Page 88 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
She touched his arm again. “Oh, Carrick. You’re too hard on yourself. Honestly, there’s a part of me that admires a man who would keep a promise to the woman he loved. Even after she died. I’ve never been around a man like that, least of all been attracted to one. What does that say about me? Maybe I’m a little crazy too.”
He took her hand and laid it against his heart. “Maybe that makes us perfect for each other.”
“Maybe it does,” she whispered.
Cradling her head against his chest, he caressed her hair, learning the new shorter shape. “Since we’re sharing parts of ourselves, I wanted to ask about Megan. Bets mentioned she and Ollie had moved to a new cottage, and I ran into her after leaving your studio the other night. She didn’t seem very talkative, and I’ve noticed you haven’t been as keen to talk in the mornings. Are you all right?”
She blew out a long breath. “When I’m painting, I feel free. I don’t have to worry about being home for dinner or to get Ollie a bath and to bed. Not that I don’t see him. I do. We go biking and walk the fields and paint. After a lifetime of codependent patterns and living together for eight months, Megan and I are having growing pains. I tell myself Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
Carrick took her in his arms and stroked her hair. “Tough situation all around. But you’ve broken out, and hopefully this move will help your sister and Ollie.”
“She has been changing too,” Angie said. “Her affection for Kade’s dog is a good sign. And Ollie loves it here.”
He lifted her face. “And you’re thriving too. You’re painting gallery-worthy pieces again and starting to stand in your own feet, as we say. The new hair is a sign, as are the new wellies.”
She finally gave a smile, and it tugged his heart. “You noticed my daisy wellies?”
There were shadows under her eyes from all this talk. He wished they could rub off as easily as some of her paints. But that’s not how life worked. “Angie, I notice everything when it comes to you. Also, you’re figuring things out pretty well, in my humble opinion.”
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” She traced the dent in his jaw. “This is where I want to be. Carrick, you’re not like any man I’ve ever known.”
He took her face in his hands. “And you’re not like any woman I’ve known. I think it’s something to take care of people as you have. You did it out of love at the core, I expect, before things got twisted. You might remember that, even if things are a little thorny.”
Tears appeared in her eyes. “Love. Yeah, there was love. I loved my exes, and I love Megan. I do. Even when I’m upset with her. But while we’re on this subject, I should add that I’ve found a higher version of loving someone, someone I don’t feel compelled to take care of. Someone who doesn’t even need me.”
He knew in his bones who she was talking about. His heart seemed to warm in his chest. That space expanded, until he didn’t feel anything but the beat of his heart, a heart that Angie had brought back to life.Love. Is. Here.That had been the message in Bets’ garden, after his sheep had overrun it. On this, Sorcha had been right. God bless her.
He and Angie had pledged to be direct with each other, hadn’t they?
“If you’re talking about me, I’m of a similar mind.”
Her mouth opened and then closed and then opened again. “You are? But I thought—”
“We’ve both come around a long bend from our first discussion, Yank.” He smiled as he said it. “And we’ve surprised ourselves a fair bit in the process, have we not? Do you not know yourself and your heart?”
She nodded slowly. “I do. Not that I expect anything.”
That was part of the problem. She didn’t expect anything because she didn’t think she deserved anything. The irony was that her lack of expectations was the very thing that made him feel free to love her. Oh, they were contrary, he and this Yank. Perhaps they could tip the scales back in the other direction and find some balance, both in themselves and with each other.
He pointed to himself. “Even in my stubborn moments, do I strike you as a man who doesn’t know himself?”
The left side of her mouth tipped up. “You don’t.”
He took her hands in his own. “So tell me, and I’ll tell you.”
She inhaled deeply before saying, “I love you, Carrick.”
Some words conveyed promises that were binding, but these words had none of that. They were as pure as a sea-fed stream. “And I love you, Angie.”
“Okay, this is one hell of a surprise.” She tightened her grip on his hands. “You and I seem to create a lot of surprises together. With our direct talk.”
He leaned down and kissed her softly. “We do at that.”
“I have some more of it for you then.” She looked up at him, her smile stretching across her face. “I think you should come home with me tonight. We can both set the stage there.”
He didn’t want to wait any longer either. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
