by Mari Carr
She didn’t reply until he pulled up in front of their apartment. “I’ll be fine.”
Mia got out of the car and walked inside without a wave or word of goodbye. It took everything Padraig had not to park the car, run up the stairs after her and hold her until the dark feelings went away.
Instead, he drove to the gym, pulled on a pair of boxing gloves and beat his anger out on the heavy bag until his arms and shoulders burned with pain and he couldn’t lift them anymore.
May 17
Padraig came home from the bar. It was well after midnight, but he wasn’t surprised to find Mia sitting in the dark on the couch.
She had taken up residence there right after the visit to see Dr. Richards, and she’d remained there for three days. No amount of cajoling from him, his mom, Kelli, Colm or Pop Pop could budge her.
Mia had gone to a very dark place in her head, and Padraig was starting to fear she’d never come back out again.
“You’re up late,” he said, trying to adopt a casual tone, trying to drag them back to something tolerable. Seeing her like this, quiet, numb, defeated, killed him. Every morning, he woke up and died a little more inside.
He wanted to rage, to scream at her, tell her to snap the fuck out of it, but he couldn’t. Jesus. He wouldn’t.
She was dying.
Padraig had put himself in her shoes countless times over the past two months, and every single time he found himself exactly where she was right now.
Broken. Hopeless. Alone.
He could stay with her 24/7, surround her constantly with his family and friends, and Mia was still going to be alone.
His physical presence, his love, his desire to hold on to her wouldn’t change that. Mia was on a journey that he simply couldn’t take with her. He might drive her to the train station, but that was it. He’d go back home, and she’d go…
Mia seemed to have run out of tears, but Padraig hadn’t. He felt his eyes filling up. He used to pride himself on his strength, his ability to control pain.
Turned out he just hadn’t felt true pain. Until now.
“Want to go to bed?” he asked, unable to hide the huskiness in his voice that betrayed his sadness.
She shook her head but didn’t reply. The past few nights, Padraig had left her alone, let her sleep on the couch, thinking he was respecting her privacy.
He couldn’t walk away from her again.
Dropping down to the couch next to her, he blew out a long breath. “How about a bedtime story?”
She looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time in days, and he latched onto that response as hope.
She didn’t give him a yes or no, but he forged on anyway.
“My Pop Pop always used to tell me this one about St. Patrick. I was named after my grandfather, but he was named after the saint.”
Padraig hadn’t thought about the story in years.
“Once upon a time, there was a man named Patrick, and he lived in this magical place called Ireland.”
The corners of Mia’s lips tilted upwards at his dramatic fairy-tale voice. “I’m pretty sure Ireland is just a country. No magic.”
Padraig pretended to be horrified. “I beg to differ. Ireland is the most magical place in the world—full of fairies and unicorns and leprechauns.”
“I stand corrected. Sounds like a wonderful place. Maybe I should move there. I could use a little magic.”
Padraig let her comment go without remarking on it. He had her attention for the first time in days. He wasn’t going to let her go back into her depression without a fight.
“Well now, I wouldn’t start packing my bags yet. There’s still the issue of the snakes.”
Mia shuddered. “Snakes?”
Padraig nodded. “Ireland was full of them. All the nasty varieties too. Not your peaceful little black snakes.”
“No snake is peaceful.”
“The king agreed with you. So much so that he declared whoever could get rid of the snakes could marry his daughter.”
“The daughter was forced to marry the best exterminator? Lovely story.”
Padraig snorted at her crinkled nose. “It wasn’t as bad as that. After all, Patrick was a strapping, good-looking guy and he had the hots for Princess Maureen. She looked a lot like you. Red hair, bright green eyes.”
“Brain tumor?”
Padraig narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, she sighed and muttered a soft, “I’m sorry. Tell me more.”
“Patrick was getting pretty frustrated because, just like all the other guys in Ireland, he fancied Maureen, but he didn’t know how to get rid of the snakes. But his luck changed one day when he caught a leprechaun named Seamus.”
“He caught it?”
“Oh yeah. Leprechauns are wicked fast and hard to catch. If you manage to grab one, they have to take you to their gold.”
“So Patrick got Seamus’s gold?”
“Nope. He got something better. He got a magic flute.”
Mia frowned. “I’m failing to see how that’s better.”
Padraig chuckled. “Patience, woman. Whenever Patrick started playing that magic flute, snakes would come out to listen.”
“Oh yeah. That is definitely not better than gold.”
Padraig ruffled her hair. “You’re a hard person to impress. You’re also failing to see. Patrick would play his flute and walk around town. All the snakes followed him, so he led them straight to the sea. Then he got on a boat, continued playing, and the snakes slithered right into the sea and drowned.”
“No more snakes.” Mia’s eyes lit up. “And he got to marry the princess.”
“Yep. He and Maureen lived happily ever after.”
“Happily ever after,” she repeated softly.
“I take my name very seriously, Mia.”
She tilted her head, confused. “Okay.”
He scooted closer to her, running his hand through her hair. “There are a lot of snakes squirming around inside you, scaring you, making you sad.”
She sniffed, tears wetting her lashes. “I’m sorry I’ve been so—”
Mia didn’t finish. He wouldn’t let her. Instead, he kissed her softly.
“I’m going to drive those snakes out. I’m going to do everything in my power to make you happy. I swear it.”
“You do make me happy, Paddy. I just…it’s hard sometimes to keep feeling positive, optimistic.” She wiped her eyes, then said, “You know, my name has a meaning too. It means ‘wished for’ or ‘mine’. My grandma picked it out. Said I was her greatest wish granted.”
“It is the perfect name. Mia. Mine.”
Padraig kissed her again, making certain she didn’t doubt that claim. She was his.
“Even if you drive the snakes away, Paddy, nothing will change.”
“Everything has changed. For both of us. We’re going to fill whatever time we have left with love and laughter and happiness. You still have the power to direct your course. To get the happily ever after you want. Don’t lose sight of it. Reach for it. Grab it and hold on with both hands.”
“Paddy,” she whispered. “Can we go to bed?”
He helped her rise from the couch, leading the way as they walked to the bedroom. They moved slowly as they undressed each other, kissing and touching and caressing.
Then he laid her down on the bed, sliding into her slowly as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.
Padraig set a gentle pace, wanting her to feel how much he wanted her, needed her. Loved her.
They came together, crying out their release in unison. Then Padraig pulled her close as she cuddled next to him.
Several minutes later, he felt her shaking.
He lifted his head, concerned she was crying. Instead, he found her trying to hold in a laugh.
“Something funny?” he asked with a grin, pleased to see she’d turned a corner, found her way out of the darkness.
Mia’s hand crept down his stomach until she could take his s
oft penis in her hand. “That’s quite a magic flute you’ve got,” she teased.
Padraig laughed as he tickled her. “Give me a few minutes to catch my breath and I’ll play you another tune.”
12
June 28
Padraig grasped Mia’s hand, leaving their luggage in the car.
She pulled back. “What about the bags?”
“Later,” he said. “Aren’t you excited? Why wait?”
She laughed and followed him through the hotel lobby to the door that led to the outdoor pool.
“This resort is incredible.” Mia’s eyes flew around, trying to take it all in. She’d never stayed in such a nice hotel. In addition to the outdoor pool, there was an indoor one, a tiki bar, outside seating at the restaurant and—she sucked in an excited breath—beyond those dunes, the ocean.
She and Padraig had fallen into a routine in the past month, waking up in each other’s arms, showering, dressing, eating breakfast together before she went to work. On nights when he worked, she sat at the end of the bar and had her dinner, chatting with him as he poured drinks.
Last night, he’d surprised her by taking the night off to pack for this impromptu trip to Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. Apparently, he’d found Shell Island Resort online and noticed they had a special weekend rate going for that very weekend. The next thing she knew, she was packed for the beach with just a moment’s notice.
She loved Padraig’s impulsiveness, his sense of adventure. For most of her life, she’d simply been stuck in a rut, a creature of habit, a slave to routine.
With Padraig, every day was different, fun, full of surprises. Sometimes he would stop by her work to surprise her with lunch. Twice, she’d woken up to find a rose on her pillow. More than a few times, he’d turned on music, grabbed her hand and danced her around the kitchen, slow or fast or silly, depending on his mood.
And now, another item was about to fall off her list of regrets. Padraig had already helped her tick off so many of them.
They’d gotten up at the crack of dawn, loaded his car with borrowed beach chairs, pool towels, and sunscreen. Padraig had found an oldies station on the radio, and they’d belted out “Freeze Frame”, “Come Sail Away” and “Melt with You” at the top of their lungs. She’d grumbled a bit about the long drive, but with Padraig, she’d discovered the journey was just as much fun as the destination. So, eight hours later—after stops for gas, food, car treats, and a random stop at Bass Pro Shops—they’d arrived at the ocean.
She followed Padraig up the wooden steps, then stopped, gasping as she got her first glimpse of the ocean.
“Oh my God!”
Padraig grinned. “Come on.” At the foot of the stairs, he kicked off his flip-flops and encouraged her to do the same. They left them there and walked barefoot in the hot sand toward the water’s edge.
Mia struggled to take it all in, the roaring sound, the salty smell, the endless expanse of gray-blue water. As they got closer to the Atlantic Ocean, Mia started to run, laughing, Padraig right beside her.
She pulled up just short of the white foam.
“Don’t stop now. This is the best part.” Padraig placed his hand on her waist, holding her close as they dipped their toes in. It was surprisingly cold.
Taking a few more steps, Mia felt the waves crashing over her legs, soaking the bottom of her shorts.
“Guess we should have put on our bathing suits first,” Padraig said, when one strong wave splashed right up their backs as they turned away, trying to minimize the damage.
Mia laughed and shook her head. “There was no time.”
Twisting back to the watery horizon, she threw her arms out to the sky, feeling free and at peace. “I had no idea it would be so massive. I mean, until you see it in person, you can’t really understand the actual enormity of it. It’s endless.”
“Yeah. I always feel overwhelmed by it. And I’ve been to the beach a ton of times. It always puts life into perspective for me.”
Mia considered that and nodded, feeling her own worldview knocked sideways a bit. “It makes me feel very, very small. Not in a bad way. Compared to the ocean, my life is the blink of an eye. One second in eternity.”
“That’s it exactly. The ocean has a way of humbling a person. And at the same time, I feel blessed to be here. To have this single second in eternity to make my mark.”
Mia smiled. “You have a very romantic soul, Paddy.”
Her words seemed to change something for him. His face was serious as he pulled her out of the water. They stopped just short of where the white foam ended.
“I was going to do this later, but now feels like the perfect time.”
She tilted her head. “To do wha—?”
She stopped mid-word when Padraig dropped down to one knee in the sand.
“Paddy,” she whispered, unable to hear her own voice over the thunder of the sea and the waves crashing inside her head.
“Mia Curtis. I know we haven’t known each other a long time, but if I’ve learned anything these past few months, it’s that it isn’t the minutes that count. It’s the way we fill that time. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you, I can’t even remember a moment when you weren’t with me. I want to be with you, Mia, as your best friend, your lover and your husband. I want to spend every day from now until…whenever…with you.”
He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a small box.
Mia wiped away the tear that got away from her, shaking her head slowly. “Please, Paddy. You can’t—”
“Marry me, Mia.”
“You know—” she started.
Once again, he interrupted her. “If there was no tumor, what would your answer be?”
“There is a tumor.”
“Answer the question.”
“I would marry you.”
He smiled, but her heart cracked at the sight of it. She loved him just as deeply. Deeply enough that she would do whatever it took to protect him.
“Paddy. I said I would marry you. Not that I will.”
He opened the box, and she gasped at the beautiful ring inside. Every dream she’d ever harbored as a young girl of finding her Prince Charming, the man who would love her no matter what, was coming true.
“It’s beautiful.”
He pulled the ring from the box. “It’s yours.”
Her hand was curled in a fist as she tried to find the strength to do the right thing. The problem was, marrying Padraig felt like the rightest thing in the world.
Mia bit her lower lip, struggling, wrestling with herself.
Padraig didn’t push the issue. The gorgeous, patient man just waited, gave her time to come to the answer on her own.
“In October.”
“What?”
“I’ll marry you on my birthday. October second.”
Padraig sighed, clearly not happy about the idea of waiting. But this thing between them was still too new. And she wanted to make sure Padraig understood completely what he was proposing.
“Mia,” he whispered. “Please.”
“It’s three months, Padraig. Just three…” She couldn’t finish the last. Jesus. Three months was basically all the time she had left if Dr. Richards was right.
He closed his eyes and she half-feared, half-hoped he’d take the ring back. Saying no would be the kindest thing. Getting married had been an item on her bucket list, one she had no expectation of fulfilling. However, over the past few months, marrying Padraig had moved into the number one position on the list. There was nothing she wanted more.
Padraig’s eyelids lifted slowly, and she knew he wasn’t taking the ring back. “Will you marry me on October second?”
Slowly, she unclenched her fist, holding her hand out to him.
Padraig’s smile burst through, brighter than the sun. “Say yes, Tilly Mint. I need to hear it.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice breaking on her happy tears.
The wedding vows included for better or worse.
God knew she and Padraig had already walked the razor’s edge between those two things a few too many times.
He slid the ring on her finger then stood up to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing when he lifted her and spun her around.
They kissed another minute more before a man stepped closer.
“Not going to lie, I was holding my breath there, afraid she was going to turn ye down, mate.”
The stranger had an Irish brogue. Padraig grinned at the fella’s joke, but it was obvious he didn’t know the man, either.
“Oh, sorry. Name’s Seamus. I’m just here on vacation. Was walking by when ye dropped down to one knee. Looked around and realized you two were alone, so…” He smiled at them sheepishly. “I recorded it.”
He held out his phone and, sure enough, there was Padraig, holding out the ring.
“Thought you might like to have the moment documented. Had a few hairy moments there, thinking I might actually be recording your heartbreak. Glad it turned out well.”
Mia giggled, delighted by the man’s friendly, funny banter. The fact that his name was Seamus only made it all so much better. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Seamus about Padraig’s wand and the leprechaun with the magic flute.
“Gotta admit, you’ve got style, mate. Proposed to my gal one night in a pub, both of us pissed. She still gives me bloody hell for my lack of romance. So if ye want to give me your email address, I can send ye the video. Then I’m going to have to delete the damn thing. If my wife sees it, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“How long have you been married?” Padraig asked.
“Three years. Love the gal. She’s American. Met when she was studying abroad. If ye can’t tell from this brogue, I’m originally from Kerry. Ireland.”
“My grandfather is Irish,” Padraig said.
Seamus’s eyes widened. “Is that right? Well, small world.”
Padraig gave Seamus his email and the video switched hands.
“Sorry to interrupt your moment. Blame my lack of romance. Hope the two of you have a very happy life together.” Seamus nodded in farewell and continued down the beach.
