Padraig wiped up the counter with a vengeance as he replayed everything that had happened yesterday. The visit to Dr. Richards hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped.

Somewhere between Friday night and Tuesday afternoon, he’d convinced himself the doctor had been wrong. He’d imagined walking into that office and discovering that Mia had misunderstood some part of the diagnosis and cure. He’d been convinced there was something that could save her. After all, modern medicine was finding cures to diseases every day, discovering new ways to perform surgery, so how could there still be such a thing as an inoperable brain tumor?

She was too young, too healthy, too…well, she was too great to die.

So he’d convinced himself it had all been some big mistake. When Dr. Richards confirmed that Mia’s hearing and understanding were just fine, he’d latched on to the next piece of hope—the second opinion.

Dr. Richards agreed to send Mia’s records to the specialist his mom knew, but last night, after they’d dropped Mia off at her apartment, his mom had come back to the pub with him, joined him at the bar for a Guinness, and warned him not to get his hopes up in that very gentle voice she used when she knew he was destined for disappointment.

Since then, he’d been walking around in a state of rage, barking at anyone who got in his way.

“You’re not answering your phone. You keep sending me to voicemail.”

He looked up at Kelli and scowled. She’d called a few times since Saturday, but he’d ignored her. Part of him was afraid she’d call him a fool for his determination to marry Mia.

No, he wasn’t afraid of her telling him that. He was more afraid of realizing she was right.

He’d lived his entire life under a lucky star, more often than not, finding a way to get anything he wanted. It didn’t look like that was going to happen this time—and he was pissed as fuck.

“Wow.” Kelli sat down at the bar. “Who peed in your cornflakes?”

“I didn’t answer the phone because I’m not in the mood to chitchat.”

“Yeah,” Kelli said, not taking heed of the dark tone in his voice. “I can see that. So…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled, turning away from her.

“Try again.”

“Goddammit, Kell. Why can’t you catch a fucking clue?”

“Is it that Brooke woman? Did she dump you? Want me to go kick her ass?”

Kelli had been his friend too many years to be afraid of his foul moods. He’d foolishly told Mia this was the kind of relationship he wanted with her. Now he was reconsidering. There was something to be said about the ability to scare people away. “It’s not Brooke.”

“Yeah. I didn’t think you were that into her. So what is it? You and Colm in a fight?”

He shook his head. Her guessing was wearing him out. It was also diffusing his fury. “No. We’re fine.”

“Well, I know it’s not the Caps because they won last night. And I know it’s not me, because I’m fucking awesome, so I give up. Why are you being a dick?”

His shoulders slumped, resignation creeping in. He sort of preferred the rage. “I just got some bad news about a friend.”

Kelli frowned. “Oh man. I’m sorry. What happened?”

“One of our regulars.” He paused. Calling Mia a regular felt wrong. Like he was downplaying who she was. “A friend of mine has been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. She’s dying.”

“Shit,” Kelli whispered. “Who?”

“Her name is Mia Curtis. She usually sits—”

Kelli cut him off, pointing toward Mia’s usual spot. “Oh my God! The redhead from Chicago?”

He nodded, stunned. “How the hell do you know who she is?” Kelli was also a regular at the pub, but she typically sat at a table with his cousins or her friends from work.

Kelli Peterson was Mia’s complete opposite when it came to social circles. Mia’s were small—practically nonexistent—while Kelli seemed to know and like every single person in the city.

“She was always here on competition nights when February Stars was going on. I was standing next to her one night, waiting for your slow ass to fix me a drink, and we started talking.” Kelli gave him a wicked grin and wiggled her eyebrows. “We hung out once or twice during the shows after that. Damn. I really like her.”

He rolled his eyes and imagined their conversations. “Let me guess, you were both going on and on about how fine Hunter’s ass is. You’re going to have to rein in that lust whenever Ailis is around.”

“Why?” Kelli asked. “Ailis and I have had countless discussions about Hunter’s ass, and she agrees with me. Anyway, Mia and I only chatted a couple times—I don’t even think I told her my name, and only knew hers because you said it when you brought her a drink. And we didn’t chat about Hunter. It was about you.”

“Me?”

“The first time, you were in the midst of some big debate with Finn, regarding the odds on all the bets being placed on the competition. I think she thought the two of you were fighting, and she was worried. I explained that trash talk and gambling were part of the Collins family fabric, and you were essentially a dopey, oversized puppy dog who wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

Padraig blew out an annoyed breath. “Thanks a lot. You go on and on about Hunter’s fine ass and all I get is dopey, oversized puppy dog. You suck as a wingman. Which is why Colm will remain best man in my wedding.”

Kelli had been begging Padraig to drop his twin like a bad habit when he finally decided to get married, volunteering to stand in as best woman. They’d teased each other about it for years, Padraig holding it over her head every time she annoyed him.

“How was I supposed to know you were interested? Last I heard, the new girl’s name was Brooke. I didn’t realize you and Mia even knew each other that well.”

They didn’t. And yet, somehow Padraig was starting to feel like he knew Mia better than anyone.

Mia had remained calm throughout the visit with the doctor, finding a strength he knew he’d never possess. She asked good questions, listened intently to the answers and, throughout all of it, never fell apart. Not even when they were back in the car.

Instead, she and his mom chatted about Dr. Richards’ responses and the specialist. When they got back to her place, she thanked them for going with her and told them she was going to have to take some time to consider her options.

Options. The moment she’d said the word, Padraig’s anger sparked.

What fucking options?

Die in six months without treatment or die in eight to ten months with needles in your arm and poison creeping through your veins.

“Jesus. There’s that murderous gleam in your eyes again. You should hit the gym. Or more specifically, the heavy bag. You keep this kind of aggression pent up much longer and you’ll explode.”

He nodded slowly. Padraig belonged to a boxing club, but getting into a ring with a living, breathing human being would only ensure he hurt someone. The heavy bag was a good call.

“Yeah. I’ll do that later.”

“So, Mia…” Kelli prompted, still waiting to hear why he was so upset about someone he hadn’t even really known a week earlier.

“We’ve been talking a lot since Friday,” he explained. “She has a bucket list.”

Kelli’s expression softened. “How long does she have?”

“Six months or so.”

“Shit,” Kelli whispered again. Padraig wasn’t surprised by the tears he saw gathering in her eyes. Kelli, for all her tough exterior, was pure marshmallow inside.

“Yeah. I’m going to help her chisel away at everything on that list, make sure she doesn’t die with any regrets.”

“I think that’s awesome, Paddy. To tell you the truth, if it was me, and I only had months to live, there’s no one else I’d rather spend that time with.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. Their friendship—while tight—was based more on playful insults and putdowns. Compliments were few and far between. Primarily because they both got embarrassed whenever the other said anything nice. Sarcasm was their first language, English a distant second.

Before last week, he would have teased her for the kindness, found a way to twist it back to humor. Today, the words sank bone-deep, gave him a glimpse of hope again.

Maybe the hope wasn’t going to be found in a cure. Maybe it was going to come from something else.

“Thanks, Kell. I needed to hear that.”

She flushed and shrugged. “My primary purpose in life is to keep you grounded and humble. And believe me, I find that easier than building you up in weak moments, so you’re gonna have to get your shit together, okay? Mia needs a friend who isn’t walking around like a bear with a thorn in his paw.”

“Yeah. I guess she does.” But it was starting to occur to him that maybe he needed Mia too. She’d opened his eyes to some hard truths about the way he was living his own life. With youth came an erroneous but unwavering belief in immortality. Nothing was certain, yet he’d meandered through his own adult life like he had all the time in the world.

And he’d spent the last decade hanging out behind this bar, waiting for life to come to him.

What an idiot.

He took a deep breath. “One of the things on her list is to get married.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. You’re going to propose?”

“Yeah. I think I am. Not right away. God, she’d think I was crazy and turn me down if I asked now. We hardly know each other. But her list…”

“Got you thinking, huh?”

“You and I are both thirty-one, Kell. I keep waiting for this ‘a-ha’ moment where I’m instantly grown up. Then another year passes and I’m still living above the family pub. I look at Mia and I see the chance to do something real. Something that matters. Not just to her, but to me.”

Kelli fell silent, something that didn’t happen often. Usually her mouth was moving before her brain, so the fact that she was thinking about her next comment was all the warning he needed.

This was why he’d avoided her calls. She was too damn good at giving voice to the warning bells in his own head that he often ignored.

“She’s dying, Paddy.”

He winced. Hearing those words kept getting harder.

“I understand that you want to get married. Hell, I do too. But there’s really only one reason to get married that’s acceptable in my mind. And that’s love. Take the next few months and work your way through this bucket list. Get to know her and let her get to know you. All of that is fine. But if you’re serious about your intentions, in addition to that, you have to do something else, something that’s harder.”

“What?”

“You have to open up your heart to her, Paddy. Don’t be afraid to let yourself fall in love with her if that’s where it’s heading. You’ve spent most of your adult life looking for the perfect relationship, something like what your mom and dad have. And I’ve gotta give you props. You’re always giving it the college try. But proposing to this woman because it’s on her bucket list and she’s dying is fucking cheating. She doesn’t deserve that. Of course, I think you already know that. It’s why you’ve been avoiding my calls.”

“You always go for the jugular.” There was no heat behind his words…because she was right. And he appreciated the fact she cared enough to always tell him the truths he didn’t want to hear.

“Yeah, well, you’ve left me bleeding a few times too. And as much as it pains me to admit it, you were always right to give me the jab.”

“She doesn’t call it her bucket list. She thinks of it as a list of regrets, of things she’ll never accomplish.”

“And that’s eating your inner Boy Scout alive. You’re a giver, Paddy. You always have been. But life is a pretty solid yin and yang. Light and darkness. Love and hate. Satisfaction and regret. You can’t cure her, but you can be her friend. You can help her through the next few months, even if that means you only help her achieve some of the things on her list.”

“What if I do fall in love with her?”

He hadn’t meant to ask that question, to give that idea a voice. But the more time he spent with Mia, the more he started to believe he was in definite danger of falling for her.

“Then you’ll tie the knot. And I’ll be there with bells on.”

He grinned, finding the opening he needed to return them to normal. “Damn, Kell. Bells could be a bit loud.”

“Tell you what. If you, my dearest and oldest—though somewhat dim-witted—best friend since second grade, fall for this woman, I’ll perform the ceremony.”

Padraig chuckled, the sound feeling downright rusty. “Kelli—”

“You pretty much have to let me. Since you insist on giving Colm the gig of best man, it’s either he and I engage in a fight to the death, or you let me be the officiant. I kind of like the idea of coming up with your vows for you. Speaks to the power-hungry bitch inside me.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Excellent. Okay, I’m off. Gotta work the book fair at the library tonight.”

Try as he may, Padraig always struggled to picture his best friend as a kindergarten teacher. It wasn’t that she wasn’t great with kids. She was. But more often than not, the Kelli he saw was showing off her tattoos in tight tank tops, cussing like a sailor and kicking his ass at flip cup.

“And for future reference, if you’re hoping to avoid me, the surest way to fail at that is to ignore my phone calls.”

He saluted. “So noted.”

Kelli started toward the door, but it took her a full ten minutes to leave the pub because she stopped at no less than three tables to talk.

There was obviously a reason why she was his best friend. She could always cheer him up.

He filled a few more drink orders, then called in one of the part-time bartenders. Pretty soon, if he kept skipping out on shifts, he was going to owe everyone in the pub favors.

Once his replacement arrived, he headed over to Sunday’s Side. His parents were enjoying a quiet dinner together. He grabbed the seat across the booth from them.

“Where are you headed off to?” his dad asked. “Who’s manning the bar?”

“Called Joel in to work. I’m going to pop over to Mia’s to check on her. I wanted to talk to you about the schedule, Dad.”

“Okay.”

“I’d like to take some time off.”

His mother smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “I think that’s a good idea, Paddy. You started working at the pub in high school, and while Colm has taken some vacations, traveled and seen a bit of the world, you never really have. It’s a good time to widen your borders, see how others live.”

He nodded, glad his mom was so supportive. “Mia wants to see Paris. And Harry Potter World.”

Tris laughed. “I can see Mia wanting to visit Paris, but are you sure Harry Potter was her idea?”

Padraig grinned. “I’m not going to pretend that part of the trip will be a hardship. You know how much I love theme parks and roller coasters. Add in a trip to Hogwarts and I’ll be in hog heaven.”

“Take the time, son. It’ll be good for Mia and you.”

Padraig stood, thanking his dad. Before he made it two steps from the table, his dad said, “I’m proud of you, Paddy.”

Padraig nodded, choking down yet another emotion. He was on a roll today. First anger, then amusement and now this. “Enjoy your dinner.”

He threw on his coat and headed for Mia’s apartment. She wasn’t expecting him, but even so, he didn’t text or call to warn her that he was on his way.

He was afraid to. Afraid she’d succumbed to the same depression that had swallowed her the past weekend and she’d tell him not to come. He was finding it harder and harder to stay away, to leave her alone for any amount of time at all.

When he stood outside her door, he paused, surprised by the sound of music. Listening closely, he was certain he could hear her singing along. He smiled as he listened to her belting out Adele. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was about that woman’s songs that made most women he knew stop everything and fly into Whitney Houston mode, singing like their lives depended on it.

He knocked.

Mia obviously hadn’t given in to depression again. She was in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Hey, Padraig. What are you doing here? I thought you had work.”

He glanced over her shoulder. She was clearly spring-cleaning. The vacuum was out and every piece of furniture was gleaming.

“Expecting company?” That was pretty much the only reason he and his cousins ever went into this kind of deep-cleaning mode.

“No. My grandma used to call this nesting. Woke up this morning and thought I’d better take some time to get my shit together.” She walked over to the coffee table and picked up a notepad. “I’ve been making a list of things I need to take care of. I don’t have a will, which isn’t really a big deal considering I don’t own anything. But I need to figure out funeral arrangements and stuff like that.”

Her tone as she spoke about planning her own funeral was too matter-of-fact. He’d heard people talk about the weather with more emotion. It didn’t help that hearing her mention wills and funerals made him want to throw up.

Padraig took the notepad away from her and flipped the page. “I’m glad you’re in the mood to make plans, because that’s why I’m here.”

She narrowed her eyes. He hadn’t brought up his intention to tackle her bucket list since Monday night, but it was clear she hadn’t forgotten. Or changed her mind. “Padraig, I don’t think—”

“You have a laptop?”

She nodded.

“Good. Grab it. Time to do some research. Book a couple flights.”

“Padraig. What about Brooke? How is she going to feel about you running off with some other woman to a foreign country?”

He lifted one shoulder casually. “I called her Saturday. Told her I couldn’t see her anymore.”

She gasped. “Call her back! You like her. There’s no way I’d screw that up for you.”

“No. I’m not calling her back. She was fine, Mia. The two of us weren’t serious. She hadn’t met my family, and to be perfectly honest, I hadn’t even gotten past second base.”

“Which base is second again?”

He laughed but ignored her question, getting straight to the heart of things. “I haven’t taken a real vacation since high school graduation, and before that, it was just trips to the river, beach, or amusement parks with my folks and brother. So really, when you think about it, I’m doing this as much for me as you.”

“Do you have a passport?”

He nodded. “Got one a year or so ago. Colm and I have this pipe dream that one day we’ll take Pop Pop back to Ireland.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Yeah. We’d really like to see where he grew up. Not sure it’ll ever happen, but I wanted to have my passport just in case.”

She didn’t move to grab the laptop, and he realized he’d made an assumption about something she hadn’t mentioned yet.

“If you want to stay here and start the chemo, Mia, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not doing that.”

She had said as much yesterday. He understood her reasoning, but her hesitance made him wonder if she’d reconsidered. Dr. Richards had suggested a very powerful dose of chemotherapy, one that would certainly make her sick. One that would cause her hair to fall out. And in the end, Dr. Richards said it would only buy her months, not years.

Mia insisted quality won out over quantity.

“Will you be able to take some time off to travel? I know you’re in a new position.”

Mia’s eyes got misty as she nodded. “I called Phyllis last night and explained what was happening. I wasn’t sure what to do about work. She told me to take some time off to get my affairs in order. She wouldn’t let me quit because she said she’s not about to leave me without health insurance.”

“I like Phyllis.”

Mia smiled. “Me too.”

“If you’re hesitating because of money—” He had some, and Aunt Teagan called him from New York on Tuesday morning to assure him that she and Sky would pay for Paris if he and Mia didn’t have enough. At the time, he’d been amused by how quickly word had spread in his family, still riding the “she’s not really dying” high. Now he was determined to make sure nothing stood in their way.

“I’m not,” she said. “I inherited some money from my grandma, and one of the benefits of having very little social life includes the ability to stash away money from my paycheck each month.”

“We’re taking the trip, Mia.”

He expected her to continue to resist, but when she sat down and pulled her laptop out of its case, he hooted.

Her funeral list was forgotten as they spent the next four hours planning her dream trips to Florida and France.