Alec and I, well, we fell in love. That much was certain. I know you're waiting for me to go drop Spencer, quit my job, and move to Ireland and marry Alec. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. At least, not the latter.

I did break up with Spencer. I told him everything about what had happened during that over night trip and everything that had happened a decade before. He was hurt, naturally, but in the five years since then, he's found another woman who would make a much better wife than I would have.

I quit my job, too, and moved from Chicago to Dublin to get a job as a waitress at the South Dublin Café. I now own it. I live in the fairly comfortable apartment above it, alone.

I chose to stay with Alec because he was the man I'd been waiting for. Sincere, kind, and very, very sexy. We had our differences but no relationship thrives without a little work, and I was willing to put in far more than my share for him. Alec and I had decided not to get married instantly, after all, we hadn't even started dating. I think we both knew that we were each other's lasts. The wedding never happened, however; Alec died in a car accident last year. A young woman was drinking and driving, and Alec and his rusty Subaru happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nobody else was hurt in the accident, and the young woman sobered up after that. She's now faced with a lot of guilt that will haunt her for many years to come.

The funeral was simple. Alec didn't have very many relatives, so it was a small service. Some of the regulars to the Café were there, so was his mother, Siobhan, and his sister, Meghan, who had taken a few months' leave from the Celtic Step Troupe to help Siobhan, who is having back troubles. That was the first time that I had seen either of the two strong women cry. One of the most surprising guests at Alec's funeral was his father. He stood in the back and didn't say much to anyone. I heard that he had remarried and had a few more kids, but none of his new family attended. I was thankful for that. I wish that Alec were still alive to see his father after 20 years, and I am grateful that he came to the funeral to show his respect for the son he never really loved.

Alec was only 32 years old when he died. I was his first, and his last. He exists now, as a skinny, ruddy-cheeked teenager, in my memory, and one day I hope to join him in heaven one day. I know he's waiting for me, with a hearty smile on his face, near bursting with laughter at a joke that God told him.

I hope he knows that every song I sing, I sing for him.

A/N: Okay, a word of explanation. It was never really in my plans, my original notes for Alec to die. In all honesty, they never really were supposed to get back together in the first place, and there was something about a brutal bar fight with Spencer or something like that. But that's the wonderful thing about writing fiction-even if you do have a plan, it rarely goes the way you expect it to. Just like life. It was heading to a cheesy ending so I had to do something, fast. I think I failed and made ending even more cliche than it would have been, though. Anyway, it wasn't an easy decision. I almost didn't want to do it. But it had to be done. I hope you enjoyed Eire (which is Gaelic for Ireland), and will stay on board for more of my stories.