Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

I’d laughed before, the few times I’d told this story, but it struck me now that I didn’t really find it funny. Just sad. “He was her lawyer. Turned out a contact lens company had been using her image illegally for years, so she sued.”

He studied me. “I’m guessing they didn’t just fall madly in love.”

I shrugged and examined the silver around Mom’s pupil, which faded into dark, crushed charcoal. “She was young and beautiful. He was older and successful. Tale as old as time.”

“Real beast?”

I snorted real laughter. “Married one too.”

“That sucks.”

“Ah, well.” I looked down at the picture for a long moment.

Mike didn’t move. Behind us, bursts of laughter spilled from tourists and cameras flashed brightly.

“I’m always so angry whenever I’m with them,” I finally said. “But the rest of the time, I worry. Isn’t that ridiculous? I think my father thinks my mother is silly and petty, and Mom thinks he’s abrasive and uncaring, and I kind of think they’re both right. And I shouldn’t worry, because it’s none of my business, and if they get divorced, wouldn’t that be a good thing if it’s what they want?

“My mother just emailed and said one of those reality shows offered her a judging position. But not all those shows are nice, so I worry she’s being exploited and they’ll make fun of her. And if Dad found out he’d be furious.”

“Would it make her happy?”

I turned around again, back to the serene water and gentle waving trees. “Is that what we’re supposed to base our decisions off of? What makes us happy?”

Mike caught my arm and turned me slightly, and then he smiled the crooked smile, my smile, and it said, you would make me happy.

And so I kissed him, and he kissed me, and I was happy.

“Natalie! Mike!”

We broke apart and found Anna waving at us. “Come on, we’re headed to the house!”

“Oh my God,” I muttered as she ran after the others. “I can’t believe she saw that.” Then I scowled. “I can’t believe she’d didn’t look the least bit surprised.”

Chapter Fourteen

After touring the house, we walked down to the lake, and later stopped in Cork at a Mexican restaurant Lauren had found online. We still returned to Dundoran by eight, since Anna had plans with a cohort of names the rest of us couldn’t remember.

The next week was an endless stretch of happiness. In the mornings and afternoons, I talked to locals about the surrounding land, visited nearby libraries and town halls and read newspapers and local publications. In the evenings, the O’Connor family took me in, and we’d either hang out at the inn or meet up with acquaintances or thrice removed relations in Dundoran.

And the nights, I spent with Mike.

That Friday, I met with Mrs. Harrington from three towns over when she was visiting her sister in Dundoran. She told me an incredibly exciting story about artifacts from fifteen hundred years ago that she’d found on their land. I was still bouncing when I went to meet Mike and Lauren, despite the sudden summer thunderstorm. I ran through the village to the pub, clutching my precious notebook close so no ink would be smeared or paper ruined by the rain. I shook myself off when I went inside.

People packed the pub. A band had set up shop in one corner and played traditional Irish music, and a handful of tables had been pushed aside to make room for dancing. I made my way over to Mike, and he handed me a Guinness.

What a coincidence. I had just been in a mood for more Guinness.

We ended up squished at a table with Lauren and Paul. Mike scowled at his cousin. “Don’t you have any other friends?”

Paul took a swig of his pint. “You think I want to be hanging about with a bunch of culchies?”

We didn’t need an Irish-to-American dictionary to know that Paul was being derisive; he alternated insulting adjectives with great fluidity. I actually considered it a form of language immersion.

Mike leaned forward. “So why are you still here?”

Paul’s eyes slid in Lauren’s direction for the briefest second, and he shrugged. “Someone’s got to see Aunt Maggie sorted. Knew you weren’t up to it.”

A muscle in Mike’s jaw ticked. “Look, Connelly—”