24
Amy
Cobh is glorious. So is having Kerry’s hand in mine as we walk around. He’s not in a suit for once, instead in a sweater and dark blue jeans, looking delectable. It’s the first bit of normalcy that we’ve had as a couple.
I need that. Desperately. The bits of sunshine peeking through the clouds, the ocean breeze whipping through my hair, the smell of seasalt air around me. It’s been alongfew months, and frankly, I feel at the edge of burnout. I miss the familiar. My routine, my classes. But I know part of the issue is that I haven’t made anewroutine yet. Everything keeps changing too much.
But, once we get back from our honeymoon, the grand ball will happen, and then Kerry promises that things will calm down. A new normal. A time to settle into my new life with him.
Maybe this honeymoon is just a peek into that future.
We drive only a couple minutes from our cottage to downtown Cobh. We probably could’ve probably walked. But it’s far enough away from the town that it’s more private and peaceful, which is nice.
Rows of brightly painted houses line the cobblestone streets. I take in the sights of the ocean in the near distance as Kerry’s hand warms mine. A historic cathedral sits on the hill,overlooking the city like an ornate angel. Lots of other people mull about, snapping pictures and chatting loudly. Kids run around, dashing between groups of people as their parents stroll behind, keeping tabs on them.
Kerry pulls me into a pub for dinner, his hand on my lower back. It’s a full pub, the chatter of happy patrons filling the space, but we’re able to find a table tucked into the corner. For the first time since my grandmother first told me I’d be married off, I feel normal again. With average people, in an ordinary setting. Kerry looks more like a casual, charming man rather than a mafia overlord. Well, as normal as he can be with his dashing good looks.
“You should try a Guinness.” Kerry pokes my arm.
I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t really like beer that much.”
He lifts his eyebrows to match mine in challenge. “But you’re Irish now.”
I hesitate. This feels like a trick question. His gaze upon me is intense, and I feel my resolve cracking.Besides, that way I can at least say that I’ve tried it.“Okay. I’ll give it a go.”
Kerry’s entire face lights up. My palms feel a bit clammy at the thought of what I’ll do if Idon’tlike it. Do I lie? This is obviously a pretty important cultural thing. I don’t want to offend him. Or Marjorie. Orall of Ireland.Irish people are pretty passionate, especially about Irish things. Guinness being at the top of that list.
Kerry waves down our waiter, ordering two Guinnesses, and then some fish and chips, with a small side of seafood chowder.
“I’m not sure I can eat all of that.” I chuckle.
Kerry just shrugs. “It’s okay if you don’t. You justhaveto try the local seafood here. It’s non-optional.”
I laugh, but I can tell my husband is completely serious about this. It doesn’t take long for our beers to arrive in big, glasspints. Kerry looks giddy, his eyes tracking my face with a wild excitement gleaming in them.
I take a sip, and… okay, it’s not as bad as I feared. It’s nice after walking around in the sunshine for the past few hours. As far as beers go, it’s good. But I can still safely say I’m a wine kind of gal. “It’s…good.”
Kerry raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I don’t think it’s my preferred drink, but it’s not bad.”
He chuckles and shrugs. “Good enough, I suppose.” He leans in, tapping his fingers on the shiny surface of the table. “So…why don’t you tell me about this show that you and the boys are going to subject me to?”
Ecstasy runs through me at the thought of getting to talk about my favorite show. Time flies as I chat about it, and soon, food is being set before us.
Okay, Kerry was right. This food is tasty. It’s greasy, which is just what I need after a long day. My husband seems relieved that I’m enjoying it so much, like accepting his culture’s food meant acceptinghim.I reach over and squeeze his hand, and he returns it with a squeeze of his own, a smile shared between us.
Kerry takes my hand as we walk out once we finish eating and pay. His thumb rubs the back of my knuckles as we head down a hill, strolling along the cobblestone streets. I don’t realize we’re nearing the ocean until I can hear it. I gasp as a thrill runs down my spine, making me straighten. Kerry laughs and squeezes my hand again. “I love when you get excited like that.”
Relief and joy washes over me at his words. While no one’s ever directly told me, I can tell that my overexuberance often upsets people. They’re uncomfortable by it, by howmuchit is, how loud, how overenthusiastic, like a child. It’s not what it’ssupposedto be. And that’s hard, to have to hide my joy oversomething. His words heal a part of me that I didn’t know was hurting.
But, by the twinkle in his eyes, I think Kerry knew there was a wound there. He makes me feel more seen than I ever have before.
Cobh feels like our own little bubble of paradise for a few hours as we stroll around. We talk about everything and nothing, but for a lot of it, we just sit in comfortable silence, just watching the water together. There isn’t a beach, per se, just a dock, but the street goes right along the water. It feels like a holy moment in time. The sort of memory we’ll be talking about the rest of our lives.
Vanilla ice cream drips down my chin as I hold a cone with one hand, still holding Kerry’s with the other. Kerry laughs and wipes it away with his thumb, licking off the sugar mess as he winks at me. I huff and shove him playfully, making him nearly lose his balance as he laughs.
We finish our ice cream just in time for the sun to begin to set, so we head away from the water and further into the city, but we don’t get far before we’re stopped in our tracks. The sound of a fiddle suddenly pierces the air, a man’s singing then occupying it. I look down the street, seeing a small group of people forming around the busker, and I clap my hands as we join them.Could this day be any more perfect?
