The Matchmaker

by Catherine Walsh

“You’re mean.” “And you’re cute when you panic.” “Uh-uh. No.” “Excuse me?” “I’m too tired to flirt,” I tell him, and his smile widens. “I mean it. I can’t. I’ll say something stupid. I’m already saying something stupid. No flirting.”

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

“I mean that we need to think smarter. 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.”

“She met Grandad when he was cleaning the windows of her house and she opened the curtains naked, and he fell off the ladder.”

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

“Or maybe,” he continues. “It’s because I don’t know how I’m going to tear down your favorite place in the world when I can barely stand the thought of you getting caught in the rain.”

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.

“It doesn’t matter what you know or don’t know,” I tell him. “Kelly’s is my home. And if you think I’m going to be able to forget that you’re one of the people playing a part in destroying it, even if you don’t want to, then you haven’t been listening to me. You haven’t been listening at all.”

“Look, this doesn’t have to be…” He trails off, and I can almost see him searching for the right word. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t really thinking when I first met you. There was a lot of ‘she’s over there, so now I want to be over there’ going on. But the more time I spent here, the more I liked it here. I like the people. I like your pub. I like you. I like you a lot. And I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to be sad or disappointed or angry because of me. So I chose you.” He blows out a breath. “And now my brother will probably kill me.”

“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.”

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.”

“Because I’ve known you my whole life?” She shakes her head. “Don’t you want a real match?” she asks eventually, and he huffs like she said something funny. “Come on, Gem. It’s you.” And then, so quietly I almost miss it, “It’s always been you.”

I feel like I’ve spent the last few weeks snatching moments with him, each one exciting, maybe even a little confusing as we test and learn each other. But it’s only now that I realize we’re entering the next stage of what we have between us. The boring stage of chores and schedules and routine. Of meaningless texts and shared jokes and touching him whenever I want to. And I can’t wait for it.

“It’s only been a few months,” I say weakly. “So?” he retorts. “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?

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.”