Luck of the Irish

Soledad Cabrera has always believed in love. Its just never worked out for her, never the type she wants: the happily ever after every girl seeks. There's the bubbly, eccentric gal everyone sees, and the genuine, normal lass she wishes everyone saw.
Enter Egan Sheehan, her Noah Calhoun. Enough said.
This story is for hopeless romantics everywhere. A present from their anonymous Prince Charming

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2. "Ta Main"

I gazed up at the hot air balloon in the middle of St. Stephan Greens' main lawn. It was dark, but my beau of 8 years, a handsome Irish expat and Notre Dame alumnus, had left a note in my hotel room.

Meet me in the park! Midnight. Bring a coat. Ha ha ha

Irish July nights were so cold you could see your own breath. The last time I'd gone out at night without one, there'd been a terrible price to pay despite the fact Egan had given me his. So, I slunk out; here I was. A glowing lantern greeted me, his face awash with pleasure. "Hi. Coming aboard?" I took his Gael-pale hands and shyly stepped into the basket. He yanked on a lever and a flame burst into the belly of the balloon. We rose and rose until surrounded by night and her candles.

 

"'Tis a beautiful full moon we've out tonight, so it is." "'Tis." In our years of courtship, I'd all but mastered the Irish art of speech. "Pity it can't be touched, though." "Och, so it can't be, but I have the next best thing."

 

A small blue velvet box appeared in his palm.

 

Cue the struck dumb look. "Egan....are you sure about this?" "Soledad Angelina," "Look at me! Can you honestly say you want to spend the rest of your life with this?" I made measuring motion with my hand, touching my shoulders, then trailing down to my scissoring spindly legs. 

 

I'd been born with triplegiac cerebral palsy,technically, but I called it hemiplegia, because I can control my right side just fine. My only problem was that my knees bent of their own accord; I had to fight consciously to keep them erect while standing. That and my left elbow would be permanently somewhat flexed, as well as the telltale limp I sported, not to mention a textbook swayback posture; shoulders I had to throw back to keep level as a result. No thanks to a web of surgical scars, I never wore short sleeves or shorts almost at all. Did I mention I got fatigued twice as fast as your average person?

 

Anger boiling, I walked to the edge of the basket and stared over the melancholy landscape. "I would," My Libra said. "Because you have a smile that lights up a room, because you are phenomenally bright and bloody hilarious, because you're the life of craic, because you feel so deeply, give help and love unconditionally, because you understand little things matter, your intrepid curiosity makes you never want to stop learning; because I want to love you like Albert did Victoria and make you realize that maybe you'll treat yourself right and love yourself like I love you!"

 

"Quoting One Direction isn't going to help the situation. Besides, you forgot--" "You'll never treat yourself right darling but I want you to. Oops, I just let these little things slip out of my mouth." " 'Cause it's you, oh it's you, it's you they add up to." "And I'm in love with you, and all these little things."

 

He pulled me into his arms and gave the back rubbing hug that only he could give: the best hug ever.They usually could soothe away any worry, but not these three.

 

"I'm bloody terrible at housework."

"We'll hire a maid,we will!"

"I'm a eejit at cooking."

"I'm a whiz meself."

"What about children?" I felt the wind hold its breath. His eyes, exactly  like Matthew Goode's, bore holes through mine. "We'll try our hardest, love, I promise. It might mean complications or lots of bed rest for you, but God willing, you'll be all right. As for taking care of them, somehow, we'll figure out a system, so we will."

 

"I love you." I spoke against his chest. He kissed the top of my head, still in the longest embrace yet.

 

"Would you like to be buried with my people, then?"

 

"Aye!" He let out the laugh i adored so; bent to kiss me. Our palms touched, such an intimate gesture that my heart caught. Carefully, he slid the pure silver cabochon onto the third finger of my left hand. He'd given me the moon that night, but now I was over it.

 

 

 

 

Sorry it took so long :( What does everyone think? :) Fleur

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