was he going to be free for dinner, but—“Mickey!” he shouted.
His cousin stuck his head around from the other side of the kitchen where the sinks were. His pale Irish skin was flushed from the steam of scouring pans. “Yeah, boss man?”
“You want to close tonight?”
His expression was a mixture of delight and abject terror. Which meant he was ready. “Just me?”
Sean nodded. “You think you’re ready to be the boss man for a few hours?”
Mickey grinned. “I was born ready, boy-o.”
“Good, because tonight’s the night.”
Sean grinned as he moved into his office and closed the door behind him. If he was very, very lucky, tonight would, indeed, be the night.
9
Holly moved to the window and watched Sean cross the street. She could hardly believe what had just happened, what she’d let happen—encouraged to happen, if she was honest with herself. She should be feeling remorse, or worry, or…something. Something other than the huge urge to do a little dance around the room then wander back to the window, and stare, longingly, at the door to Gallagher’s, reliving every single moment, every word, every breath, every…“Wow,” she said, lifting the hair off her still-heated nape. “That was—he is—” She leaned against the desk again and laughed at herself. “Yeah. Wow, sums it right up.” She spent a moment or two marveling over the kind of stupid silly giddy feelings she had. Had she ever in her life felt like that? That was an easy one. “Never.”
She tried to control the rush of emotion so she could think. She had so much thinking to do. More now than before. Important decisions to make, bigger ones, now. Potentially life altering. And yet, she kept staring out the window. “What am I going to do with you, Sean Gallagher?”
She thought about him over there, inside the restaurant, with all those other Gallaghers milling about…Gallaghers she’d be personally meeting, mingling with, adjusting to, if she wanted to have Sean in her life. She gave a little shudder. A room full of professional clients clamoring for her were one thing. The tightly knit bosom of Sean’s family was quite another. “Okay, so I’m not ready to think about that part yet.”
She stood, making the desk wobble, which reminded her about the hidden compartment she’d found just before Sean had arrived. It was amazing that she was able to recall anything that happened before he got here. The last hour of her life had truly changed everything. It was like, from now on, her life would be compartmentalized as happening Before Sean and After Sean. Or, perhaps, Without Sean and With Sean.
She bent down to get a better look in the desk, her mind still spinning on how just a few days and one person could so drastically change her perspective on everything. Spying something tucked away inside the little cubby hole was finally enough to jerk her thoughts back to the present. “Huh. What do you know.” She reached her hand inside and slipped out a slender, bound volume. A book? Maybe it would help to explain where the piece came from, or why it wasn’t listed in inventory.
She walked over to the divan and sat down as she carefully opened the cover. It was clearly old, very old judging by the faded silk fabric cover and hand-stitched binding. There was no title on the cover, and she realized why as soon as she opened it. It wasn’t a published book. It was someone’s journal. Or diary. A slender piece of ribbon, which might have been pink once, but had yellowed badly with time, was tucked between the pages, marking a spot about two thirds of the way into the book. But, instead of going to that spot, she started at the beginning.
Holly carefully turned the once glossy cover page over and stared at an unlined page filled with row after neatly written row, all done with what appeared to be an old-fashioned ink pen. The handwritten lines filled up that first page, leaving little white space, and all the others that followed it were the same, until the aged slip of ribbon, which marked the final entry. The ink was a faded brown now, and as she carefully leafed through the pages, there were spots that were almost faded entirely away.
She went back to the beginning and skimmed, looking for a full date, but there were none she could find. Days of the week, and sometimes months, were noted, but no years. None marked