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“Hopeful is a far cry from confident.”

“If you’re trying to reprise our first meeting, I won’t let you ambush me.”

“Ambush? How?” Niall had lifted his sandwich to his mouth, but set it down again.

“Reminding me of the good times we had in the hope we can start again where we left off. It’s not going to happen. You were unhappy when I arrived that night. I was drunk. We both pretended the elephants in the room were hallucinations. Then, in the morning, we found ourselves in a different country. I’ve told you about my elephant. Why were you unhappy? Were you sabotaging us or just yourself?”

“I convinced myself not telling you about the exhibition was to protect you. You’d feel guilty knowing I’d cancelled,” he said.

“I did.” She bit into her sandwich.

“Then stop. I’ll show you my order book from tonight.” Sharing a simple sandwich with her made finding the words easier for Niall. But no matter how he dressed it up, his answer would hurt her. “The truth is, I was sabotaging us.”

She paled and placed what remained of her sandwich on the serviette. “Why?” Her gaze was shuttered; she was mentally summoning her defences, and he couldn’t blame her.

“I fell in love with—I thought I fell in love with a girl in Ireland. After Da’s death. Unconsciously, I was looking for family and fooled myself into thinking I was in love with her.”

She pushed her glass toward him. “I’m ready for another drink.”

Niall topped off both glasses. She wasn’t drinking any more than she was eating. Glasses were useful props.

“Shewas the person who called you a fuck buddy?” Having Lucy work it out made the next bit easier.

“I asked her to marry me.” Niall had wanted to come home and had mistaken what he’d shared with Sinead for family. “She told me not to be an eejit. That I couldn’t support myself, much less her and a babe. That I’d make more selling sex than my woodwork.” Nausea swirled in Niall’s gut, as comprehension chased confusion across Lucy’s face.

“She treated you like a body, not the lover of her dreams, and she belittled your work.” Lucy’s face scrunched in disgust. “She’s the reason you think so little of yourself and your skills?”

“She said she loved my carpentry, added her mite when I talked of establishing my own business. Right up to the moment she called me a failure.” Niall had been blindsided. And, truth be told, humiliated he’d misread her so badly. “I’d been having my own doubts—most creatives battle doubt on a regular basis—and I wanted to come home. Her plain speaking speeded up my plans.”

“Your Irish girlfriend was wrong about your ability,” she said. Tears he’d put there, shimmered in her eyes. “I have it on the best authority you’re a genius.”

“Whose authority?”I love you.

“Grandpa. He told his lawyer, his accountant and probably some perfect strangers. It’s a pity he forgot to tell me. But I’m starting to understand why he did what he did.”

“He loved you. He said you were the sunshine in his life.”And mine. When the light caught the rich shades in her hair, when she’d danced in steel-capped boots, when she’d given him a sleepy kiss goodbye as he’d slipped from her bed. Niall should have given her the words. “They didn’t know you existed. He told me he had regrets, but finding you wasn’t one of them.”

“What else did he say? Because that’s part of this muddle as well. Your ex-girlfriend—what the hell is her name?”

“Sinead. Sinead O’Brien.”

“You decided you failed Sinead, you failed your father, you failed your brother. Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. You sabotaged our relationship because you doubted your ability as a carpenter?”

“My ability to make a living from bespoke furniture,” he clarified with care. “In my head, the exhibition had become synonymous with being good enough to make a living from my work.”

“You’re leaving half of it out. Sinead tried to diminish you as a man. And I added fuel to that fire.”

“Lovers screw, they make love, and sometimes they go through the motions out of sheer friendliness. They’re overcome by lust, and they’re swamped by feelings too large to manage. We were lovers in every sense of the word, Lucy. One messy roll between the sheets can’t change that.” He leaned toward her. “The honest truth is that I turned away from you because I’d decided that the gap between us was too great. I can’t provide for you.”

“Provide for me?” She stared at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “What the heck does ‘provide’ mean?”

“‘Providing’ was the shared pact among the men in my family. Da always felt he failed because he couldn’t save Mum’s family farm from development. It nagged at him, and I guess it nagged at me. I’ve been holding on to the idea I need to pay the bills.” He dragged a hand through his hair and clasped the back of his neck. “All the bills.”

“Did you hear what you just said? You great, patronising pillock!” She thumped a hand on the table.

“Yeah.”

“What did your mother say to your father?”