Page 83 of The Irish Goodbye

She clapped her hands over her mouth and tears filled her eyes.

“Here,” Niall said, reaching down to pluck a long, tough blade of grass. He wound it into a circle and tied it together, then slipped it onto her ring finger where it hung loosely. His heart thrummed with excitement, his throat tight, his own eyes prickling with tears. “Cordelia Marie James, will you marry me?”

Cordelia stared at the circle of grass. “Can I have a second?” she asked quietly. “Just the night, to think this over. I want to be with you,” she said, leaning down to kiss him. “But this is, I mean … marriage is a big deal, Niall.”

“I am aware,” he said teasingly. “Already having been engaged once before.”

“And we’ve only been together like, a month.”

“Feels longer to me, I guess,” Niall said, embarrassed. He stood and grabbed his shirt, yanking it on. He was probably being stupid. She was right, this was way too fast.

“Wait, stop,” she said, buttoning her dress and standing up so she could press her cheek against his chest. “I’m not saying no. And it does feel like we’ve been together for—well, a lot longer than a month. And I want you to come to New York with me. I do. One hundred and ten percent. I just need a second to process. Is that okay?”

Niall knew he was being foolish. Just because he was ready to jump in with both feet didn’t mean she was. And she was glad of him coming to New York with her—that was huge. He could spend the night coming up with other ways to get there if he had to. He would do anything as long as it meant he could be with Cordelia. This wasn’t like any relationship he’d had before—never had he felt so comfortable, so much himself. Never had he shone love on someone and felt it reflected back to him in equal fashion. When he was with Cordelia, he was home. He loved everything about her, from her passion for her art to her wisecracks to her sweet blushes of embarrassment.

If there was one thing of which he was certain, it was that he didn’t want to live a life without Cordelia James in it. So if she needed a night to think, well, he would gladly give it to her. One night was nothing in the grand scheme of forever.

He kissed the top of her head and held her close. “Of course,” he said. “I understand completely.”

He was distracted during his shift that evening.

“Where’s Cordelia tonight?” Colin asked him during a break. Niall pulled him aside and told him what had happened on the cliffs.

“You proposed?” Colin yelped gleefully.

“Keep your voice down,” Niall said. He didn’t need that news getting around Kilronan. “She hasn’t said yes yet.”

“But she will,” Colin said, a merry gleam in his eye. “How could she not? Feck, should’ve thought of that meself instead of entering that lottery they have.”

Niall’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you entered the US green card lottery,” he said.

Colin shrugged. “It was before your mam asked me to come here,” he said. “Anyway, haven’t heard anything and don’t expect to. Your way is better.”

“You think?” Niall said. “You don’t think it’s too fast?”

Colin clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, mate, but commitment has never been your problem.”

“What’s my problem?”

“Choosing the right bloody girl. And Cordelia is the right bloody girl.”

A bubble of happiness swelled in Niall’s chest. “She is.”

“Come here, you,” Colin said, wrapping him up in a bear hug. “I’m so happy for you, Nie. Truly.”

“Don’t say that until tomorrow,” Niall warned him.

Colin pretended to lock his lips and throw away the key.

The next morning, Niall was trying to read The Irish Times over his coffee but couldn’t stop glancing at his phone. Would Cordelia text him? Would she just come by? It was the first night he’d spent alone since Pátrún. He hadn’t liked it—it made him even more certain of his decision. Of course he would marry Cordelia. He never wanted to spend another night without her.

There was a knock on the door and Niall jumped. Here we go, he thought. He couldn’t wait to see Cordelia’s face again, no matter what choice she made.

“You’re up early,” he said as he opened the door. His heart stuttered to a halt.

The woman standing before him wore a Burberry trench and Prada boots, her sleek chestnut bob exactly the same as he remembered.

“Hello, Niall,” Deirdre said. “Can I come in?”