Page 23 of The Matchmaker
The hurt in his tone stops me in my tracks. I’ve never heard him sound so wounded before, so defeated. And I suddenly realize how tired he looks.
Adam’s given his life to this pub, to this village. He doesn’t have a family of his own, but he always seemed content with what he had. He might complain about it, he might grumble and side-eye me whenever I announce a quiz night. But he lets anyone who wants to host everything from birthdays to book clubs to bingo. He lets me decorate every holiday, lets us all treat this place like a second home as opposed to a professional establishment. Our population skews older here and not everyone has family nearby. Sometimes, an hour or two at Kelly’s is the only time they might speak with another human in days.
There would be no Ennisbawn without Kelly’s. And there would be no Kelly’s without Adam.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I know.” He runs a hand down his face, glancing at the back door. “Take the day off, okay? I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap at you, and this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
“I don’t want to go home.” I have the sudden irrational feeling that if I do, this place won’t be here when I return. “Does anyone else know?”
He shakes his head. “I hadn’t gotten that far yet.”
Jack Doyle’s booming laugh sounds from outside, drawing our attention.
“I’d better go out,” Adam says eventually. “They want to discuss timelines.”
Timelines. It all sounds so official. So formal. So not what this is.
When I don’t respond, he pours some glasses of water, and joins the others, leaving me alone.
At least this explains why he was so rude to Callum the other night. Adam often took on a paternal role in my life and I thought it was just his usual protectiveness, but no. It was actually because he’d caught his lone employee skulking around in the dark with a man who was about to make her unemployed. I feel a sudden burst of anger at the thought, and as though my swinging emotions called him, Callum himself opens the door, pausing when he sees me.
“Thought I should…” He holds up three empty water glasses, and when I just stare at him, he leaves them on the bar.
“Did you know this was going to happen?” I ask, when he starts to head outside again.
He turns back to face me, his expression guarded. “Not until a few hours ago, no.”
“And I’m sure you’re devastated for us.” I reach for a packet of Christmas napkins and tear it open.
“I’m just doing my job,” he says evenly.
“Yeah, well, your job is costing me mine.” There’s a lump in my throat as soon as I say it, as though the idea only hits me there and then. They’re going to knock down the pub. They’re going to knock it down and then what?
I’ve never considered my life without this pub. My parents met here. They had their wedding party here. I won’t pretend it’s not the reason I gravitated toward this place when I was younger or why I’ve always felt so at home. Kelly’s is more than just four walls and a roof. It’s one of my last connections to my parents, and I cherish it. I always have.
“You okay?”
I shake my head, refocusing on the napkins, but something is tugging at the corner of my mind, pulling and prodding and begging me to listen.
“Katie?”
The way he says my name makes me scowl. He says it like he knows me. Like he’s concerned about me. Though, how concerned can the man be if he’s ripping my home apart brick by brick? If he’s just going to step aside and let his boss bulldoze over the pub and the garden and the well and…
“Look,” Callum starts. “I swear I didn’t know this was going to—”
I drop the napkins, ignoring how they scatter to the ground as I rush to the back door, and burst outside. Adam is sitting at the picnic bench with the lawyer and the marketing team while Jack stands at the edge of the patio, his hand shielding his eyes as he peers at the lake.
Callum comes barreling out a second later, obviously not expecting me to still be there. I know this because he bumps straight into me, grabbing my apron strings before I can go sprawling. The commotion draws the group’s attention and I shake him off, striding forward into the sunlight.
Adam takes one look at my expression and rises. “Katie—”
“You can’t tear down the pub,” I say, and this time Jack can barely hide his irritation.
“And why is that?” he asks.
“Because.” The word flies out of me, confident and purposeful and followed by nothing else.
