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“You don’t want me,” he said.

She steeled herself for the final blow.

“No. I don’t want to marry you. So there’s nothing stopping you from London. Go. Go, Niall.” She chanced a look in his eyes and they were the softest, saddest blue she’d ever seen. She needed to get out of this house, away from him, before she crumbled into a pile at his feet and begged him to ignore everything she’d said. She caught one last glimpse of his stricken face before she turned and fled back up the road to the cottage.

Róisín found her there an hour later, sobbing into her pillow.

“My god!” she exclaimed. “Cordie, love, what’s happened?”

Cordelia crawled across her bed and laid her head in Róisín’s lap, the grass ring clutched in one hand as she told the whole story from Niall’s proposal to Deirdre’s arrival.

“You can’t ever tell him I was going to say yes,” Cordelia said, sitting up suddenly. “He can’t know. Because then he’ll say no to Deirdre’s offer and he needs to go to London, Róisín. He deserves this. He—”

“Quiet yourself, girl, I won’t be saying anything.” Róisín studied her with dark, discerning eyes. “You really do love him.”

“I do,” Cordelia said. The sobs took her again, and she cried into Róisín’s lap, her heart cracked wide open, its edges so sharp and jagged it hurt to breathe. Everything before her was blank, an endless march of time, the world drained of color because there would be no more Niall in it. She hadn’t understood how vibrantly he’d painted her life until now.

Her phone pinged and she ignored it. But then Róisín shifted on the bed and said, “Who’s Kate Sarkesian?”

Cordelia sat up. “What?”

Róisín held up the phone. “You’ve got an email from her.”

Cordelia grabbed the phone, her head spinning. “She was the editor for my coffee table book,” she said, moving to open the email. “I haven’t heard from her in years. I wonder what she …”

Her voice trailed off as she read.

Hi Cordelia,

I hope this email finds you well. I wanted to reach out because I’ve been following your Instagram and I am just loving all the pictures and stories you’ve been posting! In fact, my team and I love them so much, we’d like to do another book with you—one that will feature your work from Inishmore. I’m not sure when you’re back Stateside but I’d love to set up a time to meet and go over …

The rest of the email blurred as more tears filled her eyes. Another book. They wanted another book. If she’d received this email yesterday, Cordelia would have been running down the road to tell Niall. As it was she could only sit and stare at the tiny letters on the screen, her limbs drained and lifeless.

“She wants me to do another book,” Cordelia said thickly. “With the pictures I took here.”

“Well,” Róisín said, one wizened hand coming to grip Cordelia’s shoulder. “That’s grand, isn’t it?”

Cordelia nodded and more tears spilled down her cheeks. Róisín wiped them away gently. “What a day this has been for you, girlie,” she said. “I’ll make some tea.”

Cordelia sank back onto her pillow as Róisín headed into the kitchen. Her world had turned completely upside down, and Cordelia didn’t think it would ever feel righted again.

23

“She didn’t,” Colin said for the fifth time.

“She did,” Niall said wearily. He stared at the empty fireplace, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, his ass in the same spot on the couch it had been for hours, ever since Cordelia had broken up with him and left. Colin had found him there, sitting in agonized silence. Not crying, no, that would come later. Niall was just … blank.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Colin said. “You two are meant for each other! I don’t believe her, Niall. There’s got to be some other—she can’t—I mean, you guys are—fucking Christ, does Deirdre have to ruin everything?”

“Cordelia’s right, though,” Niall said thickly. “I’ve got to go to London.”

“Sure, yes, I agree with you on that despite Deirdre the fucking trollop being part of the deal. But Cordie could go with you!”

“She doesn’t want to, Colin, you dumb bastard, haven’t you been listening? She doesn’t want me.” Niall sprang to his feet so suddenly Colin leaned back in his chair. Niall slammed his whiskey down on the side table and started pacing around the room. “I never should have proposed. Scared her right off, I did. Great fucking job, Niall. Am I some sort of cosmic joke? Is this the universe’s way of letting me know I should throw in the towel on love? I love Cordelia, Colin. I love her so much it hurts. And I went and fucking lost her, all because I had to open my damn mouth and propose. Who proposes after a month? Nobody. Of course she said no.”

“But it felt like the two o’ you had been together for ages,” Colin insisted. “I never seen you like that with anyone—not even Deirdre. Christ, if I’d thought it was a crazy idea I would’ve told you so.”

Niall slumped back down onto the couch. “Leave me be,” he mumbled. “I can’t talk about this anymore.”