Samuel’s wonderful wife, Odell, cooked for us all. She owned the diner across the road from the gym and was used to cooking for boxers. There was no give in the special diet I was on, not this close to a fight. She looked after us in a way a hotel never would. Pretty much the only time we even went back there was to sleep and grab fresh clothes.

Kieran continued to spar with me, but after a day, Samuel put me together with Leon. He was the nicest, gentlest guy I ever met, until you climbed into the ring with him. He was six feet eight inches and built like an absolute fucking tank. What he lacked in technique and footwork, he made up for in sheer blunt force trauma. Nine times out of ten, he couldn’t get near me, and we could only spar for a few rounds before he’d worn himself out. But if he ever caught me, I felt his punch for hours. If ever there was a lesson in staying fast, it was Leon. Soft fucker was always the first one to stop and help me up when he knocked me down though. Made it kind of hard to hate the guy who hit you when he was so apologetic.

Tommy brought the famous soundtrack with him, and the Southside guys mocked us, but after a couple of days, even they were skipping to the rhythm of the same tunes that kept us pumped. Danny still made me do a criminal number of push-ups and hanging sit-ups. They weren’t as much fun without Em to do the counting but she gave me something to think about as I worked through the pain.

Like most fighters, I led with my right hand. My right hook was famous, and Danny always let me lead with it. But he was learning as much as I was. Between him and Samuel, they decided to tie my right hand behind my back before putting me in the ring with Leon. Talk about a crash course in learning to lead with your left. I moved faster and harder between four ropes than I ever had before. Tying my hand was a risk. It fucked with my balance, and there was no need to read me. There was no question of which way I’d be punching, only where. In five hard fucking days, I learned to lead with both arms, and the first time I spared with Kier after that, I was all over him. He’d spent his whole life learning how to read me as a fighter. He knew my form, my technique. Shit, he knew how I’d fight depending on what mood I was in. Now he had no clue where I was coming from, and I knew then why they’d done it.

As I helped Kier up off his arse, we both smiled. Everyone did. There was electricity in the air, like something special was coming. Right now I was the underdog. The one statistically most likely to lose. But that also made me most likely to surprise people. I didn’t need people to love me or believe me. I only needed it from those I loved. Because of Em and these guys, there was absolutely nothing that I couldn’t do.

The only thing missing in all this was my wife. She would have loved meeting Samuel and Leon, and I could almost picture her perched by the ring cuddling and petting Leonard and Dempsey. No matter what I was doing, I called her every night before I went to bed. So far she said the exams were going well. I knew in Em’s code it meant she was fucking acing ’em. She had a gift for math like I’d never seen before. It wasn’t so much that she found it easy, it’s that she could see a beauty in the numbers where other people couldn’t. Maybe it’s why she understood my sport so well. Those of us who loved boxing saw a beauty in the art of the sport, where others only saw violence.

Every day the hole in my heart from missing her grew bigger. By Friday, the tension between wanting more time to train and missing her badly became meaningless. The fight was tomorrow whether I was I ready for it or not.

Chapter 26

Rest day was still spent at Southside. I’d have gone crazy just sitting in the hotel room, but the gym kept me centered and calm. Samuel taped fights almost religiously, and so we all spent most the day holed up in a tiny little room at the back of the gym watching Temple fight. I only hoped he hadn’t switched it up like I was going to.

“How are you feeling?” Em asked me that night. It was the last time I’d speak to her before the fight.

“Good,” I told her honestly. “Confident. There’s kind of a buzz like there is back home. You’d like it here.”

“You probably won’t want to work out after the fight but maybe I could come with you to see the place and meet a few of the guys?” she suggested.

Just the thought of having her there made me smile. “I’d like that.” I said.

How did today’s exam go?” I asked, and I could see her grin as she replied, “Good, I think. There were a couple of questions that I was nervous about but I worked through them when I got home, and I’m happier now with my answers.”

“You all set for tomorrow?” I asked about her morning flight.

“Are you kidding? My bag’s been packed for nearly a week. There’s no way that I’m not going to be on that plane, I promise.”

“Don’t say that. Anything could happen to stop you getting here. Look at all the shit with the weather.”

“Baby,” she said, and I could hear the laughter in her voice, “how many times today have you checked that my flight is still listed?”

I didn’t want to answer her because I knew she’d laugh. I mumbled into the phone.

“Cormac,” she pressed. Which kind of shocked me because she never called me that.

“Fine. Fourteen!” I admitted. She did actually laugh at me. I needed to hear that sound in person.

“I will be on that flight, O’Connell, I promise. The snow is almost completely gone here.”

“How are you getting to Heathrow?” I asked, worrying about her even now.

“Albie offered to drive me to the airport,” she said.

“I made sure there’s a car service at the airport to meet your flight. Earnshaw told me they’ll hold up one of those signs with your name on it. Show them your ID when you get here and they’ll bring you straight to the guys, okay?” Shit, I sounded so fucking nervous.

“O’Connell” she said to me.

“Yeah,” I answered huskily.

“You’ve got this. When you get in that ring tomorrow, know that I’m on my way to you that very minute, and I want you to fight like I’m right in front of you. You’ve been training for this, so show me what my husband is made of.”

Just like that, all the nerves and bullshit fell away, and I knew this fucking fight was mine. Now it was time to show the rest of the world that too.

* * *

Fight day, like every morning here, was bright and clear, and I itched to go for a run. Kieran and the rest of the guys were in Odell’s diner, stuffing down the American version of a full English fried breakfast. When I got back, I knew I was gonna sweet talk Kieran’s ma into cooking me up a full Irish breakfast, soda bread and all.