“I know it’s not my fault!” I slam my fist down on the railing, turning to face him. “It’s got nothing to do with that, don’t you see?”
“Sure, lad.” Niall looks at me pityingly. “You’ve got it bad for the lass. Any man with eyes can see that. But who’s to say you can’t feel the same for Saoirse? She’s beautiful. A true Irish rose, made for you in every way. Raised to be the wife of a man like you—”
“Oh fuck off.” I shake my head, turning away again. “I’d half think you were carrying a torch for her, the way you carry on.”
Niall goes quiet, and I hear the flick of the lighter as he lights another cigarette. “Saoirse is no lass for me,” he finally says in a low tone. “She’s an O’Sullivan, aye, and meant for a man of good birth and money. She’d never sully herself with the likes of me, and I’d be ashamed to let her do so.”
I glance over at him then, surprised. His expression is pensive, and I realize then what I should have realized before, that my right-hand man is pushing me towards a woman that he himself has, perhaps, the same sorts of feelings for that I have for Ana.
But of course, he’s right. A man like Niall and a woman like Saoirse would be like oil and water, from two entirely different walks of life. Not to mention her father would be as likely to pitch her off the roof of their mansion as see her marry a man like Niall. And besides, it would cause no end of trouble among the families, even threatening my position.
“You’d best go ahead with it,” Niall says quietly. “Come back to Boston, man, and sign the contract. Stop putting off what ya know must be done. There’s no getting around it, and ye’d be a fool not to.”
His Gaelic accent is thickening as he speaks, a clear sign that he’s growing irritated with me, and truth be told, I can hardly blame him. But I’m angry too—angry with him for pushing me, at my father for being a traitorous bastard who pushed me into this position in the first place, at my brother for being gone.
“Go back to Boston yourself,” I say sharply, turning away. “I’ll call you when I have news. Until then, don’t bother me again.”
“Liam—”
“Go!” I don’t look at him, though I know deep down I’m only hurting one of the few people left who still care for me. “That’s an order, Niall. Or would you disobey me, too?”
There’s a moment of silence, and then I see Niall flick what remains of his second cigarette, turning away from me as well. “Of course not,” he says quietly. “Ní ghéillim ach do d'ordú.”
I obey only your command.
His footsteps recede into the distance, leaving me alone with my thoughts again, on the balcony with only the warm breeze of early summer to keep me company. I should go back inside, I know, but I don’t want to just yet. I want to stay out here a little longer, with the silence and the thoughts of Ana that both tear at me and bring me a sense of purpose.
The sound of a door opening and footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts, and I tense, clenching my jaw with irritation. “Niall, I thought I told you--”
“It’s not Niall,” a woman says, and for one insane moment, I think that it’s Ana, and she has come back and that she’s found me out here.
But then I turn, and see that it’s Sofia.