I stop myself, realizing I'm spinning off on a political rant and that really isn't what I want to be talking about. "What I mean to say Ian, is that I believe war, or combat, creates an environment whereby people do things totally out of character. Ian, I didn't know you before your tour of duty, but from hearing Pappy talk, I don't think what you did was a reflection of the man you were. And I certainly don't believe it represents the man you are today. It is clear to me that your time in the war has shaped this man sitting with me - it's made him more considerate, more circumspect. It's made him take up charity work and strive to be a positive force in his community. It's taught him that he isn't loveable. What you did in Iraq has definitely shaped you, but I don't believe it defines you. That's how I feel now," I conclude.
Ian is quiet for a few moments.
"We should go," he says abruptly, standing up. "I've got to get to the pub."
I look up at him, knowing I've made him uncomfortable. I nod, and get up slowly, following him out to the truck. I'm going to let him off the hook for now. It's already been a really emotional day and it isn't even ten o'clock.
I spend the rest of the day doing chores - laundry, groceries, housework. No matter how hard I try, I can't get Ian out of my head. Seeing him with those veterans was truly moving. He was relaxed and confident and his whole spirit seemed to be alive. In short, he was magnetic.
I can't help but contrast it to what he is like at the pub. When he's behind the bar entertaining a crowd on a Friday night he has a similar air about him. He feels at home, in his element. But the peace that was with him today is not present. He's cool and confident and collected, but he's not serene.
I loved seeing him like that. It warmed my heart to know that he could experience this peace. After hearing what he did, after seeing how it still haunts him all these years later, I wondered if he could ever be content. Today showed me that he can be. He can find ways to live his life and by giving back, forgive himself a little for what he's done.
I'm sitting on my couch, the Gilmore Girls season 3 playing on my TV and it hits me like a ton of bricks. I love Ian. I love him, and I'm in love with him. And I'm going to fight for him. I know it is going to be hard, and I know he is going to fight me every damn step of the way. But suddenly I cannot deny my feelings a moment longer. He's flawed, and he's aloof, and convincing him he deserves to be loved is probably going to be the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I'm going to try. And dammit, I'm going to succeed.
******
I'm not due to the pub until 11am, but I want to get something off my chest so I walk in at 10am and head back to the office. Ian and Pappy are both there, each working on their computer and looking adorable. Pappy, with his wispy white hair and green wool sweater looks just like you'd imagine a little old Irish pub owner to look like. His nose and cheeks are a smidge rosier than the average person, speaking of many an hour deep in a pint, and his eyes dance with a mirth that even the worst life throws at you can't seem to extinguish.
There, sitting beside him, the younger, stronger, more intense version of his best self. Ian is wearing a cream, long-sleeved shirt and he's shaved. He looks fresh and handsome and I'm physically drawn to him. His brows are furrowed and he's typing angrily - hitting the keyboard with punishing stabs of his fingers.
"Whatever that keyboard did, I'm not sure it warrants such punishment," I say smiling, and causing both men to look up at my previously unnoticed entrance.
"You say that, but you have no idea!" Ian says with a gleam in his eye. "This damn contraption is trying to tell me I didn't order the side of beef I most certainly know I ordered. Somebody's gotta pay!" He punctuates this with a particularly fierce jab, followed by the swish of a sent email.
I smile at him and then turn my attention to Pappy.
"Pappy, can Ian and I have the office for a couple minutes?"
Ian stiffens and Pappy looks between the two of us with a fair amount of concern. "Ye aren't goin' to quit again, are ye?" he asks apprehensively.
"No," I say, shaking my head. "Nothing like that, I promise."
"Alright then, I actually think I'll go get meself one of those holiday coffees down the street. ‘Tis like dessert for breakfast, I love ‘em." He smiles as he readies himself to leave.
"Whatever you do, don't get the eggnog latte, they're disgusting," Ian can't help but quip, even though tension still shows plainly in his shoulders.
"Don't listen to him!" I practically shout as I grab Pappy who is moving out of the office. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I look deeply into his eyes and say, "The eggnog latte is akin to the nectar of the gods - the winter nectar - and you should definitely get one. Have you ever had one?"
Pappy shakes his head and I gasp dramatically. "Then you haven't truly lived!"
Pappy laughs, and says, "Alright Kelli darlin', I'll try one out. If ye promise you aren't quitting, I'll even bring one back for ye."
"Score! I promise - not quitting - you have my word," I assure him.
He pats me on the arm and leaves the office, and then the pub through the kitchen door.
I sit down across from Ian and fold my hands in front of me on his desk. I don't say anything for a moment and his agitation gets the better of him.
"For Christ's sake Kelli, what the hell is it?" he bites out impatiently.
Changing my mind, I stand up and walk around to stand beside him. He looks up at me and it is awkward, so I decide to change my position again. This time I stretch my right leg over his lap and straddle him, placing my hands on his shoulders. He sucks in a breath and immediately holds himself perfectly still. He looks at me like I'm some predatory creature and if he just doesn't move, perhaps I won't devour him.
It's strange, but it gives me a little thrill, this power I have over him. He is so badass, normally so cool and confident, and here a simple act like sitting in his lap has him totally discombobulated. I love it.
"You aren't going to want to hear this, but I'm going to say it anyway," I begin. I hadn't actually thought about what I was going to say and now that I'm in the moment, I'm at a loss. I cast about for how to continue.
"I've been thinking about you a lot. About who you are and what you did. And long story short, I'm in love with you." I pause for his reaction but he remains motionless, his eyes focused on a spot somewhere just past my left ear. Undaunted, I continue.
"I can't ignore what you've done, that wouldn't be right. However, I do believe you are repentant and that you are trying to live your life in a way that doesn't gloss over your past, but that allows you to move forward. I admire your strength, and your decision to not forget," I pause here, running my hand over his tattoo.
"But I think it is time to reintroduce love into your life. I'm in love with you, Ian. And I believe you are in love with me." I finish and wait for his response. There is none. For a moment I fear that perhaps he doesn't return the feeling. I've been so wrapped up in my emotions that I hadn't really checked in on his. It was clear he cared for me a month ago, but perhaps things have changed since then. Perhaps my disappearance broke his ability to trust me and the potential of what we could have had is gone.
With my brows now furrowed, I study him. His breath is shallow and he's still holding himself motionless. I look at his parted lips and imagine kissing them. Isn't that what's supposed to happen after a declaration of love? A passionate embrace and deep, sweet kiss? Are things ever going to be easy with Ian?
I look up into his eyes and I see the fear there; he's scared shitless. Touching his cheek, and gently forcing his face towards me, I say again, "I love you, Ian."
Ian bursts out of his chair, depositing me onto his desk, my ass on his keyboard, before moving to the door. Stopping right outside of the office, he spins around and unleashes. "You keep saying that! ‘I love you' ‘I'm falling in love with you.' ‘The man I love.' Stop it! Fucking stop it, alright? Stop saying it. I didn't ask for you to love me! I don't want your love. Fuck you!"
With that, he explodes through the kitchen door leaving me alone in the pub.
Right, well, that didn't go quite as planned. I think about my next move and decide to let it be. He'll come back and he'll be moody and distant. Hey, at least he heard me, right?
I grab the laptop and make my way out to a booth. I pull up my notes and start piecing together some thoughts on a blog. Surprisingly, I'm able to focus and it feels like just seconds have passed when Pappy returns, two lattes in hand.