The Matchmaker

by Catherine Walsh

“I lied. You’ve also made me a liar. Happy?”

“I think it was the leaflet guy comment. He’s very proud of those.”

“I read on the internet that if I keep going like this my collagen will start to break down.” “You don’t even know what collagen is.” “I know I want it not to break down.”

“As a mother—” “You’re not a mother,” Frank interrupts. “I have a son.” “You have a cat. Gemma has a son.”

I walk slowly around it, running my hands over the stones until I feel the faint etching on the far side, the initials of two love-drunk kids who’d grow up to have me.

“You’re mean.” “And you’re cute when you panic.”

The same wild brown hair, the same button nose. A high forehead, hazel eyes and sturdy hips that would have made me very popular back when my ancestors needed to populate the earth but are not so great now when trying to find jeans that actually fit me.

She scoffs at that. “I’m not going to die in the garden. I’ll die warm in bed with my granddaughter by my side.” “I hope I’m not also dying in this scenario.” “Oh no, the apocalypse floods will get you.”

“And disturb the fairies? That’s what you want? I raised you better than that.”

“But luckily for you and your fairy friends—” “Not friends. Respected beings.”

Our population skews older here and not everyone has family nearby. Sometimes, an hour or two at Kelly’s is the only time they might speak with another human in days. There would be no Ennisbawn without Kelly’s. And there would be no Kelly’s without Adam.

“I don’t hate you,” I say because I still feel bad about that. “But I think you’re on the wrong side and I think you know that. I hope your date shows up.”

Callum gives me a knowing look. “Hoping for something embarrassing?” “There is no such thing as embarrassing music taste,” I say, turning it off again. “But also, yes.”

“It’s her answer to everything these days. I asked her last year what kind of funeral she wanted, and she said, ‘What do I care? I’ll be dead.’ Then the next day, she said she wanted to be pushed out to sea on a flaming boat.”

Callum’s jaw muscles flex. “And what is he, your boyfriend or something?” “My what?” I stare at him in horror. “No. Gross. No.”

jealousy jealousy 🎶

“It’s my favorite place in the whole world. It’s my favorite place and you’re bulldozing your way through it like it’s nothing. And if I can’t pull off this festival, I’ll think of something else. But I won’t stop. I love my home. I can’t imagine living anywhere else and I’m not going to see anyone take it away from me just because they want a nice view for their golf course.

“And they need to care about the environment. But not in an annoying way. Billionaires are taking private jets to their islands on the weekend, I’m allowed to use a plastic straw every now and then.”

“Swearing is a conservative social construct. Curse words can’t hurt you and only boring people are offended by them.”

👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

We should target the Americans.” “I don’t think—” “We can all wear knitwear,” she continues. “They love when we wear knitwear. And Adam can put cabbage and stew on the menu, and we can hire a horse and carriage to bring them places. We’ll pretend we don’t have cars.”

It would work.

I’m going to kill Granny. I am going to double-check her will and then I am going to kill her.

“I’m not going to fight with you on this.” “We’re not having a fight.” “Not yet.” He raises a brow. “But you’re looking for one, aren’t you?”

“You’re not a headache girl then?” “I’m a stomachache girl. Whole different vibe.”

“You just have to return the favor now.” His eyes shoot to mine, and I quickly backpedal at the spark in them. “I’m joking.” “I know,” he says. “I like it.”

You’re going to burn out.” “Yes, like a phoenix.”

He nods like I’ve made a compelling argument, but before I can step away, he hooks a finger through one of the belt loops on my jeans. It’s a small movement, and an easily breakable hold, but the gentle tug of it sends a bolt of heat straight between my legs, locking me in place.

“You make me nervous,” I admit, and he nods like he knew that already. “Good nervous or bad nervous?” “I haven’t decided yet.”

Green eyes, I decide. I like men with green eyes and men who look at me like that. Like I’m the only person in the world.

“My ex-boyfriend wants to set me up?” “Only weird if you make it weird.”

“And we’re…” I wait for her to stop smiling. She doesn’t. “We’re sad about this?” “God, no. She was a horrible woman.” “Then why are you going to her funeral?” “To gloat,” she says, like it’s obvious. “I outlived her.”

You shouldn’t trust people with their bananas, and you shouldn’t trust people with their kisses.”

And it wasn’t just going to be about the pub or about attention. It was about us. About the village and showing the world who we are. It was going to be about people falling in love. They were going to fall in love and meet their soulmate here and years from now, when people asked them how they met, they could say Kelly’s. They could say Ennisbawn. And no one would want to get rid of us then.

“You really weren’t trying to seduce me?” “Only for my own gains,” he says, and I almost smile. Almost.

There’s a faint ringing in my ears like I’ve been thrown underwater, and when I step forward, closing the gap between us, the forest around us fades, leaving just him and me, and that look in eyes like he’s been waiting for me his whole life.

“Just a hamster?” Granny stares at me. “No grown man should own just a hamster.”

“Is this a ‘would you still love me if I was a worm’ conversation?” he asks, and before I can even begin to react to the casual L word drop, he continues on. “Katie, you could tell me that your sole interest in life is snail migration, and I’d listen to every word you say so long as your eyes light up like that.”

“You wouldn’t be by yourself.” “At the start, I would.” “Not if I went with you.”

“I always ask nicely. I’m very nice.” “And that’s why you won’t have any problem making friends. Even as a wizened, geriatric twenty-eight-year-old.”

He eases back to sit beside me, his thigh pressed against mine as he laces our fingers together. “Anywhere you want to go. If you want me to, I’ll follow.”

“What?” “Nothing.” He trails a finger along the side of the jumpsuit. “This is nice.” “If you’re trying to calm me down, you’re not helping,” I say, and he grins, kissing me on the cheek.

“I feel like I must not have been clear before,” he says against my lips. “So let me be clear now. You want to do this with me?” “Yes.” “Then no matches. No dates. No open for business, even if it’s just for the cameras. Or I’ll kiss you just like that in front of them too. Got it?”

“Come on, Gem. It’s you.” And then, so quietly I almost miss it, “It’s always been you.”

“No, not barely. That was a punch. In the face. How’s your hand? Did you break it?” “Did I… no.” He sounds amused now, like I’m the ridiculous person here, when he’s the one fighting like he’s in an action movie.

“Thank you for protecting my honor.” “Anytime, Katie Collins.”

“I like you like this,” he says, and I raise a brow. “Half-naked?” “That,” he agrees and his stomach muscles flex beneath my fingertips as he moves, standing from the bed in one fluid movement and bringing me with him. “And happy.”

But I know how much you’ve had to take on in the last few years. And I know how much I’ve let you. I don’t intend to leave this life anytime soon, but the last thing I want for you is to spend the best years of yours worrying about me every moment.”

So right now, I want you to make time for you. I want you to make choices for you. For what you want. No matter if that’s staying right where you are or traveling the world. I want you to be selfish because I know you can do that without being cruel. I want you to be happy. That’s all I want in the whole world, Katie. For you to look me in the eye and tell me you’re happy.”

“You think I don’t know my own heart? You think I don’t know when I’ve found a good thing? How can I get bored of this place if it’s where you are? How can I get tired of it when all you need to do is stand there breathing and you have my full attention? Katie, for the first time in my life, I feel like I’ve found a place I can call home.

He falls back down to the grass, scowling at the sky. “You told me once that Kelly’s was your favorite place in the world. Well, you’re mine. You’re mine and I’ll go where you go. For as long as you want me to, I’ll be right there with you.”

“I’m in love with you, Katie Collins. And I’ll choose you every time.”

“Callum?” “Yeah?” He kisses the crown of my head, and I burrow into his side. “You’re my favorite place too.”