He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

by Iris Morland

  Leslie’s lip curled, but then she shrugged. “It’s your life. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. You understand, right?” She returned to her computer, and I knew I was officially dismissed.

  When I arrived back at Dani and Jacob’s later that afternoon, the condo was deserted. Not wanting to be alone—Dani’s cat Kevin wasn’t exactly the greatest company—I walked to Buds and Blossoms, where I found Dani with a customer.

  I hadn’t been to our family’s shop in a few months. Not since things with David had exploded in my face. Back then, both Dani and I were having our share of love problems. Now I was the one with a husband who’d disappeared, while Dani was happily engaged to Jacob.

  “Oh, Mari, I’m glad you’re here,” said Dani after the customer left.

  “Do you need me to trim some stems in the back?”

  “Well, yeah, but also—” Dani pulled out a card that she’d stowed under the counter. “This was addressed to the store, but it’s for you.”

  “For me?” The card had no return address. Frowning, I opened it, wondering if it was just junk mail that had been forwarded to the wrong address. Until I read what was inside.

  Liam Gallagher

  Photography show

  February 21

  The Eye Art Gallery

  Belltown, Seattle

  And to confirm that this was from Liam himself, a scrawled note in the corner, please come, a ghrá geal. I miss you.

  “What is it?” Dani took the card from my limp fingers. “Oh. Wow. Oh my God.”

  I needed to lie down. I needed smelling salts. Or maybe a stiff drink.

  So I decided on the next best thing: sitting on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest.

  Dani crouched down beside me, saying my name. I felt like I was floating. I felt like—I was totally confused.

  “He could’ve just texted me,” I croaked.

  Dani pursed her lips. “Men are so fucking dramatic. Why women are the ones called drama llamas, I don’t know. Yesterday, Jacob got upset when I bought the wrong kind of coffee for the French press. He acted like it was an affront to humanity.”

  I took in a deep breath. And then another. My scalp prickled. It was like my body had been numb this entire time but was finally returning to life.

  “He misses me,” I whispered, staring at those six words in his distinctive handwriting.

  “What does this mean?” Dani pointed to the Gaelic words. “I hope it’s a compliment.”

  It must be that nickname he’d said meant “wife.” But for whatever reason, I didn’t believe it. He hadn’t looked me in the eye when he’d said it.

  Before that night, I’d tried Googling it multiple times, but I’d had no idea how to spell it. Google kept thinking I’d meant to search for agar gel, like I was in desperate need of a vegan option for gelatin in these trying times.

  I typed the words into my phone. When the result pulled up, I couldn’t breathe.

  My bright one. When had he started calling me that? It felt like ages ago.

  I showed Dani the result. She let out a breath and then sat down beside me.

  “So, what was the issue?” she said. “That you didn’t love him? Or you didn’t believe that he loved you?”

  “Both. Neither. I don’t know.” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “He’s everything I thought I didn’t want in a man. He’s not…safe.”

  “Love isn’t safe, but that’s what makes it fun.”

  I leaned my head on my sister’s shoulder, and she patted my cheek.

  “So I guess I should go to this photography show,” I said.

  “If you don’t, I’ll kill you for being the stupidest thing on this planet. And that’s saying something because Kevin tried to eat a plastic bag today. So you’d be even dumber than my cat.”

  I snorted. “Glad I can always count on you for support.”

  The night of Liam’s show, I was so nervous that I couldn’t eat all day. My hands shook as I put on my makeup. My hair had to be put up in a bun because I couldn’t manage to hold the curling iron without burning my ears. By the time I arrived at the gallery, I was a frazzled, sweaty mess, despite the fact that it was all of forty degrees outside and bound to rain tonight.

  I was determined to apologize, at the very least. Most of all, to tell Liam I loved him. Even if he no longer loved me, at least I would be honest finally.

  Entering the gallery, I looked for Liam, only to see lots of people who were not Liam. The crowd was large enough that I bumped people’s shoulders as I wound my way through the gallery. I snagged a glass of white wine to brace myself.

  It was only when I was near the back of the gallery, the lights dimmer here, that I actually looked at the photos. The one in front of me was at least six by six feet, so huge that it took up the entire wall on which it hung.

  But what made my heart stop in my chest wasn’t the photo’s size: it was the subject.

  It was me.

  It was one of the photos Liam had taken that last night we’d had together. I didn’t have makeup on; my hair was messy. Memories flooded me: Liam unbuttoning my wedding gown. Liam kissing me. Liam telling me he wanted to make this marriage real.

  And staring at this photo, I saw in that woman’s eyes that she adored the man taking her photo. Anyone could see it. And it was so beautiful yet so painful at the same time that I struggled to breathe.

  “You came,” said a voice that had haunted my dreams for weeks now.

  I couldn’t move, though. I was pretty certain I’d collapse onto the floor into a heap.

  “You sent me an invitation,” I said quietly as Liam joined me.

  “Didn’t mean you’d really come.”

  I swallowed the last bit of my wine, feeling instantly woozy. Or maybe it was from seeing Liam for the first time in weeks. He looked the same, of course. Just as devastatingly handsome as I’d remembered him. But he seemed a little thinner, his eyes not as bright as I’d remembered. He looked…wary.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I’m so, so, sorry.” I tried to take Liam’s arm, but I missed. Whoa, what was up with that?

  “How much wine have you had?” he grumbled, taking my glass and handing it to a server.

  “Only that one glass.”

  “Seems you getting drunk and making poor decisions is going to become a theme with us.”

  “Hey! I am not drunk!” My words were belied by me grabbing onto Liam’s shirt when the gallery started spinning.

  To my immense embarrassment, Liam picked me up and carried me into a backroom. People whispered and pointed at us, and I buried my face in his shoulder.

  “That was so dramatic,” I mumbled. He sat me down on a ratty, blue chair that had definitely seen better days. “You couldn’t have just taken my arm?”

  “You were going to faint.”

  “I was not.”

  His lips curled into a smile as he crouched in front of me. “Still love to argue as much as ever.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Only with you. I’m very nice to other people.”

  “That’s because you don’t let them see the real you.”

  I cupped his cheek, reveling in the scratchy feeling of his beard against my palm.

  “I looked up what a ghrá geal means. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

  “Did you now? And what did you think?”

  “That I love you so much the thought of never seeing you again broke my heart.”

  His eyes widened. “Mari.”

  “If you don’t feel the same—I won’t blame you.” I fiddled with my purse. “You were right. I was afraid, and I made a huge mistake.”

  “Mari, look at me.”

  I did. Because I had to be brave now.

  “I love you. I love you so much I’m dying with it. I’m sorry for what I said. It was uncalled for.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I mean, maybe some of it. But most of it was just brutally honest.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me you love me again.�
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  I smiled. “I love you.”

  He growled and hauled me into his lap, kissing me so hard that I was afraid I really would faint. He tasted like whiskey. He tasted like my husband.

  I smiled. “How do you say it in Gaelic? Let’s try that one on for size.”

  “Mo ghrá thu.”

  I repeated the words, mangling them terribly. He laughed.

  “I love you,” he said in English. “So much. I’m sorry for what I said to you that day at the park. I was an arse. A gobshite. A pox.”

  “You Irish have the best insults.”

  He kissed me again, his tongue sliding into my mouth. I kissed him back just as fiercely. If there weren’t a hundred people right outside this unlocked door, I’d rip his clothes off right here.

  After a kiss that seemed to last forever, he said, “I want to make this marriage a real one. I want to marry you—for real this time. The ceremony, the dress, the ridiculous amount of money spent on stupid shite. Like what are those things called? Boutonnières?”

  I giggled. “We’ll have all the boutonnières. Every single person will wear one. Even my sister’s cat. It helps that my family kind of specializes in the whole flower thing, so it won’t cost us a dime.”

  Liam’s expression turned serious at the mention of money. “I told Niamh everything.”

  “And?”

  “And she thinks I’m an idiot.”

  “We’re both idiots.”

  Liam sighed, kissing the side of my neck. “I’m waiting for the ax to fall. The old man hasn’t contacted me—yet.”

  “But if we’re staying married, does it matter? And besides, if your grandfather decides to be a jerk, we’ll figure out a way to get your sister to the college she wants to go to.”

  Liam looked shy all of a sudden, which wasn’t something I’d ever seen him be. “I don’t want you to think I want to make this marriage real only for my sister. I want you in my life. I want you to be my wife: not just for six months, but for always.”

  I leaned my forehead against his. “Good, because I want the same thing. And even if you didn’t, I’d haunt you until you changed your mind.”

  “My vicious leanan sídhe,” he said affectionately. Then he smiled, a proud smile that made my heart sing. “Niamh got into Harvard. She just found out.”

  I hugged him hard, and then we fell onto the floor in a heap of laughter and kisses. Suddenly that unlocked door didn’t matter. Not when Liam was pushing my dress up my thighs and pulling my tights down at the same time—

  Right then, the door opened. A woman gasped, while another woman said, “Oh my! I didn’t know there was going to be a show like this, too.”

  “Karen, don’t be ridiculous,” the gasping woman said. “This isn’t a peep show.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  I realized my underwear was showing. Liam swore and got up to hustle the women out the door.

  “A ghrá gel, what are you laughing for?” he said, helping me to stand up.

  The giggles kept coming. “Did you see their faces? I think we scarred them for life.”

  “Let them bitch and moan. Because I’ve locked the door and am going to finally enjoy my wife again.”

  And Liam being Liam, he always kept his promises.

  Epilogue

  Liam

  I married my wife a year and a half after I married her the first time.

  I’d wanted to do it much sooner, until I’d realized that Mari had planned to use the wedding things she’d bought for her wedding with David for our wedding.

  “I already have almost everything we need,” she’d said, rather too calmly for my liking. “I’d rather use all of it if I could.”

  To that, I’d countered that there was no way in hell that I was allowing anything that had to do with her weasel of an ex at our wedding. Mari had thought I was being ridiculous, so I’d seduced her until she’d finally agreed with me.

  So, the idea for a summer wedding that first year went out the window. A year would put us in the wintertime, which Mari refused to plan a wedding for.

  So, it had taken eighteen bloody months to plan, primarily because Mari had got the idea to have the wedding in Ireland. Which sounded great, until you considered how much of a pain it was to work with wedding people on the other side of the world. Mari had almost lost her mind trying to get her wedding planner to respond to her emails as quickly as she expected her to.

  Americans have no bloody patience, I tell you. Then again, I was an Irishman impatient to marry my wife a second time. I’d like for the record to show that she’d been the one taking her time, not me.

  Mari had also been occupied starting her business as a makeup artist, including creating YouTube videos for her brand-new channel. She’d already been approached by a major brand and was gaining followers and clients faster than she’d ever expected. I wasn’t surprised, though: my wife was fucking amazing. And it also meant that I had a talented makeup artist to recommend to my photography clients. Win-win situation.

  “You ready?” said Sam as I put on my tuxedo coat. “I was so nervous at my wedding I almost threw up on my shoes.”

  “I remember. I’m already married to her, you know. So there’s no need to be nervous.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Weddings are fucking terrifying. Even when you’re not the one saying ‘I do.’”

  I looked at myself in the mirror, wearing a tuxedo for my own wedding. I had believed for so long that I’d never marry that it was almost surreal to think I was doing it. Twice over. Anticipation jangled inside me.

  I wanted to make Mari mine in front of our friends and families. I’d married her once for myself already. This time, I’d marry her to show everyone else I was completely, absolutely in love with her.

  The ceremony was outside, the green hills of Ireland making a stunning backdrop. But I didn’t care if a fucking leprechaun ran down the aisle: I wanted to see Mari in that white wedding dress, coming toward me and pledging herself to me.

  The sounds of the cellist and violinist signaled the start of the ceremony. Our wedding party—Mari’s two sisters, Jacob, Niamh, Sam, and my cousin Lochlann Gallagher, a mechanical engineering professor at University of Ireland, Dublin, and who I’d reconnected with in the last year—walked down the grassy aisle with wide smiles on their faces.

  And missing from the wedding? Old man Gallagher. It wasn’t that we wouldn’t have invited him. No, he’d had a heart attack and kicked the bucket two weeks after Mari and I got back together.

  Because my life was really that fucking ironic. Sometimes I was sure he’d croaked knowing about me and Mari, but he’d enjoyed the thought of my suffering right before he’d taken his last breath. But he hadn’t disinherited Niamh after all.

  I couldn’t regret any of what had happened in the last eighteen months. Because it had brought me the extraordinary woman now walking toward me with love shining from her eyes.

  What a lucky bastard I was.

  When Mari reached me, her arm through her father’s, I nodded at Mr. Wright. He nodded back. He’d come around recently to my marriage with his oldest daughter. It had helped that I’d introduced him—through Lochlann—to one of the most exclusive growers of orchids in Ireland.

  “Take care of her,” said Mr. Wright as he wiped away a stray tear. He kissed Mari’s cheek. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I took my wife’s hand, looking at her from head to toe. She’d bought a new wedding dress for our wedding, and although she’d looked beautiful in the one I’d pretty much torn off of her eighteen months ago, she looked even more beautiful in this new one.

  She also wore the engagement ring I’d bought her the day after we’d made up. Rose gold, morganite, with the words A ghrá geal engraved on it.

  Mari’s dress this time was simple, white, silky. Something probably way more complicated to it than I’d ever understand, but I was already imagining taking it off my wife tonight.r />
  “You look amazing,” I mouthed as the officiant began speaking.

  Mari dimpled. “So do you.”

  Yeah, that dress didn’t stand a chance tonight. I just hoped she didn’t spend too much on it because it was going to end up in shreds.

  When we were finally pronounced husband and wife, I yanked my wife into my arms, dipped her over my arm, and kissed her until I heard my sister say, “Get a room, you two.”

  Now, hours later, I was slow-dancing with my wife at our reception. I had one more song in me before I was taking her away to our hotel and having her all to myself.

  Mari, though, seemed distracted. She kept looking over my shoulder.

  “What is it?” I said.

  She looked sheepish. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me, wife.”

  “It’s Kate. She’s disappeared.”

  “Fairies probably took her away. Can’t say I’m upset about it. She’s a pain.”

  Mari pinched me, which just made me kiss her until she was breathless.

  “No, really,” she said, “I’m worried. She tends to not think before she acts.”

  “Your sister is an adult. She can manage on her own.”

  “That’s what worries me,” muttered Mari.

  Now twenty-one, Kate was almost a bigger pain in the arse than my own sister. At least Niamh was too busy with attending Harvard to get into trouble—as far as I knew. Kate, though, seemed destined for trouble no matter what. It didn’t help that she was as smart as my own sister. If those two ever teamed up, they’d take over the world, I thought with a shudder.

  “Look, there she is,” I said. Kate had just sat down at a nearby table, looking rather rumpled. “She must’ve gone off with one of the guests.”

  “Kate doesn’t date. She thinks men are idiots.” Mari lifted her eyebrows. “Her words, not mine.”

  “What, is she gay?”

  “Noooooo. At least I don’t think so. She’s just…particular.”

  To my surprise, my cousin Lochlann soon sat down at a table across from Kate, looking similarly rumpled. Lochlann was in his thirties, and according to women, ridiculously handsome. In my mind, he was the intense professor who’d been obsessed with building things when we were kids.