Page 124 of Since We're Here
“Is she behind me?” I practically whisper.
“No, sheep for brains. Come on.”
“No need to bring my sheep into this.” I continue to follow Oliver, and soon we’re at the edge of the viewing area, the ocean crashing against the jagged rocks below us, a view of the bridge behind us.
“What are you going to do about it?” Oliver asks.
“Nothing.” But I don’t feel as certain about that as I did a few minutes ago.
“Wrong answer. She’s right here. She’s not gone back to America yet. Dinna wait until it’s too late to tell her how you feel.”
The bottom falls out of my stomach. Tell her? How can I tell her how I feel?
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” The rain starts spitting down, and I pull up the hood of my sweatshirt.
“Well, think about it. Figure it out. Talk to her before it’s too late.”
“You sound like my sister,” I grumble.
Stella and Ethan are halfway across the bridge, and the other women are almost at the island, Maddie ahead of Reese, laughing with her hair blowing around her, crazy in the wind. At least she’s wearing leggings today instead of a dress.
That woman is wild and gorgeous.
I wish she were mine.
“Feck.”
“She’s still right in front of you. Don’t lose your chance.”
I close my eyes for a second and picture it. Telling her how I really feel. Opening up the part of my heart that’s been closed off for a long time.
I want to feel vulnerable with her again. I was there... and then I self-destructed. Chased her away.
I’m ready now.
“Alright.”
“Alright?” Oliver looks at me with wide eyes.
“Yeah. I’ll do it. I’ll tell her.”
It’s selfish. It’s too late. She’ll reject me.
But I’m going to tell her how I feel anyway.
34
MADDIE
Donegal Town is a delightful town in County Donegal, Ireland, and we’re all enjoying pints at McKinney’s, a lively bar in the city center. The pub has low ceilings, cozy brick walls, a wooden bar, and mismatched, quirky tables. Most of all, it’s warm and dry and not swaying a hundred feet above rough ocean waters.
Nor is it a super creepy hole in the ground that’s rumored to be a gateway to hell. We found out we couldn’t actually go to the island it’s on and visit the monastery built above the hole, so we skipped Saoirse’s suggestion for a stop in Donegal.
The lively band of fiddlers is loud and we can barely talk above them. I sip my pint of Guinness and enjoy the lilting music. If I close my eyes, I could be back at O’Brien’s on that first Friday night, the one where I asked Patrick to kiss me in the dark hallway.
