Page 91 of The Irish Goodbye

The day was long and arduous. Ferry to bus, bus to train, train to plane. She barely noticed where she was or what was going on around her. She kept taking the grass ring out of her pocket and slipping it onto her finger. It represented a whole life she was meant to have—she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.

When her flight landed at JFK, Cordelia felt like she had traveled from another world, a different century, a new dimension. She waited among the crowds at the baggage claim, flinching every time she heard an Irish accent. She was so utterly wrapped up in her own misery that she didn’t notice the balloons at first—or the sign with her name on it.

Standing by the exit was her family: her mom and Gary, Toby and Nikki, Miles and Grace holding up a homemade sign that read Welcome Home Auntie Cordie!! Liz was there too, running up to her before even the kids had a chance to move, throwing her arms around Cordelia.

“Oh my fucking god I missed you so much,” she said in Cordelia’s ear as Miles flung himself around Cordelia’s legs.

“Auntie Cordie!” he cried. “Did you bring us any presents?”

“Miles,” Nikki admonished, coming up to hug Cordelia after Liz finally released her. “Don’t be rude.”

“Of course I did,” Cordelia said, smiling for the first time in so long she thought her cheeks might crack. “I got Aran sweaters for everybody. But you guys … I didn’t know you’d all be here!”

“We had to give you a proper welcome back, didn’t we?” Louise said, descending on her daughter and kissing her cheek. “How are you?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I don’t know, Mom. Can we talk about it another time?”

“Of course, darling, of course.”

“The kids worked all day on the sign,” Toby said, grinning and squeezing her around the shoulders. “It’s good to have you back, sis.”

Cordelia’s shattered heart thumped out a painful beat. She felt so much love fill her up, but there was sadness there too, because one kind of love was missing. And Cordelia didn’t think she’d ever find it again.

“We thought we’d give you and Liz a lift back to Harlem,” Gary said.

“Back to …” Cordelia looked at Liz. “Are you coming home with me?”

Liz beamed and held up a big tote bag. “I’ve got wine. I’ve got Jiffy Pop. I’ve got ramen—yes, I know, you’re welcome. Thought we could do one of our extremely weird movie night mashups—Notting Hill for me, Lost Girls for you.” She rolled her eyes. “I will put up with your murder shows just this once.”

Cordelia felt the tears rush to her eyes and didn’t realize until this moment how utterly terrified she’d been of being in her apartment alone.

“Auntie Cordie, tell us about your trip,” Grace said, tugging her sleeve. “Did you meet any leprechauns? Miles said you would but I said they’re not real.”

“They are too!” Miles insisted.

“I did not meet any leprechauns,” Cordelia said, taking Grace by the hand and heading to the doors. “But I can tell you about the púca that lives on Inishmore. And he is real. Róisín talks to him all the time.”

“Whoa!” Miles said, then added, “What’s a púca?”

Cordelia laughed and stepped out into the humid New York air. She managed to keep her spirits up as she said goodbye to Toby and the kids, promising to come visit them that week, then she and Liz piled into Gary’s Jeep. Her breath caught in her chest at the first glimpse of the New York City skyline—it never got old, seeing it from a distance, the sun glinting off the skyscrapers, the Empire State Building shooting like an arrow toward the sky.

Liz helped her with her bags and they tumbled into her apartment together. Everything was just the same as she’d left it. Her little window garden of succulents. Framed prints hanging on the walls. Her portable kitchen island made her think of Niall and she turned away from it. Her bed was covered in the same paisley comforter. Photographs of her family on her dresser. She put her father’s camera on her nightstand.

And next to it, she placed the grass ring.

She showered and changed into pajamas. Liz had one pot on the stove making ramen, the Jiffy Pop bag filling up with loud pops.

“Here,” she said, pressing a glass of wine into Cordelia’s hand. She served up the food and Cordelia scarfed the ramen down so fast she almost burned her tongue. Then she drained her glass and poured herself another.

“So,” Liz said. “How are you doing?”

Cordelia felt the ramen threaten to rise back up her throat. “I’m …” She burst into tears, the sobs taking her wholly unprepared. “When is it going to stop hurting?” she whimpered. “I hate this, Liz. I wish I’d never met him. I wish I’d never fallen in love at all.”

“No, babes, don’t say that,” Liz said. “You did what you thought was best—for you and for him. You wouldn’t be happy if you were there in London, would you? I mean, think about it. He’s probably working all the time, and with his psycho ex to boot. That would be a whole can of worms you don’t need to get involved in. What would you do during the day? It wouldn’t be like Inishmore—there’s no Róisín to take you around in her cart. And what about this new book, huh?”

“Technically I could work on that from anywhere,” Cordelia pointed out with a slight hiccup.

“Yeah, but isn’t it better to be here where you can sit down with Kate? I remember for the last one there was lots of back and forth.”