“Speaking of which, there’s something I want to show you.” He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom.
There’s a battered shoebox on the bed, held together with an elastic band. I remember seeing it in the things his parents brought over from Dublin. It had gone into storage, with almost everything else he owned, except for his clothes and the rest of his tools.
“What is it?” I ask as we sit on the bed.
“Memories.” He removes the elastic band and lifts the lid off. “After we left Wexford, I got rid of lots of things. Football trophies and medals were the first to go.” His chin quivers.
I put my hand over his.
“School certificates went next.” He smiles sadly. “You get the idea. I purged nearly everything from my past, hoping it would make me forget him. Spoiler alert. It didn’t work.” He breathes in heavily. “But I did keep a few things. Stuff I couldn’t bear to part with.” He lifts out a strip of shiny paper and turns it over.
I gasp when I see it’s a set of photo booth pictures of the two of us being goofy. Next, he shows me the last birthday card I wrote him. Then there’s a smooth stone I’d found on the beach and given to him. Everything in the box is a picture or object that means something to us. Each one makes me recall moments that were wonderful at the time but bittersweet now.
The final thing is a hand-carved wooden heart. Callan presses it into my hand. “Do you remember this?”
I nod. I can barely see it as tears stream down my face.
“You called it a hug,” he reminds me.
“Aye. I think it might have been a bit more than that.”
Callan laughs. “You think?”
I sniff. “I know it was.”
“Do you remember when you gave it to me?”
I sob. “The day before you told me about Coach.” I hold it to my breast. My chest shudders as I cry openly.
Callan wraps his arms around me. “I lay awake all night, holding your hug. It was when I decided to tell you. I think…I think I knew it meant more than a hug. I think that’s why I was able to tell you what he was doing to me.” He presses his hands to my cheeks and coaxes me to look at him. He’s crying too. “Thank you, Rory. For loving me. For giving me the courage to talk to you. I know things didn’t turn out the way either of us wanted at the time, but we eventually found our way back to each other.”
I put my hand on his nape and pull him to me for a salty kiss. I’m still holding the hug tightly. He puts his hand over mine.
“I love you, Rory.”
“I love you too.” I press the hug into his hand. “This is yours. It always was. It always will be.”
“A hug?”
“My heart.”
His chin trembles as fresh tears cascade down his cheeks.
“I want to give you something else.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “What?”
“This isn’t how I’d planned it, but it feels like the right moment.” I retrieve my wallet and take a small velvet bag out of it. “I’ve carried this around for a while now.” I open the bag and tip a plain gold band onto the palm of my hand.
Callan inhales sharply.
“It was Dad’s wedding ring. He always left it behind when he went out on the boat.” My voice cracks. “Mam gave it to me after he died. She said Dad wanted me to have it so I could give it to the man I love one day.” I cup my free hand under the one in which he’s holding the hug. “I love you, Cal. I always have and always will. Would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”
“Yes.” Callan throws his arms around my neck and peppers me with kisses. “Yes. Oh, God, yes.”
I disentangle myself from him and slide the ring onto his finger.
“It’s a perfect fit,” he whispers as though he can’t believe it.
