Delaney

Coming home wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.

My heart still aches every time I think of Cillian. I see his face in my dreams, and hear his voice in my thoughts. And both my heart and body ache for him constantly.

But I’m stronger now. The weight I’d been carrying my entire life has been lifted. I made my peace with my sister, with her loss, and with my own guilt.

I’ll never regret following her dream to Ireland. Or meeting Cillian.

I don’t know if what I felt for him was…is love. It’s not an emotion that’s measurable. But I know I’ll never be satisfied with anything less than what I had with him.

But I’ve started to fill my time with other things that make me happy.

I registered for a photography class at the college, and I’ve started to hang out with a few of my old friends again. I even got a roommate. And a tattoo.

The roommate was easy. I’ve known Kiersten since the fifth grade. She’s a bit wild, and talks too much, but she’s fun and helps pay the rent. Which is good, because the only job I could get since being home is a barista at the coffee shop a few blocks from my apartment.

The tattoo has harder. Not only because I hate pain, but because I wanted something significant. I ended up designing it myself. Written in white and pink ink across the inside of my left wrist are the words Find Your Happiness. A reminder that it’s a choice – to be happy.

I run my finger across the words and smile.

“I love it,” Kiersten says, peering over my shoulder. “I’ve never seen a white tattoo before. But why get something that’s barely noticeable?”

“It’s for me. I can see it.”

She shrugs and sits on the other end of the couch, placing the pizza box she was carrying between us.

Tonight, we’ve made plans to watch a corny romance movie, eat pizza and ice cream, and finish off the box of white wine in the fridge. Anything to help me not think about Cillian, which has become increasingly more difficult over the past couple of weeks, since his face has been everywhere.

As popular as Wild Irish was over in Ireland, it’s nothing compared to the recent attention they’ve gotten here.

His picture is everywhere. Magazines. Posters. Newspapers. There was a whole article written up in People Magazine about them. I tried not to read it, but Kiersten brought the damn thing home with her. It was sitting on our coffee table for a week before I caved.

I laughed and cried while I read it. It talked about all four of the men. Their strengths, their loves, their favorite foods and colors. The article didn’t dig too deep. It didn’t even mention Owen’s injury. But I assume he recovered fully, since their tour was still scheduled to start soon.

There was a full page devoted to Cillian. The camera loved him. The photo they chose was him with his guitar sitting on a cliff overlooking the ocean, gaze focused on the horizon with his signature brooding look.

I wonder what he was thinking about. If he ever thought of me. Or if Aiden had ever told him about Matt. Did he still hate me, or had he realized he’d been wrong?

My stomach does a somersault when I take a small bite of pizza. I’ll probably never know.

“What do you think?” Kiersten asks, brows drawn up like she expects an answer.

“About what?”

She rolls her eyes. “The concert. Do you want to go? I hear these guys are really good. And they’re hot, too.”

“What concert?”

“Wild Irish. I got two tickets. It’s next Friday night.”

Next Friday.

I just stare at her, blinking.

I knew Chicago was on their tour schedule, but I didn’t realize how soon they’d be here.

“I…” Swallowing past the new lump in my throat, I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

I didn’t tell Kiersten about Cillian. It’s the one thing about the trip I kept to myself. Matt did though. Not that he ever used Cillian’s name, or mentioned the band, but he was quick to let everyone know that I’d gone to Ireland and hooked up with a guy—or multiple guys, depending on who he told.

“Hello?” Kiersten waves her hand in front of my face. “Why the heck not? You said you loved Ireland. I thought you’d love these guys.”

I should just say no. Instead, I give a small nod, regretting it the moment I do.

Kiersten’s face brightens. “Great.”

My stomach twists again, and I pray that my heart will be able to handle seeing him again, even from a distance. But maybe this is exactly what I need for closure. Or maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.