Page 15 of Thanks for Coming Along
"I can see why she wasn't happy," he admitted. Who would be happy with a long-distance relationship with no communication? "I was so consumed with excelling in my career and securing the best interviews that everything else, including my relationship, was thrown to the back burner."
Eden contemplated Ronan's response, her gaze drifting out toward the endless expanse of the ocean. Her arms wrapped gently around her legs, hugging them close.
"So you wouldn't change careers for your partner?" she asked curiously.
"At that point in my life, no. I wasn't willing to give up my career. I loved my career, but it has changed my life in good and bad ways." He had grappled with this thought recently.
"I feel my career has made me defeatist, which also took a toll on her. She couldn't absorb that darkness inside of me, and I wouldn't want her to. I wouldn't want to dim that light inside of her." Ronan's tone remained matter-of-fact.
Despite the challenges his career posed to his relationships, he took pride in his chosen career. Embracing his career as a journalist defined him and, in a way, gave him a shield that protected him from his own emotions at times. This shield had kept him at a distance from others, and he'd done it on purpose. Keeping that mindset was important to avoid getting caught up in situations that could quickly get out of hand, especially when it came to his career.
Eden, still gazing at the horizon, nodded thoughtfully.
"I think we all have darkness inside of us. It takes the right person to traverse that part of us. I think the right person has a light that complements our darkness." Ronan considered her words; maybe she was right.
Everybody carried their own past, their own wounds and traumas. Maybe it takes finding the right person whose light could dispel the darkness within us. He thought about his parents' relationship and how well they complimented each other. The intricate dance of give and take, how they embraced light and darkness in each other. It had always been the standard he'd held in his previous relationships.
"I think I always compare my relationships to my parent's marriage. They are high school sweethearts who got married the summer they graduated. My dad used to say that he met my mom and knew she was the one. They've been together for 32 years and still have so much fun together. Growing up, our house was filled with laughter, pranks, and endless banter. It felt like an impossible standard to measure up to." Ronan thought back to his few romantic relationships. They were fine for the most part. But he had never found a best friend in his partner. He always maintained a certain distance to avoid getting too close.
"Why do you think that is?" Eden asked as she tilted her head at him, her shimmering sapphire eyes capturing the fading evening light. Ronan paused for a moment, his gaze drifting to the horizon.
"I guess it's because I never really allow myself to fully open up," he admitted with a hint of vulnerability. "I've always been the type to protect myself from potential hurt. I've always lived a logical life, always making sure not to put myself in situations where I might get hurt." As he spoke, he realized it was a relatively sad way to live, but it had become second nature.
"It's not that I haven't had opportunities for love," he continued, "or that I don't yearn for it. It's something deeper, I think. A skeptic, maybe. I've been controlled by carefully calculated decisions, the kind of person who weighs the pros and cons and overanalyzes every situation. Love..well, love is a precarious thing, a gamble with no guaranteed return." His words hung in the air.
"Have you been in love before?" Eden asked softly.
"Is it sad to say no?" Ronan asked, placing his almost empty Chinese take-out container on the blanket. He turned his head to look at Eden, who was still watching him with interest. Eden shook her head gently.
"No, it isn't," she reassured him. "I don’t know if I’ve ever truly been in love. Liam was probably the closest I’ve come to it. But looking back, I don’t think I was actually in love with him. And he definitely wasn’t in love with me. You can’t do what he did to me and call that love. I think he loved the attention he got from being with me."
Ronan’s hands balled into fists, the blanket beneath them bunching up as his anger flared. Liam’s actions were unforgivable, especially when it was clear the beautiful woman beside him had been the one to bear the brunt of it.
"I never got into music to get famous or become one of the 'greats'; I did it because I love creating it. But Liam, all he talked about was fame, the money we could make." She shook her head, drawing her legs closer to her chest as if to shield herself from the memory.
He couldn’t hold back his admiration, and the words came out fast, eager to make sure she knew how he felt.
"I honestly think you're one of the greats. I've seen you perform, and it’s not just a one-off thing. The way the crowd reacts to you—I’ve never seen anything like it. And it’s not just your stage presence, it’s your songwriting. Your music really connects with people... you connect with people." He meant every word. In his eyes, Eden had it all: a voice that could move mountains, the ability to produce, and the talent to write her own songs. Her charm wasn’t just in her looks; it was in how real she was, and that authenticity drew people in.
"It was definitely a one-off. Usually, I just recite my cult manifesto, then pass around a sign-up sheet and see if I get any takers." Her infectious grin lit up the darkness, coaxing a smile from Ronan in response. He was thankful for a break from all the vulnerability they were sharing. He noticed he was getting a bit too engrossed in their conversation. Intoher. Ronan forced himself back into his well-worn journalist mindset.
"How long have you been interested in music?" he asked.
"Since I developed fine motor skills, I think," she replied, her tone wistful. "Singing was easier than breathing for me. I would sing instead of talking most of the time growing up. I only picked up the guitar later in my teen years."
Nodding as she spoke, Ronan followed up by asking, "Who were your biggest music inspirations when you were young?"
"I would listen to anything," she began. "I had a little FM radio and would listen to the Oldies station. My first obsession was rock and roll — the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix. Then the Sex Pistols once I was old enough to understand rage, which was pretty young," she added humorlessly. He couldn't help but wonder what she meant by that.
"The list goes on and on. If there was a beat, I would listen and most likely appreciate it." Ronan's fascination grew as he asked, "Did you always want to perform?" A genuine smile curved on Eden's lips.
"Yes, I honestly didn't think I could make a living doing it. But it didn't stop me from picturing myself on stage since I was old enough to know that music could be a career. It was an escape, a way to communicate my feelings to the world when no one was listening," Eden said as she toed the sand in front of her. Had she really felt no one listened to her growing up? It was hard to imagine. Who could have possibly not been captivated by her? She was like a woven tapestry, threads of creativity interwoven with charisma that made her an absolute enigma, drawing people in without trying.
"Well, now there are millions of people listening." He said as he bumped his shoulder with hers. She turned her gaze up to meet his, a subtle warmth lighting up her eyes at his words.
"How did you know you wanted to be a journalist?"
"Well, my Grandad and my Gran were from Northern Ireland," he started, his voice reflecting. "They immigrated to the U.S. in the 1960s. Violence was at an all-time high back then, and my Grandad lost his sister in a bombing. He was devastated and left to make a better life for them." He paused for a moment.
