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Her eyes popped. “Seriously?”

“You know him?”

“He’s like the straight, American version of Ritchie. He just opened a place in Tokyo, I think.” Niall could see the gears working. “This is fantastic. I’ve got to tell Ritchie he was in. Let me know what he orders, would ya? Let’s comp them dessert.”

Niall nodded as Will signaled to him.

“Ready to order?” Niall asked.

“Yes,” Will said, rubbing his hands together. “We’ll share the mussels to start.”

“And I’ll have the lobster risotto,” Jules said.

“I’m trying to decide between the salmon and the lamb,” Will said. “I think I’ll do the lamb. I love a good hasselback potato.”

“Right,” Niall said. “Excellent choice.”

It wasn’t exactly the same as the lamb dish he’d made for O’Connor’s, but it was close. He probably shouldn’t have put it on the menu at all, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He wanted a tiny piece of her there.

“I bet you say that about every one of these dishes,” Jules joked.

Niall’s answering smile was tense. “Nah. The lamb is quite special to me.”

“Oh really?” Will said, leaning forward. “Is there a story behind it?”

Niall realized the trap he’d fallen into. “Not really, no,” he said quickly. “Reminds me of something I used to make at home, that’s all.”

“Where are you from in Ireland?” Will asked.

“Oh, ah, Inishmore? It’s one of the Aran – ”

“Oh my god,” Jules said. “You’re Niall! Niall from that Instagram thing!”

Niall felt his insides turn to jelly. Jules was taking out her phone. “This photographer did a whole series on Inishmore – it’s so cool, Will, let me show you.”

“I don’t – ” Niall began but she was already scrolling through. “Look!” she said, holding up the phone. “It’s you!”

Niall’s vision blurred as he saw himself on the screen. It was a shot she had taken of him and his father filling the pints for the Guinness races at Pátrún. Niall’s throat closed up remembering the dancing later in the evening, the walk to the cottage, the . . .

No. He slammed the door firmly on that night.

“Yup, that’s me,” he said.

“I love her work,” Jules said, not realizing how close she was to shattering Niall into a thousand pieces by saying one simple name. “She’s from New York,” she explained to Will, “and she was staying on the island for the summer and interviewed all the locals. There’s this one old woman, I forget her name – ”

“Róisín,” Niall said.

“Yes! She’s so funny. How crazy to meet you! Small world. Oh!” she said, looking back at her phone. “I guess she’s publishing a book about her time there.”

She held up the screen again and Niall saw a post announcing the news.

“Oh,” Niall said woodenly. “Cool.”

Will seemed to pick up on his agitation. “Let’s not keep you, if the kitchen’s closing soon.”

“Right. I’ll get those orders in. Cheers.”

Niall quickly placed the order then hurried out from behind the bar and down the hall past the kitchen. He leaned against the wall next to a mop and bucket, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d told himself he’d never look at those pictures again. The memories were too strong, bursting free from their cages. He jammed his knuckles into his eyes as if he could forcibly push them back to the dark recesses of his mind.