Page 82 of An Irish Summer

“Coll,” I whispered back.

“Are you awake?”

“Of course I’m awake.”

His laughter was breathy, and it raised goose bumps along my arms. “I’m not ready for this night to be over,” he said, his voice low and slow. “I don’t want to be apart from you yet.”

My breath hitched, and I was sure he heard it. “Me neither,” I confessed, paralyzed by the thought of what might happen next. I didn’t move a muscle, fearful of anything that would break the spell.

“C’mere to me,” he whispered, and I unraveled.

I leaned over the side of the bed to get a glimpse of him, and a bar of neon light from the window split his face in two, illuminating one bottle-green eye and almost an entire summer of want.

Without another word, I lowered myself down the ladder and climbed into bed beside him. There was nothing left to say that couldn’t be said with our bodies, even just with the simple act of sleeping side by side.

We folded ourselves into each other under the covers, and I savored the instant warmth of his arm around me as I settled my head on his chest. I was worried my mess of hair might be a nuisance, but the way he gently untangled the ends as he ran his fingers through it told me he didn’t mind.

“Tell me another fairy story,” I whispered after a while. My eyes were heavy, but I still wasn’t ready to end the night. This was what I wanted to remember. “I’m starting to really like them, you know.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.” His soft laugh rumbled in my ear.

“Me neither,” I said. “Though I also never would have thought we’d be here, so I guess we’re full of surprises.”

“Where, in Dublin you mean?” he asked, and I pinched hisribs. He squirmed for a second, only to pull me closer when he recovered. “No, I know what you mean. Here in bed together, like.”

“Exactly.”

“You aren’t wishing you were somewhere else, are ya?”

“No,” I said, wondering if he could hear my smile. “I’m not. For what might be the first time since I’ve gotten to Ireland, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

He pressed his lips to the top of my head, inhaling slowly in a way that told me I wasn’t the only one savoring this.

“This is one I used to tell my sisters as a bedtime story when they were young,” he said, slipping easily into the voice he saved for storytelling. “They were always asleep before the ending, and something tells me you might be the same. But I’ll crack on.”

I closed my eyes so the only sensations I noticed were the sound of his voice and the feel of his warm hand tracing idle patterns on my back as he spoke.

“This one’ll be the story of Connla and the Fairy Maiden,” he said. I tried hard to stay awake as I listened, imagining this man, this golden-haired son of a fighter, and his encounters with the Fairy Maiden.

I drifted in and out, catching something about the dreaded defiance of family but the undeniable allure of paradise. It would be the choice of a lifetime for Connla, between loyalty, logic, and the promise of pleasure. I couldn’t decide what choice I hoped he would make. But, just like Collin’s sisters, I was asleep before the end.

Chapter 17

I was awake an hour before my alarm. Rather than study my notes for the interview, I studied the way the sun cast a sliver of light across Collin’s chest. For a few glorious minutes, it was like the interview didn’t exist. Like the only things on Earth were that bar of sunlight and the freckles under Collin’s eyes. There was a nearly unrecognizable feeling coursing through me, likely the result of the best night’s sleep I’d gotten in months.

In those glorious minutes, I realized what I had to do.

Perhaps I’d even known it last night, only I wasn’t ready to admit it then. Now, however, I didn’t have the luxury of time. I had to make a decision, and it was as clear to me as the blue sky beyond the curtain.

I was canceling the interview.

Sending the email didn’t take more than a minute or two, but I had a feeling it would take a little longer to unpack once I finally said it out loud. Collin must have felt me staring, because the room was otherwise still silent, but he stirred all the same, opening one clear eye and pinning me with his gaze.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, openingthe other eye and propping himself up on his elbows. “What’s wrong?”

“I canceled the interview,” I blurted.

He shot up, so close to me he nearly knocked our heads together. “You what?”

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