It wasn’t that Simone was holding back with him. She threw herself into everything they did, whether it was riding a horse for the first time or making love in the walled garden at midnight. But it felt a little like love in wartime—a passion shared by two lovers who would never see each other again.
It wasn’t the present that Simone had trouble with. It was the future.
They wouldn’t be able to solve that problem just by talking about it. It was something that ran bone deep inside her—a conviction that only fools planned ahead.
Planning ahead meant counting on people and building on promises, and Simone had decided long ago not to put that pressure on herself or anyone else. She could love people in the moment, and accept love in the moment, but to put her faith in a future she couldn’t see or believe in was as terrifying to her as flying.
Maybe it was because she’d lost her mother so young and in such a terrible way. Maybe it was because her father had had an affair during that time. But Simone was more than the sum of her painful experiences; she’d also made choices in response to those experiences. She was one of the strongest and kindest people he’d ever known, but that strength and compassion had come at a cost.
She was a realist and a pessimist through and through.
She cared about people in spite of their flaws, which was admirable. But Simone’s belief in human frailty far outweighed her faith in human strength—and that would be a hard foundation to build a future on.
On their third-to-last day together he persuaded her to take a boat with him to see the Cliffs of Moher. She’d wanted to drive east to Dublin and spend the night there, but he talked her into the boat trip instead.
He loved Dublin and knew that Simone would, too, so he wasn’t sure why he was so set on seeing the cliffs.
As soon as they parked down at the dock he knew why.
The ocean off the west coast of Ireland wasn’t like the ocean in any other part of the world. There was a wildness and a strength and a beauty to it that he’d never found anywhere else.
Until he met Simone.
His plan was to charter a boat, something comfortable with an upper deck so they could sit back, stay dry, and watch the massive cliffs roll past. But when they arrived down at the dock there was no charter to be had.
“There’s a big wedding on Inishmore Island,” Zach said, coming out of the office. “They needed all the boats to ferry the guests.” He paused. “I suppose if you still want to see Dublin we could—”
Simone shook her head. The salt wind tossed her black hair around her face and whipped the color into her cheeks, and she looked like something out of Gaelic folklore—a selkie maiden or fairy changeling.
She wrapped her hands around his arm and smiled up at him. “We have to go out there. Can’t you smell the ocean?”
He nodded. “I’d love to take you, but—”
“We don’t have to charter a private boat. Let’s go on one of the tourist ferries. There’s one leaving in five minutes.”
He knew those ferries—they packed people in like sardines. “It won’t be very comfortable.”
She shrugged. “I don’t think comfort should be an evaluating factor.”
He wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders and smiled down into her eyes. “All right, then. The ferry it is.”
It was every bit as crowded as he’d feared, and because they were near the end of the line, the upper deck was full by the time they got on board.
“We should stay away from the sides,” Zach advised Simone as they moved with the crowd to the stern. “Down on the lower deck you’re liable to get wet.”
“But I want to see,” Simone objected, taking him by the hand and working her way to the port side. “We won’t get wet. We’re a good four feet above the water.”
“That might not be enough,” he warned her, but he knew he was wasting his breath. Simone leaned against the railing, and he stood next to her, feeling a rush of protectiveness when she snuggled up against him.
“Brr! It’s cold,” she said with a shiver, and he put an arm around her shoulders.
“The cabin’s heated if you want to go inside.”
The boat engines roared to life and they pulled away from the dock.
She shook her head. “We wouldn’t be able to see.”
“Sure we would. They’ve got big picture windows—not to mention seats and a cash bar.”
“I don’t want to look through windows. I want to feel the wind.”
The water was choppy. The farther out they went the rougher it got, and even though he did his best to provide stable support for Simone, she almost got thrown off her feet more than once.
They’d been facing into the waves as they motored out to sea, but now they turned south to cruise beside the cliffs.
Zach knew what was coming.
“Look,” he said. “I really think we should—”
A wave came over the side in an ice-cold gush, eliciting gasps and squeals from the passengers. About half of them rushed into the cabin, and Zach took Simone’s hand so they could follow.
“Where are you going? I want to stay out here!”
He gave her credit for being a good sport but he knew she had to be freezing. His legs were soaked from the thighs down, and even in August it felt like hypothermia could set it at any moment.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, hugging her against him. “I wanted this to be perfect for you.”
“But it is perfect. Look!”
He stared at her for a moment before turning his eyes toward the cliffs that rose above them in all their majestic glory, the waves of the Atlantic crashing at their feet.
He looked down at Simone again, her face rapt as she gazed up at the sight. She honestly didn’t give a damn that she was cold and wet and getting tossed from side to side in this glorified tin can of a boat.
Another wave rolled toward them. Zach moved behind Simone and braced his hands on either side of her, holding her securely between the railing and his body. She gasped when the water gushed over them, but when she turned to look at him, she was laughing, her head thrown back and her face flushed with exhilaration.
This was what their lives together could be like. A marriage between him and Simone would be wild, unexpected, exhilarating, and glorious . . . and comfort would never be an evaluating factor.
The boat pitched suddenly to starboard and Zach lost his hold. They went staggering across the deck, but he wrapped Simone in the safety of his arms before they crashed into the railing on the other side.
He grabbed the iron bar and looked down at Simone. “Are you all right? I’m sorry I—”
She put her arms around his neck and cut off his words with her mouth.
She tasted like the ocean. And as the two of them kissed in the salt spray of the Atlantic with the cry of the sea birds all around them, Zach knew that his life would be empty if he couldn’t share it with Simone.
Lying awake that night with Simone asleep beside him, he knew there was only one solution to his problem.
There were, however, a lot of problems with his solution.
An hour later and no closer to sleep, he slid out of bed, got dressed, and went downstairs to find himself a drink.
It was one o’clock in the morning and he didn’t expect to find anyone else up, but when he went into the bar, his mother and Glen were there. They were sitting on the sofa sharing a bottle of wine.
They looked so cozy together that Zach was about to leave without saying anything when his mother caught sight of him.
“Zach! Come have a glass with us. What are you doing up?”
He sat down in the leather wing chair beside the sofa and accepted the glass Glen handed him. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said.
“Where’s Simone? Will she be down, too?”
He and Simone ha
d given up trying to hide their relationship, but this was the first time his mother had said anything openly about the fact that they were now sharing a room—Simone’s room, since she’d fallen in love with it.
“She’s asleep,” Zach said.
“Ah.”
The three of them chatted for a while about the hotel, about Glen’s birds—one of the hawks had a damaged wing—and about A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which Julia and Glen had seen the week before and loved.
After a while Glen said good night, and then it was just Zach and his mother.
“You know,” Julia said, “that theater is for sale.”
“What theater?”
“The one you performed in, of course. You could buy it and start your own company right here in County Clare.” She paused. “Especially if you had a talented set designer working with you.”
Zach didn’t say anything to that. Instead he leaned back in the leather wing chair and gazed at the fire.
After a minute Julia spoke again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m a mother and I can’t help myself.” She sighed. “In case you hadn’t guessed, I really like Simone.”
He had to smile at that. “I really like her, too.” He paused. “In fact, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
Julia gasped. “Oh, Zach! That’s . . .” She stopped. “Why don’t you look happy?”
“Because I know what her answer will be.”
His mother’s face cleared. “Don’t be silly. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, my dear. She’s smitten. More smitten than you, if that’s possible.”
He shrugged. “It won’t matter. Simone doesn’t believe in romance. She doesn’t dream about getting married. Her plan for the future is to grow old in a nursing home, surrounded by strangers. That way no one can die on her, cheat on her, or otherwise abandon her.”
“Well,” his mother said, drawing her legs up and tucking them under her. “I’ve had a man die on me, and it was hell. But I wouldn’t have missed the time we had together for anything.”
He smiled at her. “I don’t think Simone looks at the world like that.”
“If you’re so convinced she’s going to say no, then why are you going to ask her?”
He slumped down in his chair. “Because I can’t not ask her. I’m in love. Head over heels crazy in love. I’ve been in love with her since the night we spent at her neighbors’. No, before that. I’ve been in love with her since we traded insults at her friend’s rehearsal dinner.” He sighed. “Simone is the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t do everything I can to win her.”
Julia’s eyes were bright. “Oh, Zach. Believe me, darling—if you propose like that, she won’t say no.”
He drained his wineglass and rose to his feet. “I wish I shared your optimism.”
She smiled up at him. “So when are you going to ask her?”
“I’m not sure yet. I have to wait for the perfect moment.”
The last three weeks with Zach had been heaven.
It wasn’t just the sex, although that was amazing. It wasn’t just working together on the play, although that had been amazing, too.
It was the stuff in between the work and the sex that made each day seem magical.
They talked for hours about everything in the world. They talked about their childhoods, their families, their first kisses. They talked about their favorite Shakespeare plays and traded quotes back and forth. They talked while they explored the west coast of Ireland and while they wandered around the grounds of the castle.
But all good things must come to an end, and now it was her very last day in Ireland. She and Zach were sitting on the grass in the walled garden he’d first shown her last week.
The day and the setting were so beautiful it hurt a little. For the first time since she’d been here, the blue sky above them didn’t have a single cloud in it. The air was warm but not hot, and the flowers in their secret garden were like an impressionist painting.
Zach had put together a picnic as a surprise for her. He laid down a plaid blanket on the green grass and brought out a basket filled with her favorite treats from the castle kitchen—tiny sandwiches and scones and homemade bread and butter and the Irish cheeses she’d fallen in love with.
And then, of course, there was the champagne.
It was called Belle Epoque, and the name—as well as the exquisite flavor and frothy effervescence—was the perfect metaphor for the time they’d shared in Ireland.
After they’d finished their food and their champagne, they fell silent. Zach was leaning back on his elbows, Simone was leaning against him with her arms wrapped around her knees, and they were watching the fountain in the center of the garden.
“What are you thinking?” Zach asked after a while, kissing the back of her neck.
How could she feel so happy and so sad at the same time?
“I was thinking that I’m really going to miss you,” she said, wincing at the catch in her voice. She didn’t want to ruin their last day together by being sad that it was over. That wasn’t her style.
Zach shifted behind her, and then the warm, solid weight of him was gone.
Before she had time to miss it, he was standing in front of her—and then he was kneeling in front of her, and there was a ring in the palm of his hand.
“Simone, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
It was so perfect, so romantic, that for a moment she didn’t believe it was happening. Was Zach Hammond really kneeling down in front of her in the castle garden, holding out a diamond ring that shone and flashed in the sun?
She looked at his face, so strong and handsome and earnest. His blue eyes were full of love—a love she knew was real even if nothing else seemed real, because it was the same love she felt in her heart.
But then, just like it had on the airplane, panic gripped her.
“You said good-bye to Isabelle three weeks ago.”
He frowned. “What does Isabelle have to do with us?”
She hugged her knees tighter. “You had her up on a pedestal for years. Now that she’s fallen off of it, you need someone to take her place. I know you think you love me, but . . . what if that’s all I am? A placeholder for your fantasy woman?”
Zach put the ring back in his pocket and leaned toward her. “You’re not a placeholder for anyone or anything. Simone, you—”
She couldn’t let him finish. “Zach, this has been the most magical time of my life. But that’s the problem.” She scrambled to her feet. “Magic doesn’t last. Magic isn’t real. You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known and . . . and . . .” She took a breath, and then she said it. “And I love you. But I’m not the woman who can make you happy. We don’t fit. You’re romance and idealism and I’m cynicism and rough edges. And even though it was wonderful for a while, I’m not a romance person. I’m a real person. I’m a real person, and I don’t think you could deal with me. Not for a lifetime.” To her horror, she started to cry. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. Zach, I—I’m sorry.”
The worst part was, she knew how easy it would be to transform the pain in Zach’s eyes into joy. How easy it would be to transform her own pain into joy—at least for a little while.
All she had to do was say yes. Never had any word in the English language tempted her with such terrible power. But if she said it, how long would their happiness last before Zach’s dream of forever came crashing down to earth? He would change, or she would—or both of them. And the pain of that—of losing Zach after letting herself believe they could share a lifetime together—wouldn’t just hurt like she was hurting now.
It would be the kind of hurt she would never recover from.
If she got out now, she would survive. But if she waited even
one more minute . . .
Panic clawed at her, and she knew she had to go. She looked at Zach once more, knowing it would be the last time, and then she ran.
She’d packed her suitcases that morning, so all she had to do was stuff her toothbrush in her purse. She called a cab, and while she waited for it to arrive, she hid behind the potted shrub at the front door.
She felt awful for not saying good-bye to Julia, but she couldn’t stand the idea of facing the woman who would have made the best mother-in-law in the entire world.
But when she thought about Zach, she felt more than awful.
She felt like dying.
She spent a miserable night at the airport hotel, staring at the cracked ceiling and hating herself. But she knew that the very fact that she’d run away from Zach meant she wasn’t the right woman for him.
The next morning, sitting in Shannon Airport, she was almost too miserable to be worried about flying.
She pulled out her cell phone and stared at it. Zach had tried to reach her several times yesterday but not once today. Maybe he’d finally accepted what seemed so obvious to her.
She still had half an hour to wait before they’d start boarding her flight. If she was going to die in an airplane crash, who did she want her last call to be to?
The obvious answer was Zach. She couldn’t marry him, but she loved him. As long as she lived, she would never love anyone else.
But she couldn’t call Zach. Not if she wanted to get out of Ireland alive in order to die over the Atlantic.
Kate, maybe? She’d loved Kate a lot longer than she’d loved Zach.
But as she stared at the phone in her hands, she realized that there was someone in the world she’d loved even longer—someone she needed to talk to.
She scrolled through her contacts and dialed a number in Ohio.
The phone on the other end rang and a familiar voice answered. “Hello?”
“Dad, it’s me.”
“Hey there, sweetie! Are you in Ireland or back in New York?”
“I’m in Ireland, but I’m at the airport. I’ll be home today.”
Nothing Like Love Page 19
