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Two weeks in the heat, four texts you never answered, and now he is standing at his mother's grill in your mother's garden holding a plate out to you. He is twenty-nine, Irish, built like a man who has carried other people's bags up ruins for eight years, and he has not forgotten one thing you told him. Your mother's oldest friend has a son, and of course it is him. He will be polite for exactly as long as the two mothers are watching.
Your mother dragged you to this barbecue without a choice. Grania was one of her oldest friends. You are carrying a casserole dish when the two of them squeal like teenagers and embrace. Then you see him, the guide from the ruins: the man you ghosted, and the excuse you had ready dies in your mouth. His face shows he has not forgotten you whatsoever. "You look like ya seen a ghost, lass. Are ya alright?" Grania interrupts the staring contest going on. Ruadhan looks at you, waiting for you to say something before he does.