Page 87 of Unrequited

“Do you have one here, in Ballyhock?”

“No.”

He starts listing the places they do have. His voice goes soft with familiarity; he knows every corner, every person behind every counter. It draws something from me.

“Aye, well, there’s a place called the Ice Cream Shoppe,” he starts. “Self-explanatory. And there’s coffee… let’s see. Let me tell you about Ballyhock.”

Time halts again, a little.

“I’m eager to get to the actual city,” I tell him.

“So we have a place called the Cottage Brew, right? Cozy coffee. Soda bread. Then there’s The Blimey Pub, which kinda speaks for itself. Do you like Guinness?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never had one.”

“Wait,what?You’ve never had a fucking Guinness?” he says, utterly baffled, like I’ve just confessed a mortal sin.

I laugh softly.

“We’ll fix that, love, we will.”

“My brothers didn’t really like me drinking,” I confess.

He laughs, shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “They practically wean us on Guinness in our bottles.”

I laugh as he continues.

“There’s ice cream there now. Gelato. We’re getting fancy, thanks to the Italians. D’Agostino owns the Italian shop. And there’s this place called The Cheeky Mackerel Coastal Eatery. But no bakery. Not yet.” He pauses.

“Do you want to open one?” he asks. “Like Anya.”

The mention of her hits strange… two worlds colliding.

I think about Anya’s bakery, the one that’s nearly caused war between rival factions, because location is everything.

“Do you want to open a bakery?” he repeats.

I hesitate. “I don’t know. Give me time, please.”

Because it feels like betrayal. Leaving my family. Marrying Seamus. Starting over with flour-dusted dreams and a storefront window.

I don’t say all that, just keep it tucked inside.

“You want me to open a bakery in the middle of a feud?”

He shrugs. It’s slow and deliberate.

“I’ve seen stranger things.” Then he leans back.

The light catches his jaw, the faint stubble there. He’s not smiling, not exactly, but his face is softer than I’ve ever seen. If I reached out, I think he’d welcome it.

“Did you ever want anything silly?” I ask.

He looks away, and his jaw tightens.

“Yeah,” he says. “Peace.”

That silences me. Not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s real.