DECEMBER 31, 1994
“ARE YOU OKAY?” I ASKED GIBSIE, EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY KNEW THE ANSWER.
It was New Year’s Eve, and we were sitting at my kitchen table, while his mother and Keith sipped champagne with my parents.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Gibsie replied, sounding sad. “Thanks for inviting me to your party, Liz.”
It was my parents’ party, not mine. They’d decided to throw a party this New Year’s Eve to thank their friends for all their support during the year.
Mam was out of bed and dressed up in a beautiful dress, and Dad looked actually happy tonight. The kitchen was filled with grown-ups whose names I didn’t know, while Caoimhe and Mark had the living room jam-packed with friends from school.
Reaching over, I placed my hand on Gibsie’s and whispered, “Keith’s a fucker.”
That made him smile, so I racked my brain for more curse words. “Keith’s a stupid, son-of-a-bitch, fucker pup.”
Now, he full belly laughed. “He is a fucker pup.”
I grinned. “Yep.”
When the doorbell sounded, Gibs and I both looked at each other before making a run for the front door.
“He’s here,” I squealed at the same time Gibs cheered, “She’s here!”
Butting Gibsie out of the way with my hip, I grabbed the door handle a second before him and grinned in victory. Call it silly, but I wanted to be the one to open the door when Hugh came to my house. I wanted to be the first person to see his face. In fact, I wanted to see his face all the time. Every day.
When I yanked the door open and was greeted by the Biggs family, I had to force myself to not throw myself at Hugh.
I wanted to.
So bad.
Because I thought about him all the time. My face felt hot when he smiled at me, and I wanted to spend all my time being near him. Even when I was supposed to be playing with Claire, I always searched for him and secretly hoped that he would come into the room and join us. I loved the things he talked about. He was so smart and was always teaching me things. About stars and constellations, about nature, books, movies, music. He was like my own personal encyclopedia on life itself.
“Gerard!” Claire squealed, rushing past me to throw her arms around our friend. “You look super nice in your shirt.”
“Thanks, Claire-Bear,” he chuckled, looking more relaxed than he had all night now that she was here. “You look like a princess.” Draping an arm over her shoulders, they followed her parents into the kitchen, while I remained rooted to the spot, attention riveted on the only boy I ever wanted to look at.
He was wearing a red plaid shirt that was tucked into dark jeans, with brown boots. His hair was neatly combed, but it still flopped forward like Junior from the movie Little Giants.
Hugh grinned at me. “Hi.”
I beamed back at him. “Hi.”
“Thanks for the invitation.” He held up the familiar card and winked. “Nice g.”
My face flushed with heat. “I’ve been practicing.”
“I can tell.” Smiling, he stepped inside, and his arm brushed against mine as he moved, making the flutter-cups go crazy.
Unable to stop myself, I leaned in close and took a whiff. Just like I remembered: freshly cut grass, soap, strawberries, and Hugh.
“Did you just smell me again?” he asked with a small laugh.
“I like how you smell.”
“I took a bath this evening.” Raising his arm to his nose, he took a whiff of his armpit and shrugged. “It’s the same soap as always.”
“Does your mam put bubbles in?”
“Yep.”
“I like bubbles.”
“Same.”
“I don’t like baths anymore.”
“Why not?”
“They’re stingy.”
He frowned. “Stingy?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
Confusion filled his eyes. “I don’t get stung.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s just my bath.”
“Maybe.” His gaze drifted over me, and I felt my body warm up. “You look really nice.” Smiling, he flicked the bow on my hair and teased, “Very un-Lizzie of you.”
“My sister made me wear it.” Blushing, I closed the door behind him. “Thanks for coming.”
“Your house is huge,” he told me. “Like seriously huge.”
“Yeah.” Standing in the hallway, I clasped my hands together and stared at him. “It’s really old.”
“Yeah, it looks it.” He seemed interested in the walls of our entryway. “It’s really cool.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” His eyes met mine for a moment and my face grew hot again. “My dad’s an architect, so I sort of love these kinds of places.” He turned around slowly, eyes focused on the carvings in the ceiling. “Georgian?”
“Uh, my dad’s name is Michael,” I corrected. “And he’s in the kitchen.”
Hugh frowned at me for a brief moment before a huge smile spread across his face. “You are so cute.”
My eyes widened. “I’m cute?”
His lips twitched but he didn’t answer, deciding to change the subject by asking, “So, how about it, milady? Fancy giving your brave knight a tour of the palace?”
“You’re so weird.” Snickering, I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the staircase. “Let’s go.”
“Hey, did you know that your mother’s great-great-great-great-great-grandfather fought in the Siege of Cork in 1690?”
“That’s a lot of greats, Hugh.” Sprawled out on my bedroom floor, I rested my chin in my hands, while I watched Hugh comb through a book he’d found in the library room.
“And your family is one of the few Catholic-Irish families to retain their land and wealth during the plantation?”
“Did he die?”
“Who?”
“My great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.”
“Nope, but it says here that he lost a leg.” Carefully turning the dusty page, he continued to read. “Liz, your mam is wealthy.” He leaned in closer to read the handwritten diary entries. “And not just regular wealthy.” He turned his head to look at me. “She has generational wealth.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
“It means her children’s children won’t ever have to worry about money.” He frowned before chuckling to himself. “I guess that means your kids.”
“But I don’t have any kids?”
“Not now, but when you’re a grown-up, you’ll have a bunch” he explained, returning his attention to the book. “And they’ll be filthy rich.”
“Oh.” I thought about it for a moment, decided I didn’t care, and went right back to staring at him. “I think I like being around you more than your sister,” I admitted. “Does that make me a bad friend?”
“Nah,” Hugh replied, turning his head to look at me again. “I get it.”
“You do?”
“Yep.” Nodding, he closed the book and rested his chin on his hand. “You like the peace and quiet, and my sister is the opposite of quiet.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “I do like the quiet.”
“Me, too,” he agreed. “Besides, you’re the baby of your family, aren’t you? And Caoimhe’s way older than you.”
“Yep.”
“So quiet is what you’re used to,” he continued to explain. “I’m the oldest of the four of us, so I’m used to the noise, but I don’t like it.”
My brows furrowed in confusion. “But there’s only two of you.”
“Gibsie’s basically the middle child, and Beth’s the baby.” Lips twitching into a small smile, he added, “He’s practically my brother.”
“So you guys sort of adopted him?” I grinned. “Like Master Splinter did with the turtles.”
His brown-eyed gaze flicked to me and his smirk deepened. “Pretty much.”
He was pretty. So pretty. “Hey, Hugh?”
“Hm?”
“I like you.”
“I like you, too, Liz,” he replied, pulling himself into a sitting position. “I wish you were in my class at school and not my sister’s.”
Mirroring his actions, I sat cross-legged, facing him, and smiled. “I want to be with you all the time.”
“Yeah.” His cheeks reddened when he nodded. “I want that, too.”
“Hey, Hugh?”
“Yeah, Liz?”
“You know the way Gibsie is going to ask Claire to marry him when they’re grown-up?” I shifted closer until our knees were touching. “Do you think you might ask me to marry you?”
Hugh stared at me for a long time before saying, “If I asked you, would you say yes?”
“Yes.” I nodded eagerly. “I would definitely say yes.”
He smiled. “That’s good to know.”
“Hey, Hugh?”
“Yeah, Liz.”
I pointed to the watch on his wrist. “Happy New Year.”
Hugh stared down at the face of his watch for a long moment before turning his attention back to me. And then, with red cheeks, he leaned in close and kissed my cheek. “Happy New Year, Liz.”
