He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

by Iris Morland

  “Why would Aunt Siobhan think you’re sleeping with someone?”

  Niamh stared out the window, her face as red as a cherry. “There’s a boy,” she mumbled.

  Of course there was. I should’ve fucking known. I turned my sister toward me and lifted her chin, “Am I going to have to kill somebody, Niamh? Has some boy touched you?”

  “No! Oh my God! It’s not like that. We’ve only gone on a few dates.”

  The puzzle pieces began clicking together inside my brain. “And you did it behind Aunt Siobhan’s back,” I supplied.

  Niamh scowled. “Because it’s a stupid rule that I can’t date. I’m not dumb enough to let a boy ruin my life, but Owen, he’s different. He’s not like that. And I really, really like him.”

  “So you fought over a boy, got mad, and drove here. Why? Did you think I’d pat you on the back for messing around with a boy when you should be focusing on school? I’m not going to support you being an idiot, throwing away your future like this.”

  “I’m not throwing anything away!”

  “You’re not acting like you aren’t.”

  Tears formed in Niamh’s eyes. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t understand. You’re just like Aunt Siobhan. You think you can control me, that you can tell me what I should do with my life. It’s not fair! Why can’t any of you trust me?”

  “Behaving like this? Why should we trust you? You’re acting like a brat, Niamh. Grow up.”

  My sister’s chin trembled. A sob burst from her, and then she stormed off right as Mari emerged from the bathroom. A moment later, the front door slammed closed.

  “What in the world?” said Mari. “Are you going after her?”

  “Why should I when she’s acting like that?”

  “I’m not sure calling her a brat is going to help.”

  I scowled, just like my sister had done a few moments ago. First my sister, now my wife?

  “Then you go after her, if you think you know how to handle her. If she wants to ruin her life, that’s her problem.”

  “You’re both idiots,” Mari muttered right before she went after my sister, leaving me to stew alone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mari

  Running after a teenager wasn’t exactly in my plans this morning, but here I was, on the streets of downtown Seattle, trying to catch up to Niamh.

  Liam hadn’t told me much about his sister beyond her aspirations to get into an Ivy League. He’d said she wanted to study political science and to start a non-profit.

  “Why am I the one doing this?” I said to myself, startling a man walking past me. Liam should be the one here, not me.

  I could see Niamh and her blue hair up ahead, about a block away. I walked faster, almost running when I saw the WALK sign turn on.

  “Niamh! Wait!”

  Niamh glanced over her shoulder, scowled, and walked faster.

  I was considerably taller than Liam’s sister, my legs longer, and luck was on my side when Niamh got caught in a crowd of fanny-pack wearing tourists most likely walking to Pike Market.

  Why anyone would come to Seattle in January, I had no idea. Maybe they were actual masochists. Based on their shorts and sandals, they were either insane or robots who didn’t care about freezing to death.

  Niamh knew when she’d been caught: cars were zooming past on the street, and the crowd took up the entirety of the sidewalk. Her shoulders sagged when I finally got to her.

  “Seriously? Where’s my brother?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “He’s sitting at home, pouting, rather like you’re doing right now.”

  Niamh snorted. “My brother doesn’t pout.”

  “Oh yes he does. You both do. He was making that same face when I left.”

  “Good. I hope he’s crying, too.”

  “You’re probably being too hopeful on that point.”

  A tourist jostled us both. It was cold; the mist was increasing to the point that my hair was going to turn into a total frizz ball. I wasn’t going to attempt a conversation out in the middle of downtown Seattle.

  “Let’s get some coffee,” I said.

  “Don’t you have to go to work? That’s why you and Liam were up so early.” Niamh looked a bit too triumphant, remembering that detail.

  Shit. Well, this was a family emergency, right? Keeping my husband’s sister from running off again?

  “We’re getting coffee,” I said firmly. To my relief, Niamh followed me without protest to the coffee shop across the street.

  After I’d made a quick, apologetic phone call to Leslie, telling her I was going to be late this morning—no, not sure how late, it was a family crisis, I’m so sorry—I bought coffee for both me and Niamh. I also got two giant chocolate croissants, because this was a situation that called for baked goods.

  Niamh slumped in her chair across from me. Now having the time to really study her, I could see how young she was. I knew she was seventeen, of course, but kids her age were rather talented at acting like they were already adults, like I’d said to Liam last night. I remembered that when I was her age I was convinced I knew everything. The adults around me were the ones who were idiots.

  I ate my croissant and drank my coffee, waiting for Niamh to speak first. Having grown up with younger sisters—and considering Kate was only a few years older than Niamh—I knew it was better to let them talk when they wanted to talk.

  And why do you care so much? She’s not going to be your sister-in-law for much longer, my mind whispered. Why get involved?

  Why, indeed. If I looked too closely at the reasons why, I’d probably throw myself into Elliott Bay right this second.

  My phone beeped, alerting me to a text from Liam.

  Where are you two? Did you catch up to Niamh? I’m on my way if you’ll tell me where you are.

  We’re at a cafe. You don’t need to come. I’ll talk to her, I replied.

  The blue dots pulsed on the screen for a long moment, as if Liam wasn’t sure how to respond. Then he finally texted, Thank you. I owe you big time.

  “Was that my brother?” said Niamh.

  “Yes. He’s worried about you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “I figured. I told him to stay home for now.”

  The stubborn set to Niamh’s jaw softened, but not before she narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Who are you, again? I mean, is my brother really dating you? His girlfriends have never cared about me.”

  I wished I could tell her the truth, but Liam had wanted to keep our marriage a secret from his sister. But there was something ridiculous about that fact that I was here because of her, and she didn’t even know. How was that for irony, huh?

  “I’m your brother’s girlfriend,” I said finally.

  “Yeah, I know that. But he’s never had a girlfriend. I mean, not one that sticks around long. He’s never let a woman live with him, either.” Niamh’s gaze sharpened. “Are you knocked up?”

  I choked on my coffee. My eyes streaming, I coughed. To my surprise, Niamh got up and returned with a glass of water.

  “Don’t die on me,” she muttered.

  I drank the water, wiping my eyes. “No, I’m not pregnant,” I croaked.

  “So my brother just likes you?”

  Niamh looked so stumped that I let out a laugh.

  “It seems like that’s the case.”

  “Huh.” She began to pick at her croissant, the pastry flakes getting all over the table. “I think the longest he’s dated any woman was two months. That was a long time ago, though. He’s moved around so much that there was no point to having anything long-term. Or so he always told me.”

  “Are sisters usually this interested in their brothers’ love lives?”

  Niamh screwed up her nose. “I’m not that interested. I don’t need to know the details. But I know Liam. I’ve known him way longer than you. He doesn’t do commitment.”

  My stomach twisted, even though I already
knew that. I knew this thing was just a ploy, a means to an end. But that didn’t help the rock that formed in my stomach.

  I said quietly, “I know.”

  Niamh looked nonplussed. “Well. Okay then.”

  Desperately needing to change the subject, I said, “Liam says you’ve applied to a bunch of Ivy League schools.”

  Niamh looked surprised. “He talks about me?”

  “Of course. You’re his sister.”

  Right then, she looked like a little girl as she said, “He doesn’t act like he cares. I barely see him. Maybe once every six months. And he’s moving away from Seattle when I go to college, anyway.”

  “You’ll be moving away, too, though,” I said gently.

  “I’ll still come back to see my aunt and uncle, and I’d see my brother, too.” Niamh scowled. “Although maybe I won’t go see my aunt and uncle, if they keep acting like assholes.”

  “It sounds like they just want to protect you.”

  “I get that. I’m not stupid. But it’s not fair, because I haven’t done anything for them not to trust me. Aunt Siobhan just assumes that if I so much as look at a boy, I’ll end up pregnant.”

  Niamh crossed her arms, her pose so reminiscent of Liam that my heart ached. “I wanted to get on birth control, and she had a shit-fit. Acted like I was going to murder babies and old people for fun. And when I said it wasn’t even for sex, she didn’t believe me. So now I’m tempted to have sex just to piss her off.”

  “My younger sister Dani had the same issue when she was your age,” I said, remembering the epic fights Dani and my dad had had when she’d wanted to go on birth control. “Her periods were all over the place, but our dad was not okay with the idea. It took our mom to talk him down.”

  I thought back to when I’d come home for the summer after my freshman year of college, and Dani was locked in her room after a huge fight with our dad. He’d caught wind of her idea to go on birth control and had vehemently refused to let her. At the time, I’d thought he was being absolutely ridiculous. Besides, it wasn’t his body. I’d told him as much.

  But now I understood it, to some degree. He’d been scared, and he’d reacted poorly. He had eventually apologized to Dani, although it had taken longer for her to forgive him.

  “Look, I don’t know your aunt or your uncle, of course, but they’ve basically raised you, right? I’m going to guess they’re freaking out, in a general sense.”

  “Why? I haven’t done anything to make them freak.”

  “Besides running away? And I’m gonna guess, dyeing your hair?”

  “Oh, Aunt Siobhan was so mad when she came home and found out I’d done this to my hair.” Niamh fingered the blue strands. “I was grounded for a month, but it was worth it.”

  If I were Niamh’s mother, I’d be losing my mind, too. Teenagers were such terrors.

  “They’re probably also freaking out because you’re growing up. You’re going away for college. Soon they’ll have to let you go out on your own completely. They can’t protect you forever, no matter how much they want to.”

  “They don’t get to dictate my life.”

  I took a deep breath. “I agree.” Niamh shot me a surprised look. “I’m more inclined to agree with you, based on what you’ve told me. But your story is also pretty biased, I’m sure.”

  Niamh stared at me, slowly uncrossing her arms. “You’re on my side? You don’t even know me.”

  “Maybe, but I’ve been in your shoes, in a way. My sisters have been, too.” I put up a finger. “That being said, you can’t run off when you get mad. If you want to be treated like an adult, you’re going to have to act like one. Losing your temper at the drop of a hat is not how you show that.”

  Niamh didn’t have anything to say to that.

  “I’m not a brat, though,” she said quietly. “Liam just doesn’t get it, either. He’s just like Aunt Siobhan.”

  I snorted. “You and your brother are both exactly the same. You react without thinking. If you’d both take a deep breath, you’d probably not end up yelling at each other.”

  Niamh’s lips curled in the first smile I’d seen from her. Even with her hair in a messy ponytail and wearing a sweatshirt and torn jeans, she was lovely. I could see why Liam worried about her: she’d have to fight boys off with a stick, besides the fact that she was so headstrong.

  Then her dark-eyed gaze swiveled toward me, doing that probing thing that Liam was way too good at.

  “You’re not like any of the other girls my brother’s dated, you know.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “Both. Neither.” Niamh shrugged. “For one, he’s never let any of them so much as talk to me, let alone do something like this. That means he trusts you. Liam doesn’t trust anybody.”

  My heart squeezed, but I masked the rush of euphoria with a sip of my latte. Which had gone lukewarm while I was talking.

  “And then last night, he kept looking at you. Like he needed you for something.” Niamh tapped her chin. “It was weird. I kept waiting for him to ask you a question, but he didn’t.”

  “Was he looking at me?” I hadn’t noticed; I’d been too focused on the sudden appearance of his sister.

  “Yeah. He was. A whole lot. But then I couldn’t help but notice that my bedroom is full of your stuff. Not only that, but like someone had been sleeping in the bed recently.” Niamh sipped her own coffee with a faux innocent expression. “Which is weird, don’t you think? For two people supposedly in love?”

  This girl was too smart by half. Or just too observant. I wanted to tell her the truth, but she was Liam’s sister. He’d feel like I’d betrayed his trust—that trust Niamh was sure that I’d already gained—if I blabbed our entire story.

  “We’d been fighting,” I hedged, which wasn’t exactly untrue. “I slept in that room the night before. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve changed the sheets.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  How had she turned the tables on me? Needing to end this subject as soon as possible, I got up from the table. But I did it too quickly: I overset my coffee, spilling it across the table.

  “For the love of God,” I muttered, attempting to grab a bunch of napkins from a nearby dispenser, only to realize it was empty except for a single napkin. I turned to find another dispenser, but I failed to see the woman behind me. I jostled her, her coffee spilling over the side of her mug.

  “Watch it!” the woman said, holding her coffee above her head now. “This is hot!”

  Niamh was giggling, and I was blushing like crazy. Feeling beyond stupid, I managed to find some napkins, cleaned up the mess I’d made, and said to Niamh, “We’re going home.”

  “Probably a good idea. Should I hold your hand? I don’t want you to fall into a manhole or anything,” said Niamh.

  For the first time in my life, I had to restrain myself from giving a teenager the middle finger.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Liam

  I paced the length of my flat while Mari and Niamh were gone. I reconsidered at least twenty times if I should go after them. Niamh was my sister. She’d been my responsibility since the moment she’d been born.

  Yet Mari hadn’t minced words in her texts. Stay home; you’ll make things worse.

  It pissed me off. I wanted to go straight to that cafe and prove Mari wrong. Pull up a chair, plant my arse in it, and force Niamh to talk to me.

  Right as I debated leaving, my phone rang. Thinking it might be Mari, I answered it without looking at the caller ID.

  The voice on the other line, though? Definitely not a woman’s voice. It was a voice I’d only heard a half dozen times in my life, but I’d never forget it.

  “Liam,” said old man Gallagher in that Irish brogue that instantly took me back to my days in Dublin. “How are you?”

  My grandda had called me once before here in the States to tell me I was getting a tiny percentage for my inheritance while Niamh was getting the rest.


  “Did you really call to chat?” I said.

  My grandda chuckled, dry as sandpaper. “You always were a rude lad. No, I didn’t want to chat. I wanted to wish you many happy returns on your marriage.”

  You know that feeling when you can feel shite about to fall on your head but it hasn’t happened quite yet? The ax before it falls on your neck. The step before your foot lands in dog shite. That feeling.

  “I was surprised you didn’t call to tell me you were engaged,” continued old man Gallagher. “I would’ve sent you a gift.”

  “What, a severed head?” I said dryly.

  Old man Gallagher tsked. “Manners. I hope she’s a good Catholic girl.”

  I had no idea if Mari was Catholic or not, which was a strange realization right then. Shouldn’t I know if my wife practiced a particular religion?

  “I hope you make certain you’re married in the eyes of the church. ’Tis important, like.”

  “Or what?”

  “You take everything as a threat, don’t you?” Switching to Gaelic, old man Gallagher added, “I just hope you know what you’re doing. That’s all. Have a lovely day, and tell my granddaughter I said hello.”

  He hung up on me before I could tell him to go to hell. Swearing long and low, I sat down heavily on the couch.

  He knew about my marriage. And if he knew about the marriage, he’d know quickly enough if it wasn’t legitimate. Hell, I should probably look into getting the Church’s blessing just to be safe. My grandda was a kook, but he was a devout one.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to think that hadn’t been a veiled threat. Old man Gallagher was on the scent, and, like a bloodhound, he wouldn’t give up until he had his jaws around my throat.

  Well, as much as a man who only came up to my shoulder could sink his teeth into me. It was like having an evil leprechaun biting at your ankles, except this leprechaun could hurt Niamh way more than he could hurt me.