Page 45 of Unreasonably Yours

Toni

I impatiently watch from a crack in my front curtains until David’s ride finally arrives, taking him to whatever midrange hotel he’d be spending his night in.

The moment he’s gone, I call Cillian.

Straight to voicemail.

Nervously, I pace around my apartment, put up the food David and I hadn’t touched, anything to kill a few minutes before trying to call again.

No luck.

By the time the third call goes to voicemail, I’m already getting in my car.

Cillian’s car isn’t in the lot behind Two Sons, but Oliver’s is. Even if Cillian wasn’t here, maybe he knew where I could find him.

The place isn’t too busy, which means I have a clear line of sight to where Lucy and Oliver chat over the bar.

“Hey!” Oliver says as I approach.

Lucy opens one arm, and I let her pull me into her side. “Is Cillian here?” I ask .

The look they exchange speaks volumes. “We thought he was with you,” Oliver says.

I sigh and take the stool beside Lucy. “He came by.” My voice sounds tired. “My ex was there and?—”

“David?” Lucy asks, shocked.

“Yeah, he showed up today. On my fucking porch.” I give them a quick rundown of the shit show.

“What an ass,” Oliver says.

“Understatement,” I agree. “And Cillian came over to ostensibly give me a robe.”

“One of his robes?” Lucy asks.

“To keep?” Oliver adds. Both of them appear comically dumbfounded.

“Yes?”

“He’s very protective of his robes,” Lucy says. “I tried to borrow one for a costume once, and it was a whole negotiation.”

“Oh.” I think back to how, our first night together, he’d offered me a robe as though it was nothing. That ache returns, the absence of him in my life howling.

I clear my throat. “I think he got the wrong idea with David being there and assumed it meant he lost our bet, that I was moving.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Lucy asks.

“No,” I grimace. “We hadn’t been talking—well, he hasn’t been replying to my texts—so I wasn’t sure if he’d care.”

“He cares.” Oliver’s conviction makes me squirm with embarrassment, as though I’d missed something obvious.

“Anyway, I told David to fuck off and tried to call Cillian a few times, but it went straight to voicemail.”

Lucy picks up her phone and dials. “Same. Voicemail.”

I rest my elbows on the bar, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t believe I let him walk away,” I groan. Desperation spreads from my chest throughout my body like a stain. “ I let him think I chose that piece of shit instead of telling him that I?—”

Love him.

The words catch in my throat. The weight of them is too heavy for my tongue.

I’d been doing mental gymnastics for so long, trying to keep those words far from my thoughts. But I didn’t have to think them, much less say them, for the feeling to be there all the same.

I love Cillian. Love him in a way that is so big it feels...Unreasonable.

The revelation almost makes me laugh.

“I need to find him.”

Lucy nods, a knowing smile on her face. “Oliver, is he at the gym?”

“Let me check.” He pulls his phone out, and I hold my breath. “I don’t see him on the cameras but there’s a class going on, so it’s not impossible he’s there somewhere.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Lucy hops off her seat.

I stare at her offered hand. “Lucy, you don’t have?—”

“I know his hidey holes, can navigate without GPS, and have a spare key to his house. We’ll find him faster together.”

Some of the tension I’d been holding leaves me. “Thank you.”

“Keep me posted,” Oliver says.

“Of course,” Lucy assures, ushering me out.

After more than an hour, we’re no closer to finding him than when we started.

We checked his house, the gym, and a few random places Lucy suggested. Nothing. And his phone was still going straight to voicemail .

“We should call Michael,” Lucy says.

My stomach roils at the thought, remembering how concerned he’d been when he couldn’t get in touch with Cillian. The last thing I want is to cause additional stress or animosity. Even though the longer we went without being able to find him, the more my own anxiety starts shrieking.

She makes a few calls but comes up empty. “We’re not far from the house, we can swing by. I doubt he’s there, but just in case.”

“Michael’s house?” I ask, having sworn he and Camille lived in Salem.

“No, Mickey and Kitty’s.”

Great.

We pull up to a small two-story single-family home on a densely packed residential street.

It’s nothing fancy, but it is clearly well-loved.

The tiny garden beside the stoop is trimmed neatly back for winter, and a Christmas tree already glows in the bay window.

It’s the kind of house kids draw; simple yet welcoming.

“Doesn’t look like the boys are here, but we can still check in,” Lucy says as we pull into the drive.

Mickey answers the door, warmth and the smell of something delicious wafting out into the evening air. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Two angels on my doorstep.”

“Who is it, Mick?” Kitty’s voice asks from inside.

He gestures us inside. “Lucy and Toni.”

Kitty holds her phone up. “I just saw your call, Lu. Sorry I missed it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucy waves off her concern.

“Everything alright?” Kitty asks, looking between us.

“Yeah,” Lucy says a bit too brightly. “We were hoping maybe Cillian was here or you guys had talked to him.”

“He’s meant to be working the bar this evening. Is he not there?” Mickey asks, alarm evident .

“He was,” Lucy clarifies. “Oliver came in to cover because he...” She looks at me, unsure of what to say.

I sigh. “He left to come talk to me. We haven’t . . . things have been tense since . . . everything.”

Kitty gives me a knowing nod. “He called me yesterday. We had a good talk, and he seemed ok. Especially after you two musketeers got through to him,” she directs that at Lucy.

“For what it’s worth, he was fine when I saw him. But...” My fuck ass ex-boyfriend was there, isn’t exactly the thing I want to cover with Cillian’s parents. “Our wires got crossed, and he thinks I’m still leaving at the end of December.”

“Ah.” Mickey nods. “He thinks he's losing ya, so he’s running.”

“I just need him to know...” I meet Mickey’s eyes, and I get the feeling he understands that I’m not referring to my zip code remaining the same.

“Where have you looked?” He gestures for us to all sit on the well-worn furniture.

As Lucy rambles off the places we’ve been, Michael calls her back, confirming Cillian wasn’t with him, and we remain at a loss.

Just as fear threatens to swallow me whole, Kitty raises a finger, cutting off whatever Mickey was about to ask. “Have you checked the bridge?”

“Bridge?” Lucy asks, sounding alarmed.

“You know, the salt-and-pepper-shaker bridge. He goes there sometimes to?—”

“Feel grounded,” I finish. Kitty purses her lips to try to restrain her smile but fails. Much like her son, she absolutely lights up the room with her smile.

The bridge crossed my mind earlier, but I’d immediately dismissed it and forgotten about it.

He spoke of it with a kind of reverence that implied it was a place he went to as either a last resort or when something was too big—too life-changing— to hold.

No part of me could fathom that my leaving would qualify as something important enough for him to go there.

Lucy and I pile back into her car, adding Mickey and Kitty to the list of people to update once we hopefully find Cillian.

“How long has the bridge been a thing?” she asks as we make our way through Somerville over into Cambridge.

I shrug. “He said something about his fourth life . . . live?—”

“Alive day,” she says, sounding distant. “First the robe, now this.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

Without warning, Lucy cuts across two lanes of traffic and pulls into a shopping mall parking lot.

“Jesus!” I exclaim as someone honks. “Did you just really need a Starbucks?” I ask, gesturing at the sign.

“First, I’d never choose Starbucks when there’s a Dunks in the same parking lot. Give me some credit. And no.” She sighs, parking the car and turning to face me.

“You’re my friend, and I adore you. But that man is my family.”

“I know.”

She takes my hand in hers. “Good. So you’ll understand why I have to say this before we finish our grand mission.” We both huff a laugh at the dramatics. “Be good to him. Don’t...don’t leave him guessing. If you love him?—”

“I do.” I take a deep breath, as though admitting it removed a weight from my chest. A stupid laugh bursts free, and I can’t help but smile. “And if I can’t find him to tell him to his face within the next thirty minutes, I might snap.”

Lucy beams at me. “Then let’s find your man.”

Mine. I like—no, I love—the idea of Cillian being mine.