Page 46 of Merrily Ever After
I used to love it when it got like this because it meant my brothers were home. It meant a whole house. It meant Christmas, which meant food and presents and staying in my pajamas all day. But now it just feels cramped, a little overwhelming, the mess doing nothing to ease my also messy mind. Not evenLove Actuallyis cheering me up.
I eat the last of the cinnamon cookies that I ruined yesterday (not enough flour according to Mam) and read the last text I got from Daniela. It’s three lines long about one of the wonky wheels on her new suitcase and the half-price mozzarella sticks she got at the supermarket.
I’ve read it eleven times.
I think it’s because I’m losing my mind. My excitement about her coming has increasingly morphed into nerves. And the longer it takes for her to make a decision, the worse they’re getting. It’s just that everyone seems so convinced that she’s going to accept the program here in Ireland.
But what if she doesn’t?
The thought makes my head spin and not in a pleasant way. Because if she doesn’t, then I’d have to follow her. There’s no other option. Even just a few weeks apart makes me miserable. I can’t imagine what months would look like.Years. And then what if she gets offered a job after she finishes her program?
I promised myself I wouldn’t try to influence her. That I would support her no matter what. But I’m starting to think I should plead my case a little. Only what to say beyondplease please pleaseandall our stuff is already here?
I plait and unplait my hair as Keira Knightley gets married in what must be a very cold church since half the guests are wearing coats. I’ve seen this movie a hundred times, but I’m still not bored of it, watching as she walks back down the aisle and gets surprised by the band. Everyone smiles as “All You Need Is Love’ starts to play and it’s weird that it’s a wedding and there’s a guest in a T-shirt and jeans and again, so many coats? But I suppose it’s …
Huh.
I grab the remote, scrolling back a few seconds to watch the scene again. And again. And again. Until it’s so obvious that I feel a little stupid. Until finally, I know what I have to do. It’s not enough to ask her to stay. I have toshowher how much I want her to. That’s what every romance story has, isn’t it? Every movie. Every book. A grand gesture. A special moment. Something leading to the one thing everyone wants.
A happy ending.
I scramble up, grabbing a notebook from under one of the piles of wrapping paper as footsteps sound in the hall. I look up just my dad stops in the doorway, patting his hands dry with a towel. He always does that when he comes in from the farm. Takes off his shoes and washes his hands with the special soap Mam makes for him. Special hand cream, too. With lavender from the garden. He always smells of it. I can’t go past the plant without thinking of him.
“Hannah,” he greets me.
“Sean.”
“Why have you taken over the living room?”
“I’m planning a grand romantic gesture so I can impress Daniela.”
“All right.” His eyes flick to the screen and then back to me. “And you’re doing this after your chores?”
“Yes.”
“Which includes cleaning the bathroom.”
“Yep.”
“And signing your mother’s cards.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then carry on,” he says in that same even tone and leaves me be. A second later, he reappears. “Did you and Daniela break up?”
“No.”
“So why are you—”
“I’m going to prove my love to her so she’ll stay in Ireland.”
“I see.”
“Women like gestures,” I tell him, and he nods thoughtfully.
“They do. Well. Tidy up when you’re done.”
“’Kay.”
