Break the internet, he said. It'll be fun, he said. By the time they'd finished their bath and other suds-filled activities, Norman's phone had exploded with missed calls and texts - all wanting to know who the mystery woman was. The picture on his Instagram, in which he had just tagged with a fire emoji, had nearly 2 million likes and close to 80,000 comments already. Meg was shocked at the level of vitriol levelled at her, or rather, the woman in the picture, by some of his followers. Apparently she was too fat, too skinny, too old, too edgy, way too tatted up, and obviously too slutty for precious Norman Reedus. But, there were also a great many that seemed to either think this was one of Norman's photo projects, or just accepted that he might actually have found someone. She was most surprised at how many seemed to be moved by the rawness of the photo and the thoughtful comments about the two scars that could be seen.

Meg sent him downstairs to be with his friends, because she knew they had work to get planned and she needed to get her route set for the next leg of her journey. She was planning to spend a couple of nights on the road before getting to Santa Fe and needed to find lodging.

Early afternoon, she threw on her faded jeans and Sex Pistols tee and went out to grab some takeout. The St. Patrick's Day parade would be starting in about 3 hours and people were already starting to claim their spots along the route. She popped into Mahoney's and got a fried crawfish po-boy and a bag of onion rings. On the way back to the house, she discreetly uncorked a vial of ashes and poured little amounts amongst the roots of the giant trees lining the picturesque street that would soon be filled with the Irish and Irish-for-tonight.

Entering the gate, she rounded the corner and ran straight into Greg, Norman's friend.

"Hey, sorry about that," she said, moving to the side.

"No problem. Looks like you had the same idea we did." He said motioning to the bag of food.

"Yeah, can't watch the parade on an empty stomach." She turned to start towards the stairs.

"Hey," he said and she stopped and turned around. Her eyebrows rose letting him know he should continue. "Look, whatever it is that you and Norman got going on is your business..."

"Sure is," she agreed.

"But he's my best friend, so I just have to say my piece. It's been more than a decade since a woman has meant more to him than arm candy, and here he is acting like a lovesick schoolboy with someone he's known for less than 3 days. I mean for Christ's sake, that Instagram photo contained more intimacy than I shared my whole marriage..." he paced a couple of steps and ran his hand through his long hair before looking back at her. "I had a check ran on you, no offense, I just wanted to make sure you weren't some stalker nutcase."

"Of course, it's what any good friend would do," Meg says and somehow manages to not roll her eyes.

"The coincidences were just too much. My guy said you had to've been a spook, because your life after leaving the SEALs is the most vanilla ever on paper — it had to've been orchestrated. Sure, it says you were a CIA analyst and trainer. Yet, besides your immediate family, there're no lifelong friends, no social media, nothing. He did say it appears you have plenty of your own money so I guess you aren't out to use him for that."

"What exactly is your point, Greg? No offense, but my sandwich is getting cold."

"My point is that I was hoping there'd be something I could use to convince him that you were just another fan girl only interested in his fame... but now I wonder if maybe you actually do like him."

Meg held eye contact with Greg for several beats, and just when it was about to be uncomfortable, she smiled. "You're a good friend and that's a trait I admire. I can't promise that Norman won't get hurt in some way from whatever's happening between him and me, but I can promise you that if he does — it won't be because of his fame or his money. I can also promise you that this is not one-sided. I like him very much, as well... but even if we were to stay in touch I'm not emotionally capable of anything more than what's charmingly referred to as 'friends with benefits'."

He nodded at her and this time when they turned away from one another they each finished their journey.

            ____________________________________________

Half an hour before the parade start time, Norman knocked on her door. She opened it and he pulled her into his arms for a promising kiss.

"I guess it's pointless for either of us to say 'Kiss me, I'm Irish', eh?" she giggled.

"Will you come downstairs to watch the parade with us?" he asked and there was so much hope in his face. He was leaning one forearm on her door jam and twisting a piece of his hair around his finger. He looked so damn cute in his distressed denim jeans and Fleetwood Mac t-shirt that was tight around his shoulders. She felt the familiar warmth spread through her belly. "The guys wanted me to come ask."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the second floor balcony is perfect. There's twinkling lights hung everywhere, and we've got buckets of shamrock beads. It'll be fun."

Meg looked at him and wondered if this had anything to do with her conversation with Greg earlier. She knew there was a danger in this... getting to know his friends. But, he was leaving tomorrow and there was a sense of desperation on both their parts to make the most of the time they had left, so she found herself saying, "Okay, but I'm bringing my own wine." She didn't bother changing, wearing her faded jeans, white tank top, and green beads. She was also barefoot and her hair was loose and curly.

Downstairs, they joined the guys who were already on the balcony. Meg was carrying her decanter filled with the Camus she'd bought the day before, and an empty wine glass. Setting them on the counter, she joined the gang in looking down over the railing and began carrying on conversations with the people gathered on the sidewalks down below.

It wasn't long before the street was filled with music and laughter. The crowds were rowdy and drunk, and of course a beautiful red-haired woman like Meg attracted lots of attention from below. More than once a randy young man tried to climb the balcony to get a kiss from a true Irish lass, but Norman was always there to pour a beer down on their heads. Justin and Stan did manage to talk a few lovely revellers to join them and the party was on. Meg was feeling a little tipsy, as she finished off her bottle of wine, and she sat on one of the chairs and watched as two of the young ladies cornered Norman. They were fans, obviously, and he was being very nice by taking multiple pictures with them.

Looking back down at the street, she smiled at the group of twenty or so men dressed up in costumes to look as if they had tiny leprechauns carrying them drunkenly through the streets. They were having so much fun and she felt laughter bubble up from deep inside that just as suddenly turned into a sob, shocking her to her core. Meg felt so thankful to Doug that because of him she was here, right here, at this very moment. She also felt like she was betraying him at the same time. Because as she watched the next group of parade participants who were dressed as the characters from the movie The Quiet Man re-enact the pub brawl scene, she realized that there was not even a tiny part of her being that wished that it was Doug there with her instead of Norman.

Straightening her spine, Meg turned to find him talking to Greg and a couple more young ladies. She got up and walked straight to him and pulled him into a kiss. Looking over to those closest to them she bowed her head.

"I'm sorry. Tomorrow Norman can go back to belonging to the world. Tonight he belongs to me." She looked over at him and raised her eyebrow. He just nodded once and pulled her out of the room.

            ____________________________________________

The sex was very different that night. There was lots of hand holding and eye contact, and both took lots of time to touch each other's scars, tattoos, and all the other unique features of their bodies. Norman asked about every scar, and Meg told him the stories she could remember. They both told tales about their childhood and parents, and Norman went into more detail about his relationship with his son.

The periods of conversation and sex intertwined until nearly 2 a.m. until they fell into an exhausted sleep with their legs entwined and her head in the crook of his arm.

A few hours later Norman woke needing to use the restroom. On his way back, he nearly knocked the bedside table over and caught it just in time, but not before a small leather journal tumbled to the floor. He leaned over to pick it up and a folded piece a paper fluttered out.

Picking it up, he looked over to where Meg was still sleeping soundly. He fought a small battle in his head before opening it up to see a list with a few items crossed out:

Mid-life Mission – things I want to do before I'm too old:
Harley ride across America
St. Patrick's Day parade in New Orleans
Go to a Biker Rally
Sleep under the stars
Skinny dip – in the ocean, in a lake, and in a river
Dance in the rain
Eat in a Route 66 diner
Dirty dance in a bar
Sing on stage with a live audience
Make friends with a complete stranger
Drink really expensive whiskey and wine
Learn to use a bow and arrow
Make love – in a waterfall, in a cornfield, in a sleeping bag, in front of a roaring fire, and in a penthouse suite
Fall in love again
Buy a house in the Rocky Mountains

Carefully he folded the paper back up and put it inside the journal and then crawled back in the bed behind her, but turned his back towards where she lay. In a way, the list made a lot of sense about why Meg was out wandering the country on a Harley. He'd had his suspicions that her 'retirement' had been brought on by nearly dying, although she hadn't come right out and said so.

But the list also upset him in a way that he wasn't prepared for. Was she really planning to walk away from him and find someone else to fall in love with, and make love with in all those different places? Why did she constantly warn him against developing feelings for her when she clearly wanted to find someone? She could deny it until she was blue in the face, but he knew she was growing attached to him, so why not just embrace it?