cheek before whispering in his ear, “Boo!”
* * *
I hope you enjoyed this book in the Wilder Irish series. The next book, Padraig’s story, Wild Devotion, is available now. Life isn't measured in time. It's measured in moments...
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Have you read the entire Wilder Irish series? All the books are standalone, so they can be read in any order. Be sure to check out all of them!
Wild Passion
Wild Desire
Wild Devotion
Wild at Heart
Wild Temptation
Wild Kisses
Wild Fire
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Turn the page to read the first chapter of Wild Devotion, available now.
Wild Devotion: March
Please enjoy this sneak peek at the first chapter in Mari Carr’s Wilder Irish series, Wild Devotion.
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Padraig Collins glanced up when the front door of Pat’s Pub opened, sending a gust of the coldest air the Inner Harbor could produce into the bar. It knocked the temperature inside down another degree or three. Mia Curtis made her way to the bar, took off her heavy coat and hung it on the back of her usual stool. He waved and pointed at the tray of drinks in his hand, indicating he’d be with her in just a second.
Of course, it was more than a second, as the older couple at the table wanted
to make small talk about the “damn cold weather” and how March had come in like a lion and was going out as one, as well. They were just a few days away from April, but no one could tell that from the frigid wind that seemed to blow nonstop.
After a murmured “I hear you” and “you’re so right about that,” he returned to the bar, stopping first to check on the other two tables of customers. Business was slower than usual, probably because nobody wanted to risk frostbite just for a draft beer.
He snuck a quick peek at Mia as one of the tables requested their check. She’d moved to Baltimore four months earlier, renting an apartment across the cobblestone street from the pub. She’d only been in the city a few days when she’d ventured over to Pat’s Pub for dinner.
As seemed to be the habit of most lonely souls, she’d opted for a spot at the end of the long mahogany bar rather than claiming a table of her own. Padraig was used to making small talk with folks who came in to dine alone, and Mia had been no exception.
Since that first night, she’d come over once or twice a week for dinner and he always enjoyed her company.
Padraig smiled as he walked behind the counter. As he made his way down the bar to her, he poured her a glass of Chardonnay, her usual order. She wasn’t looking at him, but instead she was staring at the counter, very deep in thought.
“You’re a brave soul.”
She jerked at the sound of his voice, and he realized she really had to be distracted, not to notice him standing right in front of her.
“What?” she asked.
“I said you’re a brave soul. To venture out in this godforsaken March wind. You’re one of the few.”
She nodded, but didn’t reply.
Padraig frowned. It wasn’t like her not to hop in on any conversation. He tried again. “Let me guess. There’s no food in your house and you’re here in search of dinner. Tonight’s special is—”
“I don’t think I’m eating.”
“Oh. Okay. You feeling alright?”
“Yeah.”
As far as reassurances went, Padraig was fairly certain that was the worst in history. Something was obviously bothering her, but Padraig didn’t feel right prying. It wasn’t like they were friends. In truth, apart from the innocuous conversations they had about sports, the weather and his tips on how to survive in Baltimore as she ate her dinner, he didn’t know much about Mia.
“Well, tell you what. Why don’t you wave me over if you decide you want some food?”
She nodded, but she was already looking away, her eyes distant as whatever was bothering her crept back in.
Padraig tidied up the bar, poured another round for his cousin, Finn, who was indulging in an extended happy hour with some of his friends, and snuck more than a few glances at the hockey game playing on one of several televisions in the bar.
Through it all, Mia sat at the counter without speaking, her wine untouched.
He left her alone for nearly forty-five minutes before he broke. He possessed more than his fair share of Collins blood, which meant it wasn’t in his genetic makeup to let anyone be sad in his presence.
Besides, he’d caught several unguarded expressions, and while he didn’t know what was wrong, he could tell it was big.
“Only got a couple more weeks until the Stanley Cup playoffs. Caps are going all the way this year.” He figured that would jerk her out of her depression. Mia, a Chicago native, was nothing if not loyal to her Blackhawks.
“Cool.”
He frowned at her distracted response. He tried again. “Blackhawks don’t stand a chance this year. Loaded the bench with too many showboats. Bunch of damn cherry pickers and no defense.”
She nodded, and he realized she wasn’t listening to him.
He leaned down, resting his elbows on the bar so that his face was level with hers. He waited until she lifted her downcast gaze and met his. Again, he got the sense she was startled to see him there.
“Caps own the ice this year,” he said, trying once more to evoke a response.
“Okay.” The words were little more than a whisper.
He narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong, Mia?”
For the first time, his words penetrated. Unfortunately, not in a great way. Her green eyes filled with tears that she tried desperately to blink away.
“I shouldn’t have come here. I just…”
“What is it?” he prodded, his concern growing. While Mia was essentially a stranger, his protective instincts rose to the forefront.
“I should go.” She dug in her purse for her wallet to pay for the wine, but he waved her away.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You didn’t drink it.”
“But—”
“You didn’t even order it. I’m not taking your money, Mia.”
She put her wallet away and stood, shrugging on her heavy coat. Padraig studied her face more closely as she did so. She was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her body was rigid, and he got the sense she was just barely holding herself together.
He tried again. “If you need someone to talk to…”
Mia looked up at him and for a second, he thought she might take him up on the offer. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but then she closed it again, swallowing heavily.
Padraig felt helpless to comfort her, something he didn’t experience often. He sort of prided himself on his ability to cheer people up. God knew, as a bartender, he’d had plenty of opportunities to hone that skill over the past ten years. He’d started working at the pub during high school. Unlike his twin brother, Colm, school was not his thing. Over the years, he’d bussed tables, then waited them, and once he hit twenty-one, his dad, Tris, taught him everything there was to know about mixing drinks.
Dad had always run the pub side of Pat’s Pub with Aunt Kiera and Ewan managing Sunday’s Side. Padraig had only been tending bar a couple of years when his father decided the two of them should split the head bartender duties. His dad held the reins during the daylight hours and Padraig took over at night.
“Thanks again for the drink,” Mia said, her voice barely audible.
He nodded, but he was already invisible to her again as she turned and left, letting in a whoosh of the freezing winter air.
Padraig remained where he was for about a minute before walking out from behind the counter and over to Finn.
“Hey, cuz. Can you do me a favor? Cover the bar for a few minutes? I need to take care of something real quick.”
Finn rose without hesitation. “Sure thing.” He jerked his head toward the counter. “Come on, guys. Grab your drinks and we’ll carry on over there.”
Padraig rushed toward the front door, slightly annoyed when Finn called out to him.
“You’re going outside?” Finn asked.
“Yeah.”
Finn gestured to his coat, still lying in the booth he’d just vacated. “Wear my coat or you’ll freeze your nuts off.”
Padraig grabbed the jacket, pulling it on as he rushed outside. The cold air hit him like a brick to the face, his chest ironically burning from the chill as he breathed.
He thought he’d have to race to catch up with Mia, so he was surprised to discover she was still standing just outside the pub.
“Mia,” he said, stepping next to her.
She glanced at him with a dull expression.
“Kind of cold to hang about too long.”
It occurred to him that she hadn’t even noticed the temperature until he mentioned it.
“It doesn’t bother me.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “Pretty sure you’re the only person in Baltimore who feels that way. Is this Chicago conditioning?”
She shook her head, not offering anything more. Her eyes drifted away from him, and he recalled why he’d chased after her.
“Mia,” he said firmly, waiting until she faced him. “What’s wrong?”
She pressed her eyes closed tightly, but she was too late to trap in the tears that fell d
own her cheeks.
Padraig acted on instinct, reaching out and tugging her toward him for a hug. She accepted his embrace without hesitance, no longer bothering to hide her crying.
He held her, not sure what else to do. He was no stranger to crying. His time at the pub ensured he’d consoled more than his fair share of women—and sometimes even men—who’d consumed too much alcohol and sobbed out their woes.
This time felt different. For one thing, Mia wasn’t drunk. And for another, her pain seemed bone-deep, more grief than lost love or job.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s okay.”
She pulled away at the sound of his voice and for the first time since she’d walked into the pub, he felt like she was finally seeing him.
“Padraig?” she shuddered. “I…I’m…” Her words came out in starts and stops as she struggled to catch her breath between barely contained sobs. “S-sorry.”
He started to reach for her again, wishing there was some way he could console her. He didn’t know her well, but he hated seeing her in such intense pain. She took another step away, shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to…fall apart…” Even as she spoke, the tears continued. She was losing the fight to regain control of her emotions.
“It’s okay, Mia. I’m here. I’d like to help if you’d let me.”
She pressed a gloved hand to her trembling lips. “You can’t. No one…”
“What is it? Please. Tell me what happened.”
Mia looked down, sucking in several deep breaths as she tried once more to stop crying.
“Did someone die? Someone you love?” he asked gently.
He regretted the question the moment she crumpled. Completely.
She fell into his arms and sobbed, her agony almost palpable.
Padraig held her for several minutes, just let all the pain find its way to the surface and out. He rocked her slowly in his arms as he tried to recall what he knew about Mia Curtis.
