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“Colin said you were cooking!” she exclaimed, coming over to kiss Niall’s cheek. “God, doesn’t this look grand. I brought wine and dessert. Colin, fix me up a G&T, would ya? Cordie, don’t you look lovely.”

Did she? She hadn’t really thought about what she was wearing. She hadn’t intended to be anywhere but home alone for dinner. Alison wrapped her up in a warm hug, Colin started to play a Sam Cooke tune on his guitar, and Niall popped the potatoes in the oven. As she and Alison danced while Colin sang “Another Saturday Night,” Cordelia couldn’t believe how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

And she couldn’t imagine any place else she’d rather be.

Niall was feeling quite light-headed.

And it wasn’t just Colin’s heavy hand in making a drink.

He hadn’t wanted anyone here for his first foray back into the kitchen, but now he was grateful that Pocket had wandered over to the cottage, and that Colin had called Alison. What had he been so afraid of? It was steak and potatoes, for Christ’s sake. He’d forgotten the pure joy of cooking, not only the mixing of flavors, and the scent of herbs, and the sizzle of meat, but the joy at having friends around to share it with. There was music, laughter, silly chatter about nonsense—Niall wasn’t taking everything so goddamned seriously for once.

He was glad he’d told some of his story to Cordelia. It had been like drawing poison from a wound. The memories didn’t quite have the sting they used to.

She did look lovely, as Alison had noted, in her soft gray top with a scooped neckline. And those socks. Niall didn’t know why, but every time he looked at them he chuckled. They were utterly ridiculous. And utterly adorable.

His brain screeched to a halt as he thought the word, then veered away toward safe waters. Meat. Cook the meat. Asparagus. Is the griddle hot enough? Don’t burn the potatoes.

“Can I help with anything?” Cordelia asked, skidding to his side, flushed from all the dancing. “Anything not cooking related?”

“D’you mind setting the table?” he said. The heat of her body was radiating against his left arm. She’d put her hair up in a messy bun, but a few strands stuck to her jaw. His eyes snagged on the pale gold freckles scattered in a unique pattern across her left cheek.

“Why, I’d love to,” she said in a very bad Irish accent.

He laughed. “Doing impressions now, are we?”

She grinned and her freckles danced with the movement. Colin was leading Alison in a rendition of “Chain of Fools.” Niall bent down to take the potatoes out of the oven.

“Whoa!” Cordelia said, coming over with her hands full of cutlery. “Those look so cool!”

The skin had crisped up nicely and the potatoes looked like little fans. Niall sprinkled them with rosemary and salt, then set them aside.

“Now to cook the steak,” he said. He placed two strips side by side in the pan and watched the concern in Cordelia’s eyes when she heard them sizzle.

“Are they burning?” she said.

“Never,” Niall said. “You need the pan to be hot to get a nice sear on the outside and keep the steak pink on the inside.” He shot her a wary look. “You’re not one of those Americans who eats their steak so well done it’s basically rubber, are you?”

Cordelia shook her head so hard her bun flopped about. “Medium rare. Always.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Niall said. “Weren’t you going to set the table?”

“I wanna see you flip them,” she said. Her eyes were bright, her expression openly eager in a way that made Niall’s chest go strangely soft.

“It’s not that exciting, I promise you.”

“I still want to see.”

He smiled. “Okay.” They needed to cook for a few minutes first, and he thought about telling her she had time to do both, but he found he liked having her there.

Just then, Alison’s phone rang.

“Hello?” she said, breathless. “Hiya … What? … Aw shite. No, it’s fine, I’ll go … All right. Yup, cheers, bye.”

“Everything okay?” Colin asked.

“We’ve got a big party coming this week with lots of dietary restrictions and the order just arrived and it’s fucked. Not the right things at all. I’ll have to go to Galway tomorrow and get supplies meself.” She turned to Cordelia. “I’m so sorry, I can’t take you to Dún Dúchathair like we’d planned.”

“That’s all right,” Cordelia said. “I’ve got a map, I can go by myself.”