It’s hard to say exactly how long they’ve been together, since they stumbled into the whole thing a little clumsily and took their time trying to figure out exactly what they were doing. But it’s been four and a half years since she first told Ames she loved him, and she hasn’t regretted it once.
Their birthdays are only two weeks apart, but they couldn’t be more different in how they celebrate. Ames, left to his own devices, would probably spend his birthday exactly like every other day, and breathe a sigh of relief if he got through it without having to be the center of attention. To Eilidh, the idea of not celebrating seems to her the most heartbreaking thing in the world. As in all things, therefore, they compromise.
For his birthday, she makes breakfast (she’s getting better at this and almost never burns things anymore). If he’s lucky and she wakes up in time, it’s waiting for him when he gets home from his run. If she’s still asleep, though, he can climb back into bed with her, and that’s just as good. One year, she managed to get up early enough to pack a breakfast picnic to take to the overlook for him, but he knows better than to expect that to happen with any frequency.
She makes him take the day off. He still complains about this, largely out of habit. Where they go and what they do, no one else in the world needs to know about; there are things that belong just to them, she’s always made sure of that.
When they come home, the furniture in the bar has been rearranged and fairy lights hung and candles lit, and now the place is full of their friends, new and old, and the tables have been pushed together and covered with food. It’s quiet except for laughter, and sometimes there’s dancing, and Ames suffers the embarrassment of being loved with tremendous grace. He used to feel unworthy of it. He had only begun to accept it from Eilidh because she seemed very sure that he deserved it, and he might not believe her but he couldn’t disappoint her. But now he looks up from his solitude once a year and sees his bar and his home full of people who care about him, and despite the voice that still tells him they are there because of Eilidh, because of her particular magic, he has learned to let himself feel loved.
Hours later, the music fading as he holds her in his arms, Ames looks up to find that their guests have all slipped away, leaving the two of them alone in the bar.
“Are you going to let me do the dishes before bed?” he asks, knowing the answer.
“You arenae allowed to do dishes on your birthday.”
“I did the dishes after breakfast.”
“You fuckin’ cheated, I was in the shower. Fool me once, you sneaky bastard.”
“What if I told you it was my birthday wish, my one wish when I blew out the candles?”
“If you tell anybody your wish it doesnae come true,” she reminds him, locking the door while he turns out the lights. They meet each other at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re just goin’ to have to settle for takin’ me to bed instead.”
Apparently he doesn’t have a witty retort for that, because instead of answering he pulls her close and kisses her. She takes this to mean she has won the argument, and he is happy to let her think that.
