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  Kieran seems to contemplate that for a moment. It’s a lot to take in, and I know it probably sounds strange to most people, but I’ve seen the advantages firsthand. “But you do actually…cuddle people? And get paid for it? Is it weird accepting money from someone you’ve just snuggled?”

  There’s no judgment in Kieran’s voice. His face is open and curious, like he genuinely wants to know. Normally, I hate being asked about this; I’ve had people look at me like I’m taking advantage, especially since many of my clients struggle with mental health issues or are just plain lonely. But if someone is on the HTC site, they’ve been referred and have accepted the terms of condition, so they know going in they’re paying for a companion. “Yes and no,” I say. “I hated it at first. I figured I’d donate my time, take on a few people here and there, but my advisor told me I had to start thinking of people as clients who were paying me for a service. I have bills to pay just like everyone else.”

  “Makes sense,” he says, bobbing his head. “What about the cozying up to strangers bit? Does that ever get uncomfortable?”

  I make a non-committal noise and tilt my head back and forth. “Again, yes and no. Initially it can be kind of awkward, but we both know what we’re getting into from the get-go. For a lot of people, I’m just a body, another heartbeat, and my presence provides comfort.” I think back to a client I had a month or so after I started working for HTC, and a small smile makes my lips twitch. “One time I had this big, burly football player. I was afraid of two things: that he’d break me in half or he’d be this dude-bro jock, making inappropriate comments and trying to cop a feel. We sat together on this tiny loveseat that was barely big enough for him, let alone both of us, and he cradled me like I was the most precious thing in the world. It was a humbling lesson in how we make snap judgments about people. He just needed comfort. All of us need that sometimes.”

  “Mm.” Kieran nods again, slower this time. “All of us.” He drops his gaze to his tea, and the way he goes still and silent makes me do the same. I wait patiently, sensing he’s about to open up. “My home wasn’t a warm, loving one. My dad was like a drill sergeant, and my mum was raised with the belief it was a woman’s duty to get married, stay at home with the children, and do as her husband commanded. If she showed us affection, she was ‘coddling’ us. If she let us get away with anything it was because she was ‘too soft’ and my dad would double down on our punishments as a way to punish her.”

  “God, Kieran, I’m so sorry.” I’m sure I’m doing a terrible job at schooling my face now. In comparison to his, my home life growing up was rainbows and unicorns. My mom was affectionate and loving, rarely raised her voice, and provided a safe, loving environment from the very beginning.

  He lifts a shoulder. One side of his mouth rises in unison, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s how it was.”

  “You have brothers and sisters?” I ask.

  “Mm, one of each, both older. My sister works for our dad in the family business—real estate investments and development in and around Dublin—and my brother is a barrister. I was born considerably later and have always been different, always wanted to do my own thing. I got into a bit of trouble in my teens, nothing too serious, but they held it against me and assumed I’d always be a screw-up. I moved out on my own at seventeen and worked various odd jobs until I was hired by an architect of all things.”

  He gives his head a little shake as if the fact still surprises him. “I was basically an errand boy until one day I was in his office while he was going over the books. I peered over his shoulder and pointed out where he could be saving money. Turns out I’ve a head for numbers and didn’t realize it during my school days.”

  “So how’d you get from there to going to school in Canada?” I pick up my mug to take a sip, but I’ve drained my hot chocolate without realizing it. Kieran finishes his tea and catches Darryl’s attention, motioning to our mugs and holding up two fingers.

  “Well, I quickly learned real life isn’t like the movies. The bossman didn’t suddenly hand over all this new responsibility and groom me to someday take over the business.” He pauses when Darryl arrives with our drinks, shooting him a quick smile and nod of thanks before returning his attention to me. “He did sort of take me under his wing, though. I was still largely a gopher, but he let me sit in on a few meetings and conference calls. Asked my opinion about projects and showed me some of his plans. Around the same time, I had a friend going to school here, and he loved it. I kept seeing ads for it and began thinking the universe was pointing me toward Loyola and a diploma so I wouldn’t be stuck as an errand boy for the rest of my life.”

  I smile, as I always do whenever someone mentions the universe. I grew up believing in that stuff because my mom did. My friends have always indulged me when I talk about signs and things happening for a reason and other ‘woo-woo stuff’ as they affectionately call it. It’s been harder to believe any of it over the last year, though. I can’t believe my mom’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis and quick decline were meant to happen. Before her memory was gone for good, she told me to never lose faith, but it’s been a struggle.

  I give myself a mental shake. “Aren’t there colleges in Ireland?” I ask, hoping I’ve achieved a teasing tone even though my throat is suddenly dry.

  He chuckles. “Of course. I mentioned it to my boss, and he thought it’d be a good idea for me to get out of Ireland. See more of the world, have some new experiences. Experiences far away from the shadow my dad and his business cast. He helped me apply for the Architectural Technology and Design program, along with scholarships, and now here I am.”

  “Here you are. Very impressive, Kieran.”

  His lips curve upward and he gives another little shrug. I expect him to say something modest, but instead he says, “I know, right?”

  I burst out laughing, jostling the table in the process and making my hot chocolate slosh over the rim of the mug. Kieran’s laughter joins mine as he grabs a handful of napkins from the dispenser to mop up the spill. Darryl comes by with a wet cloth and wipes the table down for us while we hold our mugs aloft.

  After he’s gone, Kieran leans back in his chair, a smile flirting around his eyes and mouth. “You’re like a ray of sunshine, you know that, Meredith?”

  My heart lurches. My mom always used to say that to me. In fact, for as long as I can remember, her nickname for me was Sunshine Girl. I blink rapidly and paste a smile on, hoping it looks more genuine than it feels.

  He leans across the table and places his hand over mine where it rests beside my mug. I’ve given enough comforting touches in the last year to know that’s what this is. Nothing more. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, not at all. Just…stirred up an old memory.” I clear my throat and drop my gaze to his long, slim fingers covering the back of my hand. Several blue and black ink splotches stain his skin. “So…next week. What can I expect?”

  Kieran removes his hand and reclines in his seat again. As we finish our second round of drinks, he tells me we’ll be meeting with his parents, Eamon and Maeve. He tells me a bit about his dad’s business, fills me in on a few more details about his childhood, and describes his living situation and the courses he’s taking. By the time he’s given me the run-down, I feel comfortable enough to tell him I work here—“Here? Truly? Were you an elf when it was Santa’s Village?”—and give him a few other particulars about my life that might come up.

  We’ve just stepped outside the café when Kieran blurts, “I wasn’t entirely honest about something when I emailed you the other night.”

  My stomach drops. Things were going so well and I felt as if I could genuinely like Kieran. I’m not often wrong, and I hate being wrong. Not bothering to disguise the sigh that escapes me, I pull Kieran to the side of the building so we’re out of the way of foot traffic. “What weren’t you honest about?”

  “I told you I didn’t want to ask a friend to go with me because I didn’t want my old life t
o mix with my new one, yeah?” He looks at me expectantly, and I nod. “The truth is, school’s going well, but the rest of it…” He trails off and ducks his head, but not before I catch a hint of pink entering his cheeks. “The truth is, I thought I’d make friends easily and have the ‘full college experience’, you know? I’m so much older than most of my classmates, though. I’ve done the partying and drinking and it’s not really my thing anymore. I know I should make more of an effort, but…I’m struggling.”

  Ahh. Guess I wasn’t wrong after all; if anything, this vulnerability—especially paired with the slight flush of color in his cheeks—makes me like Kieran even more. There’s something so sweet and boyish about him, it makes me feel this odd sense of protection for him. “And you don’t want your parents to know because you’d get a great big ‘I told you so’, right?”

  He nods, and some of the light returns to his eyes. “That’s it. I know it’s dishonest, but I need them to think I have a full, well-rounded life here. That I have friends and a social life, and not that I mostly sit in my tiny room in a house I share with half a dozen other people, studying and watching Netflix.”

  I can’t help giggling at the image, but luckily Kieran laughs along with me. “Well, they won’t hear about any of that from me. We’ll present the image you want, and hopefully it’ll keep them off your back for awhile at least.”

  “Brilliant.” He glances past me before turning his gaze to his watch. “I guess I’ll see you next week then. I’ll text to confirm everything with you the day before.” He takes a step closer to me, then hesitates. “I feel like after this crash course in getting to know each other, we should hug?”

  The way he phrases it as a question endears him to me even more. “Definitely.” I step into his open arms and he closes them around me, holding me loosely. He’s only a few inches taller than my 5’5”, so I fit nicely against him. I allow myself to close my eyes for a moment, and then it hits me: if I’m closing my eyes, this hug is going on longer than it should. And yet neither of us is making any move to pull away.

  This is the ‘human touch’ part of my job description. At least that’s what I tell myself. It’s platonic. Comforting. Kieran did basically just tell me his life story in the span of an hour, after all. From the sounds of it, he doesn’t open up to many people, which means we share a bond now. And if I happen to notice how good he smells or the fact my head fits perfectly on his shoulder, that’s just a side effect of being observant.

  We finally release each other and I’m the first one to take a step back. Kieran gives me a small smile, followed by a light chuckle. “Are you going to charge me for that hug?”

  “I’ll put it on your tab for next week.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “You look a little…green.”

  “I feel like there’s an Irish joke in there somewhere.” Kieran mutters the words, following them with a weak smile. “I’m nervous. How ridiculous is it to be nervous to see your own parents?”

  From what he’s told me about them, I’d say it’s a perfectly natural reaction. I don’t actually say that to him, though. Or tell him I’m nervous myself.

  Kieran asked me to choose the restaurant since he doesn’t know Bellevue’s eating establishments well yet. I decided on Luigi’s Fine Italian Dining, a favorite among my group of friends because we all know the owner and can guarantee excellent food and service. When I made the reservation, I asked for a table that would allow for privacy, and that’s where Kieran and I are currently sitting.

  We agreed to meet half an hour before the time Kieran told his parents so we’d have a chance to go over any last-minute details. The restaurant’s owner, Don, has just brought us coffee while we wait, although I’m not sure caffeine is what Kieran needs right now. A fine layer of sweat has dampened the edges of his hairline, and he’s bouncing his legs so fast under the table I have to pick up my coffee so it doesn’t slosh all over the place.

  “Hey.” My firm voice catches his attention, and his darting eyes settle on me. I hold his gaze for a few seconds without saying anything until some of the tension eases out of his face. I reach across the table and lay my hand over his where it rests between us. “It’s going to be okay. Just remember, ultimately their opinion doesn’t matter as long as you feel like you’re doing what’s right for you. You don’t need their approval, and their disapproval says more about them than it does about you anyway.”

  His eyebrows inch up as I speak, and his head tilts slightly to the side. He studies me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. It makes me feel exposed in a way I never have before, and I can’t decide whether I like the feeling or if it makes me want to squirm. Maybe both. His lips lift in the barest of smiles, and he shakes his head. “I think you missed your calling as a motivational speaker,” he says softly.

  I cringe. “Too much?”

  He shakes his head again, quicker this time. “Not at all. I needed that pep talk more than I knew. Cheers, Sunshine.” He turns his hand under mine so our palms meet. The combination of his touch and the nickname make my stomach swoop. I don’t have time to react because someone says Kieran’s name and his hand slips from mine as his head jerks in the direction of the voice.

  “Teagan? What the hell are you doing here?” Despite the seemingly harsh question, Kieran’s face is overtaken by a bright smile as he scrambles from the booth and throws his arms around a pretty auburn-haired woman. I remain seated for a moment, watching as a man joins them, followed by an older couple.

  “Surprise, little brother!” The woman releases Kieran from the hug, keeping hold of him at arm’s length. She brushes his hair off his forehead and makes a tutting sound. “Someone needs a haircut.”

  Kieran rolls his eyes. “Good to see you too, Teag.” He steps out of her hold to do a handshake-hug combo with the man I’m guessing is his brother. I miss what they say to each other because my attention has shifted to Kieran’s parents. His mom, a thin woman with faded copper hair, stands at her husband’s side, despite the look of longing on her face as she watches Kieran. Her eyes dart between her three children before landing briefly on me.

  My own eyes move to the man at her side. He’s nearly a foot taller than his wife and at least twice as broad. His posture is ramrod straight as he watches the scene before him. With his commanding presence and mostly-silver hair, he’d be handsome if it weren’t for the hard lines and severe set of his mouth.

  “We passed an Irish pub on our way here and I was surprised you hadn’t chosen it for our gathering,” Teagan says. “This place seems a bit fancy for you.”

  “You can go to an Irish pub any day of the year,” Kieran says. “But maybe if I’d known you were coming…”

  “We wanted to surprise you,” Kieran’s brother says. “See firsthand what’s so great about this place and what’s keeping you away from Ireland.” His eyes drift to me as he says this. His knowing, borderline-smug expression has my hackles rising.

  “I’m Kieran’s friend, Meredith.” I stand and go straight for the brother since he’s still watching me, and offer him my hand to shake.

  “Oh, right, of course, sorry.” Any other time, Kieran’s flustered flurry of words would make me laugh, but I haven’t missed the fact he’s been studiously avoiding looking at his parents. “Meredith Cormier, meet my family. This is my sister, Teagan, and my brother, Sean. And these…” He finally looks at his parents, his gaze turning affectionate as he takes in his mother, then hardening noticeably as his eyes pass over his father. “…are my parents, Maeve and Eamon O’Malley.”

  We all exchange handshakes and pleasantries. From the corner of my eye, I see Kieran give his dad a stiff handshake before giving his mom a quick squeeze and whispering something in her ear that makes a smile flit over her face. Don approaches and hovers nearby, so I catch his attention and ask if it would be possible to get a bigger table to fit our extended party.

  “Nonsense, we’ll all fit in this booth,” Sean says, practically shoving h
is sister in first before getting in next to her. “It’ll be cozy.” He gives Kieran a stare I can only call challenging as he pats the space at the end of the booth.

  “Right. Cozy.” He glances at me, and I give him an encouraging smile. I already have a feeling this is going to be a disaster, but I can’t let him know I think that. I’m sure he’s thinking it himself anyway. “Mum, Dad.” He motions for them to get in first on the opposite site. His mother makes a sound of distress as she sits daintily and sort of hops her butt over to the far side rather than sliding. Kieran’s dad takes up at least half the bench seat, making me glad I’m at the end and not squished against the wall like Mrs. O’Malley. I’m also relieved to be across from Kieran, who’s watching me now with a look of trepidation.

  Don rushes forward once we’re all settled, handing out menus and taking our drink orders before hurrying away. He’s normally friendly and gregarious, but I think even he can sense the tension surrounding our table.

  “So, Meredith, are you a student too?” Teagan asks, her assessing gaze sweeping over me.

  “No, I’m a manager at the city’s amusement park.” Knowing the next question will be how we met, I move smoothly into the story Kieran and I concocted. “I have friends at the college who I visit regularly, and I kept running into Kieran. One day we decided to hang out on purpose and we’ve been friends ever since.”

  “Amusement park?” The question comes from directly beside me and is laced with mockery. I shift so I can meet Mr. O’Malley’s eyes; they’re the same color as Kieran’s, but where the younger O’Malley’s eyes hold the warmth of a summer day, his dad’s hold all the warmth of an iceberg.