“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Then you’ll need to make an appointment through my secretary.”
“They offered me a position,” he tells me, taking a step inside. I back away instinctively, and he closes the door.
“What position?”
“Coach for the Dublin junior team.”
“Oh. I see.”
“They’ve even found Skylar a place in a private Catholic school there. Serious stuff.”
“That’s a great opportunity for both of you.”
“Yeah.”
I head into the kitchen, where a newly-poured glass of wine is waiting for me; I need something to swallow this news with. Niall follows me, placing the bag of food on the counter, before leaning against it himself.
“So you came to say goodbye.”
He shakes his head. “I came here to ask you for a reason to stay.”
The glass almost slips out of my hand. “The tournament is almost over, and I have no other jobs to offer you.”
“What if the reason wasn’t work? What if the reason was you?”
I attempt to swallow my response, along with the lump forming in my throat.
“What if you asked me to stay, for you?”
“Niall…”
“I loved her,” he says, stopping me. “Her mother.”
“Skylar’s mother?”
“I didn’t love her inthatway, but I loved her all the same. She gave me my daughter, so…” He smiles, sadly. “When she fell ill my whole world came crashing down. It isn’t easy to see someone so young fade away more and more every day. It’s not easy to think that there’s a little girl who will grow up without a mother; and it’s not easy to watch someone die. I didn’t want to see her like that. I was scared.”
“Scared of what she’d be like?”
“Scared that I would never be able to remember her as she was before. I didn’t want that to be my last memory of her; but I made a mistake. I was selfish. I let her die, alone, with only a scared, vulnerable girl by her side. I was a real piece of shit.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know what else I can say.
“When she died, I thought I’d lost myself. I didn’t even recognise my own reflection anymore; I stopped enjoying things that I used to love. I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning, take care of my daughter. I didn’t want to play anymore.”
“You had depression?”
“I was watching this girl grow up in front of my eyes, and I couldn’t help but fuel her own self-destruction; and mine. I did nothing to help her. I wasn’t the father she needed. I was nothing.”
“You were suffering, too. It wasn’t easy.”
“Then I realised as soon as I got here: it wasn’t my last chance, my last call. And after I kissed you, it felt like I’d lost myself only to be found again as a different person, in another life. Thanks to you.”
I can’t speak; I’m terrified that even one syllable would bring a gushing flow of tears.
