“Be fair, Jay,” Ash says, looping her arm through his. “They have small kids, and we are pretty obnoxious and loud.”
“You forgot drunk and stoned,” I tease, sinking onto Dillon’s lap while he sits in the recliner chair. Cat and Stephen went to bed when we got back from the pub, so it’s only the eight of us now. I hate to be mean, but the atmosphere is more relaxed when Cat’s asshole boyfriend isn’t around. No one likes him, and I bet Ash is regretting inviting them this weekend.
“Too drunk and stoned to sing?” Jamie inquires, removing his guitar from his case.
“Definitely not.” I’m actually not drunk in the slightest, having paced myself tonight, and I’m only mildly stoned. I purposely stayed relatively sober because I’ve been planning this surprise for a couple of weeks.
“What’s going on?” Dillon asks as I get up to sit beside Jamie. He’s perched on a little ledge in front of the elevated open stone fireplace.
“I’m going to sing for you,” I explain while Jamie strums a few strings on his guitar.
“What song?” Curiosity rings in Dillon’s tone.
“‘She Moves Through the Fair.’”
A slow smile spreads across his mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I return his smile, my heart beating fast. “I know you wanted to hear me sing, and after watching Michael Collins the other week, I knew it had to be this song.” This song speaks about love and loss, and it’s heartachingly beautiful with sentiments we can relate to.
Dillon missed out on the rooftop singalong during the housewarming party we threw back in February—because he was being a dick—but the guys told him I have an amazing voice, and he’s been begging me to sing with them for months. I absolutely refuse to get up on stage, even though a part of me feels an enormous thrill thinking about it. However, my abhorrence of the spotlight overrules any temporary adrenaline rush.
I considered singing at Shane and Fiona’s wedding, but after Dillon serenaded me with his song, I was a pile of goo on the floor and incapable of anything but swooning.
Dillon singing to me that night made me determined to find an opportunity to sing to him, and after we watched the Michael Collins movie with Liam Neeson and Julia Roberts, I knew what I wanted to do.
I wanted to honor Dillon’s Irish roots and his love of the Irish history by learning a traditional Irish song. In the movie, Sinead O’Connor sings a slightly altered version of “She Moves Through the Fair” where the pronouns are altered from female to male to suit the film. Man, she has such a stunning voice, and her rendition is hauntingly beautiful. I could watch the video of her singing it live on stage a million times and never grow bored. Yet, I chose to sing the original version, practicing when Dillon wasn’t around, using a YouTube video performed by a talented singer named Caitlin Grey for guidance. After I had a pretty good grasp of it, I practiced with Jamie. He and Ash gave me some direction until we felt it was perfected.
“Ready?” Jamie asks, and I nod, stuffing my nerves back down my throat. Wiping my clammy hands down the sides of my jean shorts, I clear my throat.
Jamie strums the chords, and I start singing, staring at my boyfriend as the lyrics leave my tongue. My heart swells as my voice soars, and I have everyone’s undivided attention. Passion flows from my mouth as I sing the devastatingly beautiful song, feeling so many emotions as the words embed deep in my soul.
Dillon’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he watches me in raptured awe. Our connection vibrates across the room as we stare at one another, and I see the same overwhelming set of emotions flit across his eyes.
When the song ends, I’m greeted by initial silence, and then a communal round of applause breaks out. My cheeks flush, and my heart is jumping around my chest as Dillon stands, striding toward me with a determined look on his face. His arm extends as he reaches me, and I let him pull me to my feet. With fierce tenderness, he reels me into his embrace, locking his arms around me and burying his face in my hair. My arms automatically wind around his back, and I rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes and fighting tears.
I don’t know how long we stand there, in the middle of the room, wrapped around one another while our friends probably don’t know where to look. Eventually, Dillon tips my head back, and I’m startled to see such raw emotion in his glassy eyes. He stares at me, chest heaving, and I see his love written across his face as plain as day.
Pain presses down on my chest, but I won’t give in to it. I can’t. I don’t want this last special weekend in Ireland to be marred by sadness. I’m not sorry I sang that song even if it has forced both of us to face our reality. Stretching up, I kiss him, and our lips rest against each others’ as we silently speak our truths.
Hours pass, and we sit around the living room, drinking, eating chips and cookies, talking, and laughing, and I never want the night to end. Dillon is cocooned around me, like he’s afraid to let go. I’m cuddled into his side on the reclining chair, unable to untangle my limbs.
Orangey-red streaks paint the sky outside, signaling the start of another day, and we finally depart to our bedrooms except for Ro and his girlfriend. They drew the short straw, so they’re sleeping on the couch.
Dillon stumbles as I lead him up the stairs, and I realize he’s far drunker than usual. Circling my arm around his back, I let him lean on me while I steer him to the room we’re staying in. Dropping him on the bed, I bend down to kiss his brow. “I’m going to grab us some water. Be back in a sec.”
“Stay,” he murmurs, reaching his arm out.
I smile, lifting his palm to my face and pressing a kiss to his skin. “I’ll be right back.”
When I return a few minutes later, he hasn’t moved a muscle. I prop pillows against the headboard and force him to sit up against it. “Drink.” I shove the water in his hand. Kneeling in front of him, I remove his sneakers. Grains of sand fall on the hardwood floor, so I grab a towel from our weekend bag and gently clean his feet.
“You care about me,” he says, but it’s more of a statement than a question.
“I do.” I toss the towel on the floor and pop the button on his jeans.
“I…I care about you too.” He slurs the words a little.
“I know you do, babe.” I brush his messy hair off his brow. “Drink,” I order, tugging at his jeans.
“I need to tell you something,” he croaks, and I stop pulling his jeans down his legs.
“Okay.” I peer into his face, instantly seeing the turmoil there.
“I’m afraid to tell you.”
I gulp over the ball of nerves in my throat, wondering what it is he has to say, instinctively knowing it’s not something I’ll want to hear. I pull his jeans off and tuck his legs under the covers.
“We promised each other honesty, Dillon. If it’s something I need to know, just tell me.” I whip my clothes off and crawl into bed beside him.
His eyes flutter closed before popping open again. “I never planned this. It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he slurs. “Now I’m going to be like the man in that song, driven mad by the loss of the woman he loves.” His head drops back against the headboard, and his eyes close again.
My heart stutters in my chest, and tears well in my eyes. I don’t know if they’re happy or sad ones.
The bottle slips between his fingers, and I grab it in the nick of time.
“Why did he tell me? Why couldn’t it have been like this.” He points a shaky finger between us, as I place his bottle down on my bedside table. “The way it’s meant to be.”
“I don’t understand.” He’s not making any sense.
Dillon slips down under the covers, and I lie on my side, gently wiping the quiet tears falling from his eyes with mounting concern.