She was fairly certain every woman at the table knew exactly what she meant by imaginary. She wasn’t talking about her books. She was talking about Padraig.
“Then that’s what we’re going to get you,” Sunnie said, slapping her hand on the table.
“Hear! Hear!” Kelli lifted her glass. “There’s a fourth-grade teacher at my school who’s single. He’s pretty cute and great with kids. I’ll set you up.”
“Oh!” Caitlyn chimed in. “There’s an awesome guy who works for Lucas who’d be perfect for you.”
“I’m going to check with Landon, see if there are any hot single cops at the precinct,” Sunnie added.
Emmy raised her hands. “Wait. I already have the three guys I’m talking to on the dating app.”
Yvonne sighed. “Oh, babe. You’re going to have to trust us. You’ll kiss a lot of frogs before you find that Prince Charming. Keep all your options open. Let them set you up.”
And this was why Emmy had come to her friends.
“Okay. Let’s do it. Set me up with all of them.”
2
Padraig stood next to the bar at the pub, his eyes studying the nameplate that proclaimed this spot was reserved for Emmy. There’d been a similar nameplate on the original bar. Padraig could still recall Emmy’s face when he’d unveiled it to her a year or so earlier. Her entire face had lit up with delight and she’d nearly fallen over the bar as she’d hugged him.
“What do you think?”
Padraig looked up at Tony Moretti’s question, his gaze sliding around the pub once more. He’d been back home for seven days—after the whirlwind six weeks in Ireland—and he was still blown away by the fact he was standing here…in the pub.
It was as if his uncles and the Morettis has resurrected the place from the ashes, managing to put it back almost exactly as it had been before the fire. While they still had a bit more work to do, the majority of the pub was there, the walls painted, the floors sanded and stained, the booths and tables filling the space, the pennants, tin signs, framed family pictures as well as autographed ones from the Collins celebrities—Sky, Teagan, Aubrey, and Hunter—were hanging up in almost exactly the same places as before.
But best of all, the long mahogany counter was back, the brass plates marking the two spots permanently reserved for Pop Pop and Emmy, gleaming brightly.
Now, his uncles had moved on to the apartment upstairs, working to restore the two floors above them, while the Moretti brothers finished working their magic on the pub and adjoining restaurant. They were in the process of decorating Sunday’s Side.
Tony, the oldest Moretti brother, had reassured them that they could recreate the pub’s look, and after seeing this mahogany bar, Padraig was convinced the men possessed magical abilities.
The youngest brother, Gio Moretti, was a master carpenter and he’d somehow managed to completely recreate the counter, the new one so much like the original, Padraig had done a double take when he’d first walked in this morning and seen it.
“This place looks amazing, Tony. I can’t begin…” Padraig fought to find the words. He’d spent every single day since the fire struggling to keep his head up, devastated by all his family had lost. Now…that misery was gone. “Gio did an amazing job recreating the mahogany bar. I can’t believe it’s not the same one.”
Tony smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that. He’ll be relieved to know you’re pleased. He knew it was the most important piece of furniture in the place, the one thing that really needed to be done right, so he’s been working on it pretty much around the clock.”
“He nailed it. More than nailed it.”
“Tony. You have a minute? Want to see if we can shift one of these booths a bit,” Aunt Keira called out through the opening between the pub and Sunday’s Side.
“Duty calls,” Tony said, crossing the room and disappearing into the restaurant.
Padraig ran his hand over the counter, aware that anyone who saw him now would probably think him unhinged, grinning like a damn fool over a bar.
He, Pop Pop, Colm, and Dad had returned from Ireland the week before. He’d stopped by Finn’s place to pick up his dog, Seamus, before heading to his apartment to unpack, do laundry, and fight to stay awake, so as to ward off the jet lag. Not that he’d managed. It had taken him two days to readjust to the time difference, and since then, he’d spent every moment from morning to evening here in the pub, working.
His gaze landed on Emmy’s brass nameplate once more, and he reached for his phone. Before the fire, he saw Emmy nearly every damn day as she set up camp here in her spot to write romance novels. He’d missed her more than he thought he would. They’d spoken on the phone a few times since his return, but because he was working such long hours, they hadn’t managed to actually get together.
She sounded somewhat breathless when she answered. “Hey, stranger. What’s up?”
He grinned. “Guess where I am.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say the same place you’ve been since you got back. The pub.”
He chuckled. “Be more specific, please.”
She paused, stumped, and then he heard her intake of breath. “Oh my God. Did Gio finish the bar? Are you standing behind it?”
“Nope. I’m standing next to your spot, complete with the brass plate that reads Reserved for Emmy Martin.”
“No way. You had them put the nameplate back on it?”
“Of course I did.”
“You have to take a picture and text it to me. Right now.”
Emmy knew how devastated Padraig had been by the fire. Mainly because she’d shared in that pain. She loved the place almost as much as he did.
“What if we do one better? Why don’t you come over and see for yourself? I’m going to be here working until the wee hours again. Bring your laptop if you want.”
“Are the Morettis there?” she asked.
He knew exactly why she was asking. Ordinarily he would have laughed and teased her, but this time…his mind drifted back to what Pop Pop had said to him in Ireland. It was obvious his grandfather thought Emmy was Padraig’s second chance at happiness, and the more Padraig considered that, the more he wondered if Pop Pop was right.
“They’re here,” he said.
“Is Tony wearing his hair down?”
Padraig glanced across the pub to where Tony was talking to Keira. The man’s long brown hair was down, hanging loose. The subject of Tony Moretti’s hair seemed to enthrall every female in his family, as well as Emmy. Riley and Bubbles fanned themselves behind Tony’s back every time he walked past them.
“It’s down,” he grumbled, fighting hard to give her the feigned much-aggrieved tone that was part of this friendly song and dance between them.
“Damn. I’m so tempted. Tony and his brothers have inspired at least a few dozen romance heroes for me.” She sighed dramatically, but he was too hung up on her words to tease her for her crush like he normally would.
She didn’t intend to accept his invitation.
“Tempted? So you’re not coming?”