“This isn’t sounding very good.”

“Don’t get too upset. If there’s a will, there’s a way, right?” I pause and then shift into a softer mode. I have to tread lightly here. “But have you thought about his life in Ireland? I mean, what’s he going to do with his business? Is Siobhan going to be willing to run the thing entirely by herself for months and months? Does he want that? And what’s your end game here? Is he planning to immigrate here? Because the only way that’s happening is if he gets married to an American citizen.”

“I’m an American citizen,” Erin says, sounding hopeful.

“Yes, exactly. So are you guys planning on getting married?” Doubt flavors my tone, but I can’t help it. One night of sex and she’s ready to tie the knot? I don’t buy it. Not Erin. She’s way too tough for that.

“Well, no. We didn’t discuss that. He did say the L-word, though.”

“Oh. Well.” I’m surprised by that. I expected him to do more playing around with her heart before he opened up to that degree, based on his past behavior. “I guess that’s a good start.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I can’t tell you what to do this time. It’s just as confusing to me as it is to you. The negative part of me says maybe he’s just messing with you as revenge or maybe he wants to marry you just to get a greencard and he really doesn’t care about you.”

“Ridlee! How could you say that? That man spent thousands of euros to get over here and be with me. He admitted as much, that the whole lawsuit thing was a ruse to be with me again.”

“But why didn’t he just come and be with you? Why make it about the bar at all?” I hate playing devil’s advocate when she so clearly has fallen for him, but someone has to do it.

Her voice comes out very weak. “I didn’t ask him that.”

“Maybe it’s time you guys had a very honest, very open conversation.”

“We did last night. About a lot of things.”

“But not about the things that need to be discussed. Do you have a pen? Because you need to write these things down.”

“Hold on a sec.” I hear shuffling and possibly even a piece of furniture falling over and a glass breaking before she’s back on the line. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Do you have paper?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

“Shit. No. Wait.”

I start another cup of coffee as I wait.

“Okay. I’m back. Pen and paper at the ready.”

“Number one: Why is he here using the bar as an excuse and not just here using you as an excuse? Number two…”

“Slow down!”

“No. Use shorthand. Number two: Who’s going to watch his shop? Number three:…” I pause because I can literally picture Erin right now, frowning as she scribbles, biting her tongue as it hangs out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.

I speak slower this time. “How long is his visa valid for, and does he know he can’t earn any money while he’s here? Does he have savings for living expenses, and if he uses that money, will his business in Ireland stay afloat?”

“This sounds like very personal information,” Erin says, sounding uneasy.

“Of course it’s personal information.” She’s making me kind of cranky. I definitely need more caffeine. My second cup is ready and I take a sip with lots of air, trying not to burn myself.

Ouch. Fail.

My voice is hoarse from the hot liquid. “If he’s busting out the L-word, and you’re thinking about how to keep him here with you, these questions need to be asked and answered. Is he expecting you to support him? Can you do that? Do you want to do that? When it’s time for him to leave, what will you do? Will you stay? Will you go? Will he stay or go? He can’t remain here beyond his visa expiration or he could get blocked from coming in again for ten years.”

“Ten years? Oh my god…”

“Yes. It’s not pretty. You don’t want him becoming an illegal alien.”

“This is a really big deal, isn’t it?”

She sounds so lost and worried, I can’t help but try to fix it. “Yes, but love conquers all, right? And I know you really like him. Maybe you even love him, as much as you can love a person you’ve spent such limited time with. If he’s really serious about you, and I think he must be, he’ll answer your questions. He’ll do the right thing. That’s how we’ll know if he’s the right guy for you.”

“He’s a good man, Rid.”

“Let him prove that to you.”

“I will.” I can imagine her with her chin in the air, her Irish attitude shining out through her green eyes.

“Excellent. I can’t wait to hear what happens. Call me after you talk to him.”

“No matter what time of day or night?”

She’s playing with me now. “Might as well. I’m up at the crack of my ass dawn now, aren’t I?”

“You whinged.”

“Yeah. But I got up and made two cups of coffee and drank them by six thirty a.m., and it’s my day off.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“Damn straight. Now go get your man, would you? All this drama is giving me a rash.”

“Maybe you need a little trip back to the olde sod.”

A flash of memory, Donal riding his giant horse, comes to mind. An ache strikes my heart so hard, so fast, I inhale sharply in surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head, ridding it of the vision. “My coffee is too hot. Call me later.”

“O’kay. Bye!”

“Bye.” I put the phone down and walk to the bathroom as I rub my chest, trying to ease the ache that’s settled in there. I’m hoping a shower will wash the memories away.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

ERIN

I TIPTOE BACK INTO MY bedroom, pausing for a moment at the door to watch Michaél sleep. His breathing is steady and even, just like him. Why does Ridlee have to be so practical all the time? I climb into bed and gaze at him some more. Sometimes I wonder if my best friend has a romantic bone in her body.

Granted, I was like that too. I still am, I think… It’s been a point of pride for us; no guy is going to come along and tear down everything we’ve built, the way they do in those chick flicks where the girls gamely change the entire direction of their lives for the guy in order to live happily ever after.

There’s a reason those films end there. No-one wants to see the money stress that follows, eating away at their love like a cancer, or the gaggle of kids running around robbing the young bride of all her energy and any ambition she may have once had. Nooo… they never show you that bit. Ridlee’s right. It’s time to talk.

“Michaél!” I lean in and yell in his ear.

He jerks in his sleep. “What? What? What’s wrong?” He rubs his eyes all disorientated and snaps his head to look around the room.

“Morning,” I say in a softer tone. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

He rubs his hand across his mouth, still confused. “Erin, what time is it?”

“Eh, around seven I think. Did you sleep well?”

He sits up and yawns. Then he looks over at me. “Come here you,” he says reaching for me.

“Just a sec.” I slide off the bed, leaving him to grab a handful of air while I hurry out to the kitchen. Pouring two coffees I snatch up the paper I left by the phone with Ridlee’s instructions on it.

Back in bed we sip our coffee in silence. I sneak a peek at him; he’s watching me, a bemused look on his face. Carefully, I place my coffee cup on the bedside table and glance at the paper.