Page 85 of The Matchmaker
“You done?” I ask, nodding to his empty glass.
“Yes.”
“Then come on.” I step back, feeling a little giddy as I gesture to the back door. “I want to show you something.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The moon is out tonight. Not a full one, but an almost full one, and strong enough that it casts a white glow over the lake, illuminating the space just enough that we don’t need any other light to see.
“We tried to figure out a way to put the dance floor inside,” I say. “But Adam called it a fire hazard, so we’re putting it by the lake. And we’re going to put flowers all along this wall,” I add, pointing to the bricks. “And a bar over there. More benches. A small stage for the band.”
“And the fireworks?”
“I’ve earmarked a field a five-minute walk away. We’ll get everyone to meet back here and then we’re going to light up the trail with little torches by the west side of the forest. Have them walk around. Set up some blankets. And then boom.” I waggle my fingers in the air. “Beautiful and impressive fireworks exploding across the sky. The only thing is the path and field might get a little muddy if it rains.”
“But it’s not going to rain.”
“No, it will not,” I say firmly, leading him to the well. “Give me your hand.”
He does so immediately, and I bring his fingers to the stones, running them across the uneven surface until they reach the engraving.
“My dad did that,” I say, when he glances at me. “It’s their initials.”
Callum smiles. It’s a warm smile. An almost sweet one. “They met at the festival, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “He was completely in love with my mam. Like dumb, teenage, head-over-heels in love. I swear, in every single picture I have of them, he’s just staring at her like an idiot. Like he can’t believe his luck.” I trace over the letters again before dropping our hands. “Granny said that he came home after their second date and told her he couldn’t get her out of his head. He even tried to write her poetry, which apparently if you knew my dad, was the funniest thing in the world, and… anyway.” I look up at him, not wanting to be sad tonight. “That’s how they met. How did your parents meet?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask.”
“Are you close with them?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “They’re good people. You’d like them. I’ll bring them in for a drink if they’re ever around.”
I make a face, and he smiles. “Too soon to meet the folks, huh?”
“It’s not that,” I say. “I’d love to meet them. I just don’t always make the best first impression. I get nervous and—”
“Say things you don’t mean,” he finishes.
“Worse. It’s like my brain just latches onto one thing and won’t let it go. My last boyfriend took me into the city to meet his mother for dinner and I kept complimenting her on her dentures. Even when she told me she didn’t wear them, I insisted that she did and that my grandmother loved hers and she didn’t like that comparison, let me tell you. And then the boyfriend beforethattook me to his parents’ house for lunch, and I started speaking in an accent? Out of nowhere. His dad opened the door and I put on an accent. And then I just had to go with it for the entire meal, and my ex thought I was doing this weird joke and then he got upset and then I got upset and then— I’m just going to stop talking.” I clamp my lips shut at the strangled look on Callum’s face.
“What kind of accent?”
“I want to say vaguely Scottish,” I say, and he laughs. “I think I’m just not used to new people,” I admit. “Granny used to say it’s why I never wanted to leave here.”
“I doubt she’d want you to even if you did.”
I give him a dry look. “She’s been trying to get me to go for years.”
“Really?”
I nod. “I think she’s given up now. She thought I’d move away to college and never look back. She still sends me the odd job she comes across, even though she knows I never apply for any of them.”
“Jobs where?”
I shrug. “Dublin. London. Timbuktu. Anywhere but here.”
Callum grows thoughtful. “And you’ve never gone for one?”
