Page 95 of The Irish Goodbye

“Niall?” Deirdre appeared at his side. “Are you all right?”

“Can you get Gemma back behind the bar?” Niall asked, his voice strained.

“Of course. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Niall said. “Nothing. I—I need to go. I have to go home right now.”

“Okay.” She looked worried and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. Michel can handle the last few orders, yeah?”

“Course.”

“Thanks.”

Niall grabbed his coat and left without saying goodbye. Usually he hung around after closing, grabbed a drink with the staff. But tonight he wanted to be alone.

He walked the chilly streets of London toward his flat. Three months, he should be over it by now. He thought he’d been doing so well. He thought he had managed to put the whole summer behind him. What a joke. He’d only hidden it behind a curtain, and now the veil had been lifted and he couldn’t think about anything else except her. It felt like all he had been doing was thinking about her, even as he strained so hard not to.

December was here and Camden was gussied up for the season. Niall walked past storefronts lined with twinkling lights, Christmas trees sparkling in front windows, until he came to his apartment building. His flat was a modest one bedroom with a spacious kitchen. But right now there was only one place he wanted to be—in a small bed, in a small cottage, on a small island. But that may as well be on the moon. Besides, it wasn’t the cottage that called to him. It was the woman who used to live in it. And she didn’t want him.

She was making a book, though, he thought as he flicked on the lights and poured himself a whiskey. That was good. She must be so happy. It was what she’d wanted, to be sharing her work with the world again. Niall downed his whiskey and poured another. He took out his phone. Maybe he could text her. Say congratulations. That seemed a normal thing to do, didn’t it?

He texted Colin instead.

She’s making a book.

A few moments later, a bubble appeared.

I’m going to need a few more clues here, mate.

Niall swallowed hard. Colin knew how much Niall avoided saying her name. Or typing it. Or thinking it.

Out of her Instagram.

His phone rang.

“Shit,” Colin said when Niall answered. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Niall said and his voice cracked.

“Shit,” Colin said again.

“You were supposed to be my lookout. Check her feed, let me know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, but it’s been ages since she’s posted—oh, I see it now,” Colin said. “It was only yesterday she made the announcement.”

Yesterday. Somehow it never ceased to demolish him, thinking of her living her life out in New York. Imagining her slender fingers typing out the words, the smile on her face as she glowed from the inside out, finally able to celebrate her big news. Did she ever think about him at all? Well, surely she must if she was doing a book on Inishmore. She’d have to look at his pictures at least. Did she feel anything when she did?

Stop it, he reminded himself. She didn’t want you.

“Niall?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Look, I was thinking—”

“Gotta go,” Niall said quickly, then he hung up without bothering to fumble around for an excuse. He sank onto his couch and stared at his phone with trembling hands.