Our eyes meet, and it’s as if the room stills, our connection slicing through the din like a beam of sunlight after a storm. He’s still here, and as his gaze holds mine for a fleeting moment, I know that I’m not the only one holding on to hope.
He offers a tentative smile, and my heart stutters, caught like a moth in amber. With a glass of red in hand, I approach him, the warmth radiating between us growing as I close the distance.
‘I thought we’d seen the last of you,’ James says.
I smile softly. ‘As it turns out, you can’t get rid of me that easily.’
He glances over my shoulder. ‘All alone?’
I nod. ‘Yep. Kayla’s staying at my place in London for a bit.’
We lock eyes before I finish the update. But I need to.
‘And Ash and I are no longer together.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he replies.
I quirk an eyebrow at his response. ‘You are?’
He laughs. ‘Okay, honestly and selfishly, not too sorry.’
Our conversation begins with tentative stutters, punctuated by awkward pauses, but soon we find ourselves drawn like magnets into each other’s stories. Our laughter intertwines as we trade anecdotes and dreams, and it becomes clear that we’re more than just two souls happening to cross paths at a crowded bar – we’ve uncovered a breath of fresh air in a world that can feel stifling.
But before long the gnawing doubt in my mind returns. He’s leaving, and the more time we spend together, the more it hurts to consider bidding him farewell.
As I sit here at the bar, the hum of other voices scattering the air around us, I’m torn by the realisation that this is it. My heart races knowing we have just this one short week together, before he sets off to Brussels to pursue his dreams. But I’m determined to make the most of it. James, this charming, kind, clever man has become everything I didn’t know I needed.
As we talk late into the night, our conversation evolves into something more intimate. Sharing pieces of ourselves that feel too vulnerable to utter out loud in any other setting. We fall deeper into each other until our connection feels like an extension of ourselves – like a missing puzzle piece finally slotted in place. And even though he’s leaving, my heart feels fuller than it ever did before and I realise that – if only for one night – love has come and changed everything.
I glance at him, his eyes sparkling as we share in this fleeting moment, and I can’t help but think of my parents’ story. They taught me that love is a precious gift, and life never hands us aguarantee. Tonight, it’s up to me to seize this moment and make the most of the hours we have.
But as I sit here, the clock ticking away on our limited time, my heartache sneaks in. Losing him is unimaginable. As if sensing my struggle, he reaches for my hand and tugs me gently from my stool, his touch alleviating my fears, however fleetingly. I sway, drawn towards him with an invisible thread that binds us, our bodies already unwilling to part.
He shuffles towards me, our chests touching. His arms loop around my waist, his eyes still locked on mine. James smiles tenderly before coming closer, hovering his lips above mine as though he’s unsure whether to take the next step.
His warm embrace grounds me again, and all I want is to savour this love, even if it only lasts until tomorrow morning. So, when he finally kisses me, I can’t help but give in. Its taste is bittersweet; our souls meshing in a whirlwind of emotion and uncertainty. We both know that things will change beyond repair. But in this moment, with our fingertips laced together beneath the bar lights, I forget about tomorrow’s pain and dive into the bliss of his embrace. As my mum once said, ‘Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.’
Time stops as our lips move in perfect harmony and an unknown sensation stirs inside me.
CHAPTER 42
THE STREET
By midnight, The Tap House is alive with the sound of traditional Irish music. It’s the final night of the market fair and the whole village seems to be here. The atmosphere is electric and everyone is having a great time dancing, laughing and drinking. A smiling, bearded man in a flat cap has taken to the stage, playing his fiddle passionately, and the crowd roar with excitement and clap along. The woman next to me, who I’ve just met, starts to sway from side to side, and I can’t help but join in. It’s infectious.
I dance withJames until my body is soaked in sweat from a night of good music and better Guinness. When two o’clock hits, the musicians leave the stage and the bell tolls for last call. I bid my friends farewell, feeling elated and fulfilled, knowing tonight was a good one.
I look at my watch. ‘It’s late; I’ll be heading home now,’ I say to James.
‘To The Lake House? Let me walk you there,’ he replies.
‘It’s fine! I was going to get a taxi. I can manage.’
He shakes his head. ‘A taxi will be hard to come by. We can take a shortcut through the fields; it’ll take no time at all.’
‘Are you sure? I know you’re packing and getting ready for your big move,’ I insist.
He grins in response. ‘Don’t worry about me. It’s important you get home safe, especially at this hour. Got to be careful on the mean streets of Innisfree,’ he jokes.
