Something New 2 - Niall Horan

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c a r a

Finally, I stepped from my airplane seat and made my way into the aisle, which led to the pristine white, glassy Dublin airport, nodding a short goodbye to the flight stewardess my dream had taken on. It must have also sucked in the men she was trying to fuck, because they were rowdily exiting a few metres in front of me, just a few people away. And God, was I ever thankful for those poor souls that were forced closer to the ruckus.

"Is the U.S. nice?" I asked her, as I had stopped to let a young family toting twins in a baby carrier through, as well as two sons behind them: one around six and another half his age. The light in their eyes shone like gems, and I couldn't wait to see Noah, to be with him when he grows to that age. When his eyes would sparkle too, and have that mischievous glint that told me he was up to something.

"I'm Canadian," she frowned, taking slight offence. But her perky, plastic smile returned as more people passed her on the way to the exit.

"My mistake," I backtracked as one of the aforementioned small boys ran back to his original seat, refusing to move. "I'm not that good at placing accents," I smiled, trying my absolute best not to glance down in doubt at her exposed cleavage. Not wanting to really see how my foot tastes, I then exited and made my way towards luggage retrieval. Whoops.

I couldn't wait to see Noah, for this time away from him has affected me in the extremes. Just thinking about my babies-both of them-I felt my throat tighten, a lump forming, and my chest felt bent.

As I exited, carrying my two suitcases, I couldn't help but notice my reflection in the glass of the building: larger breasts, by at least two cup sizes-which wan't necessarily a bad thing; slightly rounded stomach, which forced me to remember the long, pinkish-purple dips in the skin from incubating a child; my thighs that were bigger than I was accustomed to; and even my face was a little chubbier.

Hopefully, Ireland has some excellent gyms. And hopefully, my breasts will stay the same size as they are now. My family has a reputation for small boobies.

Boobies.

Oh my gosh, I'm such a child.

Painted black with yellow rectangles etched on each of the sides, a folding sign at the top, and a phone number with a Dublin area code on the side, a taxi had finally pulled up; a taxi from the slightly dial-a-cab company I had decided to call. I crossed my fingers that this taxi was for me.

Everything was confirmed when, in a low, gruff voice, a man bearing a tad of resemblance to Harry with too much facial hair and a large liking of pie, rolled down the window of the taxi, my head and shoulders no longer reflected in the shining glass. "Cara Ribeiro?"

"Yep, that's me," I muttered, slightly disappointed with the reminder of my temporarily-forgotten fuck-up that I got with the mention of my last name. If I hadn't done what I did, I would still be happily living with Niall, I wouldn't be in another country, and Noah would still have his Mummy. Not to mention Niall would be my fiancé and I his-and I would no longer be a Ribeiro. I would be a Horan by next Christmas. The thought hurt me, sending pangs straight to my heart.

I lugged the two heavy cases and shoved both in the fuzzy grey boot, from which I could see both rows of seating and, I hopped in and sighed, preparing myself for the long, hour-and-a-half drive from the Dublin International.

"Mullingar, right?" His accent was strange to me, yet not. I was used to Niall's-as used to it as I could be as I was trying to block the sound of his sweet comments to me from my mind the past handful of days- but this man's voice was so noticeably different, deeper and almost monotone. I don't blame this cabby, though. I would get tired driving people long distances all day, too.