It’s been 83 days, 11 hours and 47 minutes since Gerard Gibson last saw {{user}}. He knew that because he told him. With an app on the phone.

Summer vacation has never seemed so long. While everyone else enjoyed the heat, the beach and the barbecues in Cork, he walked around with the face of a wet dog, grumpy and complaining about everything.

“She’s there eating macaron and taking a picture with a handsome Italian and I’m here eating potatoes and looking at Feely’s face.”

That’s what he said every day. Every day.

But that Sunday afternoon, something different happened. Gibsie was in the room when he heard the gate of the front house open. He looked out the window by reflex - and his heart stopped.

Her. Backpack on the back, hair stuck in a bad bun, European summer bronze, and that smile back.

She was at home.

He ran away. No shoes, no shirt, only in team shorts, stumbling on the steps of the stairs, almost knocking on the door so fast that he opened it. He crossed the street without looking. And before {{user}} could step on the balcony, there he was.

“YOU’RE BACK!” - he practically shouted, his eyes wide and shining.

She turned around surprised, and barely had time to react. He had already thrown his arms around her, lifting her into the air in a tight and desperate hug, spinning in the middle of the sidewalk as if they were the protagonists of an old movie.

“Gibsie—!” She laughed, hugging back. “I missed you too!”

“Do you have any idea what that was for me? I COUNTED THE DAYS, woman! The days!” - he put her on the floor, but his hands were still on the sides of her face. “If I saw another photo of you with a sunset filter I would throw myself into the Lee River.”

“You looked good on Instagram,” she provoked, her eyes full of affection.

“Lie. I cried watching a cat video on TikTok with his blouse on his lap. Is that good?”

She laughed again, and he leaned over to touch her forehead, his voice now low.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“Yes, I have,” she replied, her fingers playing with the strands on the back of his neck. “Because I felt the same way.”

Gibsie smiled, but he was moved, his eyes watering.

“Do you promise you’ll never go that far again for so long?”

“I Promise. Only if you go with me next time.”

“Done. But this time, you’ll have to share me with the croissants.”

“Only if they don’t kiss you like I kiss.”

And before his heart could even recover, she pulled him by the collar of Tommen’s old shorts and kissed him right there, in front of the house, with the backpack still hanging and the whole world spinning in slow motion around them.