“Jeremy Anderson spent years getting thousands of dollars to excavate unimportant plots of land. Universities and non-profits sank money into him because he was young, and charismatic, and supported America’s romantic idea of Celtic Ireland. They spent money earmarked for the Iron Age, or Ireland, and none of that money went to actual digs.
“I have artifacts sitting in storage because I can’t afford to sort them and categorize them. I have evidence for sites that have never been funded. We all do what we must, one way or the other, Ms. Sullivan. And I must keep Anderson from sinking our entire discipline. I’m sorry if you felt your character had been assassinated. But if you weren’t going to leave him, I had to make sure you weren’t able to suck more money away from projects that really needed it.”
I couldn’t even breathe.
He shrugged. “But it seems you aren’t as young and naïve as I thought. You figured out Jeremy was a fool on your own. Good on you, for your work on Kilkarten.” He extended his hand. “I hope we’ll be able to collaborate in the future.”
His hand loomed large in my sight, skin tanned and weathered from long hours outside, fingers blunt and square. I took it, feeling numb. And then something uncurled inside me, and I met his pale blue eyes straight on. “Jeremy fostered a love of learning and knowledge in me. He gave me opportunities and responsibilities, and I respect him and admire him.”
I took a moment to mull over my next words, and they came out slowly spaced. “I understand acting drastically when you think you have no other option. But I am still deeply offended by what you said. Still, I am committed to my work at Kilkarten. I am excited about the future. And I would like to be civil colleagues.”
“Then we will, Ms. Sullivan.” He nodded at me, and he nodded at Mike, and started away. I’d almost let the tense breath out when he stopped and looked back with bright eyes. “I did not mean the Willie Scott comment maliciously, Ms. Sullivan. In fact, I always admired your mother very much.”
He vanished.
My legs folded and I landed shakily in my seat.
Mike dropped in the seat beside me. “Never thought I’d feel any sympathy for Jeremy.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Never thought I’d feel any empathy for Ceile.” I shook my head to clear it. “Thank you for coming. It meant a lot to me, to see you there. To see you now.”
He shrugged. “I told you I’d be here.”
And because he’d said he would, he was. A sudden rush of warmth and certainty washed over me. “Mike—”
“Anyway,” he interrupted, reaching into his pocket and placing a folded packet of papers on the table. “I wanted you to think about this.”
I stared down at the sheet. “What is this?”
He gave me his crooked smile. “It’s a list of everywhere we play this season. Including the International Game in London.” He waited a few seconds as I read the sheet. “I’m not trying to tie you down. You might’ve heard it that way, but it’s not what I meant. I’ve never known someone like you. And I don’t think you would be happy bound to one place. I don’t want to bind you. I just want to go with you.” He stood. “So think about it.”
He didn’t give me time to think. He didn’t even look at me. He just got up and walked away.
For a moment, my eyes traced all the paper, and my fingers beat against my leg, and then I relaxed my hand and shut my eyes and took two deep breaths.
When I stood and looked forward, he had reached the exit.
“Mike.”
He stopped in the doorway, and then slowly turned back. Blank-faced, to the rest of the world, but I could see the shadows of hurt and hope. “Yeah?”
“I used to think that I would never care about anything as much as I cared about Ivernis. And that I would care about it forever.”
I saw the wince in his eyes.
“But I was wrong. Because this—us—it’s entirely different. It doesn’t edge it out, it’s more—like I have two hearts, and one breaks for Ivernis, and the other is completely filled.” I paused to swallow. “Mike. Michael O’Connor. I love you. When I hold objects from thousands of years ago, I get this feeling, this glow that spreads through my chest and warms spots I didn’t know were cold, that makes me smile without realizing it—and it is nothing compared to how I feel around you.
“But I’m scared. I’m not very good at loving people. I’m very comfortable not being in love. I like my friends, my career, my life. I have never felt incomplete without romance. Maybe because I’ve never seen a good example. But I love you. I love you so much, I guess I’m scared that it will disappear. Because even if I feel so much now, what will it be like in ten years, twenty? I can’t promise that I’ll always feel this way. I can’t promise we’ll be perfect.
“What if our fire disappears, and we just flicker lower and lower until one day we’re cold and dark and dry? It’s so scary I’d almost rather douse the fire now. Because then at lease the memory of it will be tinted with roses.
“Maybe one of the reasons I love archaeology so much is that the more you learn, the more real it becomes. It starts out blurry and solidifies, and you can’t look at the future and say the same. You can’t clear away dirt and see fifty
years in the future, like you can see into the past. You just have to wait.
“But I was wrong because it’s not waiting, it’s living. And I cannot picture a world without you, not now, or in five years, or in twenty.
“And maybe this is all immaterial because you have moved on and maybe I’m too much effort and you shouldn’t start something with someone who sees doom written across a relationship, who is irrevocably broken. But I thought you should know. I want forever. I do. I want all of it. And it might be work—it might be the hardest thing in my life—but I don’t want to run away anymore. I don’t want to keep leaving. I want you.”