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“Green’s my favourite colour. I’d almost forgotten in the last few months.”

“We can skip the nursery, if you like?” Niall wasn’t sure what he was offering. A chance for her to absorb the serenity to be had in a tiny garden, or a chance to avoid facing the prospect of new life so soon after her loss? Life followed death, but sometimes the reminders were too raw.

She stiffened, and he’d missed his chance of having her confide in him. Maybe she was regretting how much she’s told him on her gran’s birthday. Maybe she’d decided liking was enough—no deep and meaningful disclosures. If they’d taken each other to bed on Monday, he’d probably still be there. His hunger for her was more complicated than lust. Instead, he’d channelled his frustration into preparing the pieces for one of his Shanker-style sideboards.

“I’d love to see the nursery.”

Right! That’s why her face was twisted like she’d sucked an especially sour lemon.

Pushing open the nursery door, Niall flicked on lights, standing back to let her precede him. Poised in the doorway, she seemed to have some sort of mental tussle with herself, before entering the light, airy space. He sensed she was afraid, although he couldn’t pinpoint a source. Had she lost a sibling or, his heart stalled, a child of her own?

“They’re tirelessly boring on the subject of paint colours, mobiles, the rights of their daughter to grow up free to wield a hammer, while their son writes romance.”

She moved further into the room. “Sounds like they’re the kind of people who should be parents.” Then she was across the room in seconds, her hand raised above the cradle. When she stroked her index finger gently over the wood, his body hummed in response.

“This is yours, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He pushed his hands in his pockets.

“It’s stunning.” She pivoted to face him. “Why are you making frames and restoring furniture when you can do this?” She lifted her hands and let them drop. “When you can create the magic hidden in your storage vault? It’s a waste of your skills.”

The passion in her accusation skittled him. She stood with a hand on his cradle, a tactile connection making it impossible to ignore her challenge. His mind shuffled through a slideshow of images. She didn’t touch any of the pieces he was restoring with the same reverence. On the few times she picked up a frame to move it out of the way, she’d handled it with care, but not the veneration she reserved for his pieces.

Niall could trot out the glib answer he gave acquaintances, but prevaricating would be an insult to her intelligence, and whatever kind of relationship they might forge beyond friendship. “My da died just after I moved to Ireland to start my mentorship.”

“That sounds sudden.” She’d lived the disorientation of sudden death.

“A massive heart attack. I came back for about a week. Then Liam and Mum bundled me onto the plane to Ireland and my mentorship before I knew if I was on my arse or my ear.” He’d been punch-drunk, unable to find his balance. “Said Da would have been devastated if I’d chucked it in.”

“Were they right?” she asked, and in his guilt, Niall had never considered the question.

“Da was a carpenter, taught me how to hold my first hammer.” He grimaced. Having organised the funeral, Liam was ahead of him in processing what was happening, whereas Niall hadn’t known what day it was. Niall had let Liam make the decisions for him. “But he was an eco-warrior as well, which is why Liam gravitated to environmental law.”

“Were they right?”

“Yeah.” The admission released something in him. “And, at the time, while Liam and I knew we could never fill the gap he’d left behind, we thought he’d died with enough assets to keep Mum safe. That we’d continue with the careers we’d chosen.” Niall had let himself be feted as the new kid on the block in Ireland, filling his days with work and his nights with parties to deaden the creeping emptiness in his gut.

“What happened?” She took the seat beside the cradle, her hand still resting on the wood, still daring him to confront his past.

“Within weeks Liam discovered Da was bankrupt and Mum might lose the house. But he kept it to himself.”

“Why?” she persisted, as if his family’s determination was something he needed to confront along with other truths.

He recoiled at the slap. “What the feck does ‘why’ matter?” Although he and Liam had different answers.

“Because the ‘why’ is the reason you haven’t made peace with yourself.” She nudged the cradle, and her touch reverberated in his bones.

“For complicated reasons, his job went pear-shaped. He walked away from environmental law. When I finally prised it out of the eejit, he said his dream was dead, mine was the only one left, and he and Mum needed to dream.”

“Why can’t you believe him?” Her beautiful green-brown eyes held sympathy.

“Because it caused a rift between us.” He stopped mid-pace and glared at her. “He got a corporate law job that turned him into a soulless robot, had him working all hours of the day and night. He wouldn’t talk to me in case he let something slip and I decided to leave Ireland early.”

“So, your dream became a burden.”

“No.” She voiced a blasphemy Niall had never admitted. “In part. I knew something wasn’t right. And I only made a half-arsed effort to find out what was wrong, because I didn’t want to come home.”

“And you can’t forgive yourself for that.” She rose to her feet and walked toward him. Having her close enough to hold was a blessing he didn’t deserve.