by Mari Carr
Riley promised to bring the food right out and, once more, she and Padraig were alone. Not that Mia expected that to last long. Family members appeared to crawl out of the woodwork around here.
“I really do appreciate your mom’s willingness to go see the doctor with me.”
Padraig reached across the table and took her hand. “I’d like to go too, if that’s alright with you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I have a bunch of questions for your doctor myself.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Spent the better part of the weekend talking to my mom and looking some stuff up online. Apparently, treatment plans and such depend on the size and location of the tumor. And just because this guy doesn’t see much hope—”
“Any,” she corrected. “He doesn’t see any.”
Padraig frowned. “My mom has the name of a brain surgeon. One of the best in the country. She has some connections and thinks she can get you in to see him. We’re not packing it in just yet.”
Again with the word “we.” Mia couldn’t believe how such a tiny two-letter word could provoke such a powerful, overwhelming feeling of happiness inside her.
Padraig glanced around the room and, for a moment, she thought he actually looked a little nervous.
“Listen,” he began. “Before any more of my family makes their way over here, I wanted to talk to you about something important.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve been giving a lot of thought to your list.”
“My list?”
“The things you thought you would do before you died.”
Mia recalled Friday night and how she’d rattled off all of her regrets. “Oh. Yeah. What about it?”
“I think I can help you achieve them.”
She frowned. “Which ones?”
“All of them.”
Mia considered his comment, then decided he must be joking. There was no way she could accomplish even half of the things she’d mentioned. “That’s not possible.”
“You’re wrong.”
She was starting to recognize Padraig’s “stubborn” tone, the sound that emerged whenever he was determined to do whatever he wanted despite her arguments.
“Padraig,” she argued, “I’m not even going to get past number one.”
“Maybe not right away, but…”
“But?” she prodded.
“Let’s focus on the others first. You have a passport?”
Mia nodded numbly, trying to figure out if Padraig was kidding or not. He’d promised her a lifelong friend, which for them meant two people with a pretend past and a short-term future.
“Good. We’re going to tackle Paris by way of Harry Potter World.”
“Florida isn’t on the way to France.”
Padraig laughed. “It will be the way we do it.”
Mia fell silent when Riley appeared and placed a basket of freshly baked bread on their table. All she said was, “You look hungry,” before she returned to the kitchen.
“Listen,” Mia began. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I’m actually overwhelmed by all of,” she lifted her hands and gestured toward his family, “this. But you have your own life to live, Padraig. I don’t expect you to put everything on hold just because I have this stupid tumor in my head.” She rubbed her brow, realizing the dull ache that was always there was less painful tonight than it had been in a long time. Probably because Padraig was distracting her. Typically, she was alone with too much time to think. And feel.
“Hear me out, Mia. The other night, when you started making that list, I realized something.”
“What’s that?”
“None of us get any guarantees in life. I sat in your living room and listened to all your dreams, and I realized many of them were the same as mine. We have a chance to chase a few of them together.”
“Padraig. I can assure you. I’m not going to be great company. In addition to my constant headaches, I’m bound to be an emotional train wreck. You can’t honestly think that sounds like a good time.”
He didn’t appear to agree. “You can be anything you want to be, Mia. Happy, sad, angry. I suspect you’ll be all of those in the months to come. But you have to remember something. Life isn’t measured in years. It’s measured in moments. I want to be there for your moments.”
Mia swallowed heavily, certain she’d never heard a more beautiful request. If only they’d started talking before…
Before.
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe Harry Potter World was on your bucket list,” she said, trying to lighten the moment, trying to make this very sweet man understand that, while she would be forever grateful for his kindness, she couldn’t let him turn his world upside down for her.
Padraig gave her a wicked grin. “I can go upstairs right now and bring down my Seamus Finnigan wand.”
She laughed. “Please tell me you’re kidding. Who owns a Seamus wand?”
“Might have been a gag gift from my brother Colm for Christmas a couple of years ago. Got drunk one night during a Harry Potter marathon—okay, drinking game, my cousins have issues when it comes to parties—and went on a rant about how Voldemort never would have made it to book seven if there’d been more Irish in the series.”
Mia pressed her hand over her mouth, trying not to keep laughing. “I’m not going to lie. That explanation just raises more questions in my mind. You were playing a Harry Potter drinking game?”
“We took a shot of whiskey every time they said He Who Must Not Be Named.”
“First of all, that’s sacrilegious, and I hope you’ll invite me the next time you play. Colm seriously got you a Seamus wand?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t even know they made a Seamus one.”
“Had my Irish on that night. The name Seamus always reminds me of an old Irish folktale my Pop Pop told me when I was a kid. Not going to lie. Colm gave the wand to me as a joke, but I like it. Feel like maybe there’s a bit of magic fighting to get out of me.”
“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” she said, giving in. “Maybe Harry Potter is on your list, but Paris?”
“You’re joking, right? Tour de France? FIFA?”
Mia shook her head. “It’s beginning to occur to me that I’ll never win an argument with you.”
Padraig leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Good. Glad we’ve crossed that bridge early. Now we can stop wasting time.”
“What bridge?”
“The one where you keep fighting me. Here’s what’s going to happen next. We’re going to the doctor tomorrow and getting some answers. If this is something we can fight, we will.”
“And if not?” she forced herself to ask.
“We start working our way down that bucket list.
5
April 3
Padraig wiped up the counter with a vengeance as he replayed everything that had happened yesterday. The visit to Dr. Richards hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped.
Somewhere between Friday night and Tuesday afternoon, he’d convinced himself the doctor had been wrong. He’d imagined walking into that office and discovering that Mia had misunderstood some part of the diagnosis and cure. He’d been convinced there was something that could save her. After all, modern medicine was finding cures to diseases every day, discovering new ways to perform surgery, so how could there still be such a thing as an inoperable brain tumor?
She was too young, too healthy, too…well, she was too great to die.
So he’d convinced himself it had all been some big mistake. When Dr. Richards confirmed that Mia’s hearing and understanding were just fine, he’d latched on to the next piece of hope—the second opinion.
Dr. Richards agreed to send Mia’s records to the specialist his mom knew, but last night, after they’d dropped Mia off at her apartment, his mom had come back to the pub with him, joined him at the bar for a G
uinness, and warned him not to get his hopes up in that very gentle voice she used when she knew he was destined for disappointment.
Since then, he’d been walking around in a state of rage, barking at anyone who got in his way.
“You’re not answering your phone. You keep sending me to voicemail.”
He looked up at Kelli and scowled. She’d called a few times since Saturday, but he’d ignored her. Part of him was afraid she’d call him a fool for his determination to marry Mia.
No, he wasn’t afraid of her telling him that. He was more afraid of realizing she was right.
He’d lived his entire life under a lucky star, more often than not, finding a way to get anything he wanted. It didn’t look like that was going to happen this time—and he was pissed as fuck.
“Wow.” Kelli sat down at the bar. “Who peed in your cornflakes?”
“I didn’t answer the phone because I’m not in the mood to chitchat.”
“Yeah,” Kelli said, not taking heed of the dark tone in his voice. “I can see that. So…what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled, turning away from her.
“Try again.”
“Goddammit, Kell. Why can’t you catch a fucking clue?”
“Is it that Brooke woman? Did she dump you? Want me to go kick her ass?”
Kelli had been his friend too many years to be afraid of his foul moods. He’d foolishly told Mia this was the kind of relationship he wanted with her. Now he was reconsidering. There was something to be said about the ability to scare people away. “It’s not Brooke.”
“Yeah. I didn’t think you were that into her. So what is it? You and Colm in a fight?”
He shook his head. Her guessing was wearing him out. It was also diffusing his fury. “No. We’re fine.”
“Well, I know it’s not the Caps because they won last night. And I know it’s not me, because I’m fucking awesome, so I give up. Why are you being a dick?”
His shoulders slumped, resignation creeping in. He sort of preferred the rage. “I just got some bad news about a friend.”
Kelli frowned. “Oh man. I’m sorry. What happened?”
“One of our regulars.” He paused. Calling Mia a regular felt wrong. Like he was downplaying who she was. “A friend of mine has been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. She’s dying.”
“Shit,” Kelli whispered. “Who?”
“Her name is Mia Curtis. She usually sits—”
Kelli cut him off, pointing toward Mia’s usual spot. “Oh my God! The redhead from Chicago?”
He nodded, stunned. “How the hell do you know who she is?” Kelli was also a regular at the pub, but she typically sat at a table with his cousins or her friends from work.
Kelli Peterson was Mia’s complete opposite when it came to social circles. Mia’s were small—practically nonexistent—while Kelli seemed to know and like every single person in the city.
“She was always here on competition nights when February Stars was going on. I was standing next to her one night, waiting for your slow ass to fix me a drink, and we started talking.” Kelli gave him a wicked grin and wiggled her eyebrows. “We hung out once or twice during the shows after that. Damn. I really like her.”
He rolled his eyes and imagined their conversations. “Let me guess, you were both going on and on about how fine Hunter’s ass is. You’re going to have to rein in that lust whenever Ailis is around.”
“Why?” Kelli asked. “Ailis and I have had countless discussions about Hunter’s ass, and she agrees with me. Anyway, Mia and I only chatted a couple times—I don’t even think I told her my name, and only knew hers because you said it when you brought her a drink. And we didn’t chat about Hunter. It was about you.”
“Me?”
“The first time, you were in the midst of some big debate with Finn, regarding the odds on all the bets being placed on the competition. I think she thought the two of you were fighting, and she was worried. I explained that trash talk and gambling were part of the Collins family fabric, and you were essentially a dopey, oversized puppy dog who wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
Padraig blew out an annoyed breath. “Thanks a lot. You go on and on about Hunter’s fine ass and all I get is dopey, oversized puppy dog. You suck as a wingman. Which is why Colm will remain best man in my wedding.”
Kelli had been begging Padraig to drop his twin like a bad habit when he finally decided to get married, volunteering to stand in as best woman. They’d teased each other about it for years, Padraig holding it over her head every time she annoyed him.
“How was I supposed to know you were interested? Last I heard, the new girl’s name was Brooke. I didn’t realize you and Mia even knew each other that well.”
They didn’t. And yet, somehow Padraig was starting to feel like he knew Mia better than anyone.
Mia had remained calm throughout the visit with the doctor, finding a strength he knew he’d never possess. She asked good questions, listened intently to the answers and, throughout all of it, never fell apart. Not even when they were back in the car.
Instead, she and his mom chatted about Dr. Richards’ responses and the specialist. When they got back to her place, she thanked them for going with her and told them she was going to have to take some time to consider her options.
Options. The moment she’d said the word, Padraig’s anger sparked.
What fucking options?
Die in six months without treatment or die in eight to ten months with needles in your arm and poison creeping through your veins.
“Jesus. There’s that murderous gleam in your eyes again. You should hit the gym. Or more specifically, the heavy bag. You keep this kind of aggression pent up much longer and you’ll explode.”
He nodded slowly. Padraig belonged to a boxing club, but getting into a ring with a living, breathing human being would only ensure he hurt someone. The heavy bag was a good call.
“Yeah. I’ll do that later.”
“So, Mia…” Kelli prompted, still waiting to hear why he was so upset about someone he hadn’t even really known a week earlier.
“We’ve been talking a lot since Friday,” he explained. “She has a bucket list.”
Kelli’s expression softened. “How long does she have?”
“Six months or so.”
“Shit,” Kelli whispered again. Padraig wasn’t surprised by the tears he saw gathering in her eyes. Kelli, for all her tough exterior, was pure marshmallow inside.
“Yeah. I’m going to help her chisel away at everything on that list, make sure she doesn’t die with any regrets.”
“I think that’s awesome, Paddy. To tell you the truth, if it was me, and I only had months to live, there’s no one else I’d rather spend that time with.”
He gave her a disbelieving look. Their friendship—while tight—was based more on playful insults and putdowns. Compliments were few and far between. Primarily because they both got embarrassed whenever the other said anything nice. Sarcasm was their first language, English a distant second.
Before last week, he would have teased her for the kindness, found a way to twist it back to humor. Today, the words sank bone-deep, gave him a glimpse of hope again.
Maybe the hope wasn’t going to be found in a cure. Maybe it was going to come from something else.
“Thanks, Kell. I needed to hear that.”
She flushed and shrugged. “My primary purpose in life is to keep you grounded and humble. And believe me, I find that easier than building you up in weak moments, so you’re gonna have to get your shit together, okay? Mia needs a friend who isn’t walking around like a bear with a thorn in his paw.”
“Yeah. I guess she does.” But it was starting to occur to him that maybe he needed Mia too. She’d opened his eyes to some hard truths about the way he was living his own life. With youth came an erroneous but unwavering belief in immortality. Nothing was certain, yet he’d meandered through his own adult life like he had all the time in the
world.
And he’d spent the last decade hanging out behind this bar, waiting for life to come to him.
What an idiot.
He took a deep breath. “One of the things on her list is to get married.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute. You’re going to propose?”
“Yeah. I think I am. Not right away. God, she’d think I was crazy and turn me down if I asked now. We hardly know each other. But her list…”
“Got you thinking, huh?”
“You and I are both thirty-one, Kell. I keep waiting for this ‘a-ha’ moment where I’m instantly grown up. Then another year passes and I’m still living above the family pub. I look at Mia and I see the chance to do something real. Something that matters. Not just to her, but to me.”
Kelli fell silent, something that didn’t happen often. Usually her mouth was moving before her brain, so the fact that she was thinking about her next comment was all the warning he needed.
This was why he’d avoided her calls. She was too damn good at giving voice to the warning bells in his own head that he often ignored.
“She’s dying, Paddy.”
He winced. Hearing those words kept getting harder.
“I understand that you want to get married. Hell, I do too. But there’s really only one reason to get married that’s acceptable in my mind. And that’s love. Take the next few months and work your way through this bucket list. Get to know her and let her get to know you. All of that is fine. But if you’re serious about your intentions, in addition to that, you have to do something else, something that’s harder.”
“What?”
“You have to open up your heart to her, Paddy. Don’t be afraid to let yourself fall in love with her if that’s where it’s heading. You’ve spent most of your adult life looking for the perfect relationship, something like what your mom and dad have. And I’ve gotta give you props. You’re always giving it the college try. But proposing to this woman because it’s on her bucket list and she’s dying is fucking cheating. She doesn’t deserve that. Of course, I think you already know that. It’s why you’ve been avoiding my calls.”
