Page 96 of Heart Strings
Aidan swallows hard next to me, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. We all talk for a little while longer, and my parents get to know Aidan some more. Then my dad has to go. I make sure to tell my dad I love him before he signs off. It’s something I regrettably didn’t do at the wedding, and life is too short to hold a grudge. After I say goodbye to my mom, I gently close the laptop and collapse into Aidan’s arms.
All the anxiety and doubt of the past few weeks is channeled into sobs against his solid, grounding chest. We were both relieved when we learned that my test result was benign, clinging to each other in the oncologist’s office earlier this afternoon, but my catharsis was delayed. Now that I don’t have to stay composed for the sake of my parents, the pent-up emotion is finally flowing through me.
Aidan runs his hand over my back. His eyes well with tears and I know he needed a release, too. I kiss his cheek and the tipof his freckled nose and the dimple I missed as I climb into his lap. It knocks him a little off balance and his elbow grazes the side table. The candle falls onto my sofa, wafting fetid scent as it rolls across the cushion toward us.
“Can we throw this manky thing in the bin now?” Aidan asks, snatching it up.
“Please!” I hop to the other side of the couch, putting distance between me and the soy wax.
Without another word, Aidan eyes my kitchen trash from his seat on the couch, stands, and tosses the jar. My mouth drops open as it sails toward the kitchen in a high arc. To my surprise, the candle swishes cleanly through the swinging lid and into the can with a satisfying crash of broken glass.
Laughter spills out of me like I’m the one who’s been broken open.
It makes me feel alive. Aidan joins in my hysteria, wiping the mirth from his eyes. He’s my ally and my solace. When I’m with him, I feel weightless. Delirious. The most talented and beautiful man I’ve ever known. He’s mine. And I’m his.
I know, down to my soul, that what we share is real.
I won’t take this life—this gorgeous, fierce love we’ve earned—for granted again.
Epilogue
Aidan
One Year Later
The Hare’s Breathis so packed tonight that patrons spill out into the cobblestone street. Our hometown pub is abuzz for the launch of the first single off my upcoming album with Nigel’s new indie label. We had to wait a year thanks to the non-compete clause in my previous contract, and buying myself out was eye-wateringly expensive, but it was worth the sacrifice to have control over my own creative destiny.
Hands-down, the new album is my best work to date. Irreverent and personal and aching with the yearning I’d pent up for years. Whether it’s just me and my mandolin, or layered with rich analog texture and a full band. Instead of feeling daunted by the upcoming tour, I’m excited to share these new songs with fans.
My contract now guarantees a scaled-back tour that includes a month-long break scheduled between the European leg and North American dates to come home and recalibrate. No moreperforming myself to exhaustion. This time around, I’m also protecting my relationships from too much distance. During my recording and promotion travels for this album, Lo and I made sure to dedicate time to reconnect. Calls, video chats, plenty of goofy photos. With creativity and effort, I know that we’ll be able to get through a little long distance.
“Everyone is going to love it, A.” Lo curls up to my side in our favorite snug and gives me an encouraging squeeze.
“I’m not stalling,” I protest. “I’m just soaking in the moment.”
Callum and Lark usually avoid large crowds, but they’re here to support tonight’s event, sitting opposite us in the high-walled booth. Of course, Callum helped me write some of the music, along with Saoirse. She’s already keen to start playing, conspicuously inspecting her fiddle by the stage, so I kick back this pint and get to it.
Out in the audience, my family cheers and whistles to goad me onstage. Mam insisted on knitting commemorative jumpers for the occasion, and outfitted Fionn, Marie, my dad, and Lo in colors that match the cover of the single. When Lo received hers, she hugged it to her chest and exclaimed that she’s never taking it off.
Fine by me; she somehow makes the damn thing look sexy.
Cielo’s fully let me in and we’re stronger than ever. I try to join her a couple times a week for her swim. It’s been a joy to watch her rediscover her passion for the water. Recent follow-up bloodwork confirmed that managing her stress has helped her bounce back after the health scare. What a relief. While her mom still keeps Lo’s press stocked with all manner of supplements, their relationship has become healthier, and she’s checking in regularly with her dad now, too.
I step up onto the tiny corner stage to deafening applause. Saoirse and Fionn grin sheepishly, instruments in hand, waiting for it to die down before they bother to start playing. I adjust the strap of the mandolin over my shoulder and pluck out the opening notes of “Apology Tour.”
I humble myself to the one who I adore
Our hearts beat in time
When our bodies intertwine
Babe, I’m yours forevermore
Begging your forgiveness on the apology tour
Cielo and I lock eyes. It’s no wonder I feel inspired around such a headstrong, brilliant woman. When the music starts and we connect, the rest of the pub melts away. It’s just us and the knowledge that these lyrics are more than pretty words. Just like she’s so much more than a pretty face. These songs are our love story, forevermore.
