Breen kept his hand because he still looked dazzled. “About?”
“Oh, about the party, the music, the cousin thing. That’s a hell of a thing, right?”
So dazzled, Breen noted, he moved from Talamh to Ireland without the slightest reaction.
“It is. He lives in the north?”
“Not right now. He’s in the Capital. Maybe it’s like being stationed there. And we walked down to the beach, and there were Mers swimming and singing, and the moons, and he has wings. Blue wings, like his eyes.”
“He’s of the Sidhe?”
“Yeah, that.”
Bollocks pranced along beside them instead of running ahead. He kept his head cocked, and his eyes on Marco as if taking in every word.
“I was feeling all I was feeling, but I wasn’t sure if it worked the same in Talamh, you know? So I thought I needed to ask rather than screwing it all up by making a move. And he kissed me.”
“You’re killing me, Marco. On the beach, with the Mers, the moons?”
“I know, right? And we just kissed and kissed, and he said we needed to wait until after this stupid battle because stuff. And he’s an artist, and he’s been to Paris. And I think I might be in love. I know I just met him, but I never felt like this. It’s more than the lust haze. It’s more.”
“Then I’m going to love him, too.”
“Maybe I’ll feel different when we’re out of Talamh, back in Ireland.”
“Marco, we’ve been back in Ireland, and we’re nearly back to the cottage.”
“What?” He tried to look everywhere at once in the light Breen had brought to guide their way. “Wow. Jeez. I don’t feel different, so that answers that. He’s going to fight those crazies, Breen. What if something happens to him? What if—”
“Don’t. Don’t think that way. I know it’s hard, but we can’t think that way.”
Fretting now, Marco rubbed a hand over his bracelet. “Can you make him something like this, something like you made me?”
“Yes, and I will. I have everything I need right here in the cottage.”
“I know it’s too late for tomorrow, but when he gets back … Can I help? I know I don’t have the woo-woo, but can I help make it?”
“You can pick the leather and the stones.”
“Thanks. Can we sit out for a few minutes? I just need to settle a little.”
“Sure. Bollocks wants his bedtime swim anyway. We’ll sit, and we’ll have one more glass of wine. I was too busy talking, singing, and dancing to drink very much. And you were too busy getting kissed in the moonslight. We’ll toast those who fight well, stand strong.”
He caught her in a hug as they reached the cottage. “No one ever had a better friend than you.”
* * *
In the morning, Breen got in as much work as possible before she heard Marco in the kitchen. Knowing keeping busy didn’t do away with worry, but could cut it back, she shut down.
He stood at the door with his coffee, looking out at the bay. And thinking, no doubt, of the bay on the other side.
She hugged him from behind.
“Did you eat?”
“I think I’m lovesick. Kills the appetite.”
“Tell you what. I’ll make us a late breakfast.” She went into the kitchen, got a box of cold cereal from the cupboard. “My specialty.”
It made him laugh. “That’ll work.”
“And after we eat, we’ll make Brian’s bracelet.”
“It can wait. I know you want to write.”
“I’m in a good place to stop, and this is priority.”
“Thanks.”
“And when we’re done?” She glanced up as she poured cereal into bowls. “We’ll go over early. We’re going to take that ride—our first ride together—to Dad’s grave. I told Nan last night we’d stop by on the way back, before I have to go train.”
She kept up the chatter as she brought over the bowls, the milk, another bowl with berries. “Let’s have pizza tonight, pop some corn, stream a movie. Then tomorrow’s Finian’s birthday, and I’ve got an idea for a gift.”
“You’re trying to keep me busy.”
“And me, too. I’m worried, too; afraid, too. And … I have powers, Marco, but they’re not enough. They don’t want me in this because I’m not enough yet.”
“I don’t want you in it ever. I guess I don’t get my way on that.”