Donal and I were sitting in my living room, having toured Dublin’s historic Kilmainham Gaol a few hours prior. It’d been a somber afternoon—the story about the couple who’d gotten married moments before the husband was executed for his participation in the country’s rebellion had stuck with me. What would it be like to love someone so much that you’d marry them knowing they’d be dead in hours? I couldn’t imagine the emotional fortitude it would take to go through something like that.

Now, with those thoughts swirling in my head, I knew if I wanted Donal in my life beyond the present, sacrifices needed to be made. Certainly not as dramatic, but beyond what I’d ever thought possible.

“My contract is up next week,” I murmured, bringing my wine glass to my lips.

Donal tipped back his beer, finishing what was left in the bottle before setting it aside. His eyes locked on mine, he answered, “It is.”

I dropped his piercing gaze and stared down into the ruby liquid and then brought my eyes to his. “I don’t want our time to be over.”

“I don’t want that either.” His eyes slipped away, and he licked his lips. “If I thought I had a chance of success, I’d try to convince you to stay even longer.”

“Donal, we talked about this.”

We’d talked, and talked, and talked … and then talked some more. He’d tried to convince me to move to Dublin permanently, but I couldn’t do that. First of all, there were visa issues to consider, and I didn’t think the Irish government was keen to give one to me just because I’d gone and fallen in love. Second, there was my mom to consider. It was bad enough that I’d left her as long as I had; it was time for me to put a plan in motion for my return. Thirdly … well, you didn’t just uproot your entire life after having known someone for less than three months.

Did you?

Nothing about us worked on paper—we were as unlikely together as two people could ever be. And yet, when I was in Donal’s arms, everything felt right. I knew the type of crazy, topsy-turvy love we shared didn’t come along very often, but I didn’t know how to make things work outside of the little bubble we’d created for ourselves here in Dublin.

And neither did he.

The truth was, there was no long-term solution to our problem. All we could do now was delay the inevitable.

Donal sighed and heaved his body off the couch. After grabbing another beer from my fridge, he dropped back down across from me. “I know. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wishing things were different.”

“Me neither,” I answered regretfully. What I wouldn’t give to have met Donal at a different point in my life. But I hadn’t, and we needed to make the best of the time we had left together.

“I spoke with my mom last night. I’ve arranged the caretaker to stay an extra week.”

He let out a gust of pent up air and dropped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Donal brought his face forward. “And then?”

So far, we’d only talked about me staying here. I’d been too chicken to broach the subject of him going back with me for a couple of weeks because even if he did, that wasn’t a long-term solution either. He’d get a 90-day tourist visa, and then in three months, we’d be right back where we’d started.

And yet …

“You could come to L.A. for a visit.”

He stared at me for what seemed to stretch into eternity as I waited with bated breath for his reply. “Where would I stay?”

“With me, of course.”

He nodded and looked away. “How long?”

“As long as you want,” I replied, my nerves kicking up. Donal staying at my place in L.A. would be a monumental step in our relationship. Yes, we’d admitted that we were falling in love with one another, but that didn’t erase the fact that since the beginning of our relationship, we’d only ever spent two nights together at a time. He had his place, and I had mine. And now that he’d traded in his manual for an automatic, we spent even less time together since I didn’t need to drive him around anymore. If we did this, he’d effectively be moving in with me.

Were we ready for that?

“Are you ready for that?” he asked.

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. It was as if he could read my damn mind.

“Nah, just your face,” he smirked as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. “You’re so expressive, I can read you like a book.”

I laughed out loud. “Bullshit.”

I’d had four relationships worth being labeled such. I’d broken up with one of the men when I realized he was falling in love and I wasn’t. In another instance, neither of us saw a future together and had parted on friendly terms. The other two? They’d both said I was cold and closed off … unreadable. When one man said that about you, it was easy to push the criticism aside as justification for his failings, but when two men said the same thing, it was time to start questioning if they were right. I’d even gone so far as to ask a close friend what she thought. She’d clucked and hugged me before saying I just hadn’t found the right man yet to unlock my hidden depths. I’d taken her answer as an unequivocal yes.

Studying me with shrewd eyes that belied his age, Donal scratched his stubbled jaw. “The idea of us living together—even for a short while—terrifies the living shit out of you, doesn’t it?” When I didn’t answer, he continued, “You love me, but you don’t see a future for us. You want to be with me, but a small part of you wonders why we’re bothering to prolong the inevitable.”

My eyes went wide. “How do you …” My question trailed off before I could fully acknowledge how right he was.

Donal crawled across the sofa until he reached me. Taking my glass, he set it aside. “I told you. I see you, Lauren.”

My eyes flicked between his and then down to his mouth. His lips hitched up in a shy, knowing smile before he leaned forward and pressed those lips to mine. When he pulled away, he said, “I’m in it for the long haul.”

“But how? We literally live an ocean apart.”

“What if we didn’t?”

The question hung between us for several long moments.

“How?” I eventually asked, and then held my breath, so afraid was I to hear his answer.

With his body propped up with one strong arm, Donal pushed a lock of hair behind my ear with the other. “I could move to L.A. to be with you.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. “You’d do that?” I asked, my eyes tracing the planes of his face and filling with tears. It was too much. He was too much.

“I’d do anything for us to be together.” Donal’s mouth dropped to mine. Our lips merged, and our tongues tangled. “I was made for loving you, Lauren,” he said, pulling away. “Let me love you.”

As a fat tear slipped down my cheek, I marveled at how far Donal and I had come and how fast. At how I’d ever thought he was just a temporary blip on my radar … at how I’d told myself that years from now he’d be nothing more than a lovely memory I’d cling to at night.

The truth was, Donal Casey was lodged so far in my heart I would never be able to shake free of him. I never wanted to.

He was right. He saw me. And he loved me—better than any man before him. Better than I’d ever thought possible. His entire life was here in Dublin, and yet he was willing to give it all up to be with me back home in America. I could never have done the same for him—not with the situation with my mother—but he’d never even thought to ask me to.

And now he was telling me he was all in.

Could we do this? Should we do this?

Fuck it, I thought, pushing my doubts aside. I loved this man, and I wanted to be with him as long as fate would allow. I knew one day we’d go our separate ways, but in the meantime, I permitted myself to be selfish and cling to what we had.

I nodded and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me with an “oomph.”

Laughing, he said into my neck, “I take it that’s a yes.”

“Yes, Donal. Yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes.”

“I like it when you scream yes,” he chuckled and then sucked my neck into his mouth, his teeth nibbling their way down to my collarbone. “Think I can get you to do it again?”

I squirmed against him, opening my legs wider so he could settle between my thighs. “What do you think?” I asked, rolling my hips against his erection.

“I think I fucking love you,” he answered, pushing his hand into my leggings to find my pussy already wet and needy for him. “Fuck, Lauren. You’re dripping.”

I bucked against his fingers, silently begging him to touch me harder, faster.

“I want to be inside you. Forever,” Donal growled, shoving his fingers in deep and twisting them to hit my g-spot. “Do you hear me? You’re it for me, Lauren.”

My back arched off the couch, and I closed my eyes and dropped my head back, savoring his words but trying not to let them drill too deeply into my heart. I’d heard something similar before, and that man had turned out to be a liar. Not that Donal was anything like Javier, but it was hard to let go of old hurts. So instead of his whispered promises, I focused my attention on the magic of his touch.

“Open your eyes,” Donal commanded from above me.

When they fluttered open, I found his face hovering inches from mine, fierce and determined. “I mean it, baby. You and me, together always.” His thumb circled my clit and my breath caught, the intensity of his stare and the exquisite pressure of his fingers taking me higher and higher. “Say you believe me.”

My whole body trembled with the force of my impending orgasm, but I didn’t want to let go just yet. I didn’t trust myself not to say things I could never take back. Instead, I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, using my flesh to back the words.

“Say it, Lauren,” he urged, his fingers entering me and stroking the exact spot he knew would make me fall apart.

Unable to hold up under the weight of his scrutiny, my eyes dropped closed, and my head thrashed back and forth as my pussy clamped down on his fingers and I came with a pent up growl of ecstasy.

When I came back down, Donal slid his fingers from my body and sat back, his face a mask of hurt and … something I couldn’t put a name to. Not disappointment so much as regret. “You can’t say it, can you?” He twisted on the sofa, his feet coming to rest on the floor, then dropped his head into his hands.

I scooted close and laid my palm on his shoulder. “I’m—”

I stopped. What was there to say? I hadn’t been able to give him the words he’d wanted. In fact, I’d physically held myself back from blurting them out. The problem was, I wanted to believe him. Hell, I believed he believed what he was saying. But Donal was young, and this wasn’t my first rodeo. Just because he felt this way now—in the heat of the moment while our love was still fresh and new—didn’t mean it could sustain itself.

His hands dropped to his knees, and his head swiveled to face me. Pinning me in place with red-rimmed eyes, he whispered, “You’re what, Lauren?”

“I’m scared,” I answered honestly. “I love you, and you love me … but I’ve been in love before. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with Javier.” Donal winced when I said my former lover’s name. He hadn’t said so explicitly, but I knew he hated this facet of my past.

“I’m not fucking Javier,” he growled.

I sat back on my haunches. “I know that.” When he tossed a skeptical look my way, I repeated myself. “I know that, Donal. You’re a thousand times the man he is.” I flattened my palm across my belly, where my surgery scars hid beneath my clothes. “But these aren’t the only scars I bear from that time of my life.” I placed my other hand over my heart. “They live here too.”

Donal swung around on the sofa and rested his back against the arm. “I fucking hate what he did to you, but …”

“But?”

He leveled me with his gaze. “But I can’t keep doing this.”

I sucked in a quick gasp. “Doing what?” I asked, my voice small and tremulous.

Donal ran a hand through his hair. “Needing more, all the while knowing you might not be able to give me that.” He flattened his palms on his thighs and pushed awkwardly to his feet. Staring down at me, he continued, “I love you Lauren, and I want to be with you. But I need you to want that too.”

“I do!” I cried, pushing up onto my knees. “I want to be with you all the goddamned time! I’m staying in Ireland an extra week instead of going home to my disabled mother so that I can have more time with you!”

“That’s one week,” he pointed out.

“I asked you to come to L.A. with me,” I argued back.

His lips flattened into a rigid line of annoyance. “You asked me to come for a visit. I told you I’d move there for you.”

“And I told you that’s what I wanted!” I hollered, fisting my hands at my sides.

Why was he doing this to me? To us. Things had been so perfect until he’d pushed me to acknowledge that this could be more. That he could give me the forever I’d always thought was out of reach.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, down over his jaw and then dropped it to his side. “But it’s not. Not really.”

“It is!” I surged to my feet to stand in front of him. “Don’t do this,” I begged.

Donal took a step back. It was only a few inches, but it felt like a million miles. “I offered you forever, and you offered me silence in return.” He walked around the coffee table toward my front door where he his car keys and wallet were sitting in a basket. “I’m going to head home before one of us says something we’ll regret later.”

“I have no regrets where you’re concerned,” I told him, hoping he heard the truth of my statement in the strength of my voice.

“Maybe,” was his answer as he twisted the doorknob in his large hand. Turning to look at me over his shoulder, he added, “I’ll call you later.”

And then he walked out of my apartment, taking all his warmth and love with him.