Page 85 of Promise Me This

But it’s there inside me, like a door that’s finally been opened. I resign myself to step through it fully now that I’m finally ready to see the other side.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Callum

For about the tenth time in as many minutes, I sneeze.

The attic is dusty and disorganized, which is partially my fault. After Granda passed, when Niamh and I moved in, I simply tossed what few keepsakes we had into the darkness and didn’t bother organizing what was left behind. Now that’s coming back to bite me.

There are boxes full of photos and papers the subject matter of which I couldn’t begin to guess. If someone told me the original copies of some biblical scrolls were up here, I’d be tempted to believe them. The air is frigid, causing my breath to come out in puffs that are just visible in the beam of my flashlight.

“Shit.” I trip over a warped floorboard, pitching forward into a stack of clothes that reek of mold, and sneeze again.

“Callum! Are you up there?”

Leo’s voice drifts up from the garage below, sounding like music from this far away.

“Yeah,” I groan, my toe still aching from the sudden impact. “You can join me if you like.” If you dare, I’m tempted to add, but I refrain.

Heavy footsteps thud against the wooden ladder, and then the top of her head comes into view. The stubborn step that I’ve been meaning to fix squeaks under her weight when she hits it, and I can just barely see her eyes go wide in the dim light.

“Is this ladder safe?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

She hoists herself the rest of the way through the opening, sitting first and then drawing her legs upward. “I don’t know, because this house and everything in it belongs in a museum?”

“Everything in it?” I say, hand over my heart. “I’m flattered that you think I’m museum-worthy.”

That earns a flat look in return.

“I’d argue, but I did compare you to David, so not much of a leg to stand on there.” She squints, finally realizing I’m not upright. “Speaking of which…”

“I tripped.” Using a nearby trunk to maintain my balance, I rise. “Granda turned this space into an obstacle course.”

Her eyes glint with amusement. “Or it’s booby-trapped.”

“Knowing that old man, I wouldn’t be surprised,” I say, chuckling. She joins in while finally trusting the floorboards enough to get to her feet. I turn the flashlight toward her and drink her in.

She’s wearing a black long-sleeved shirt that’s tucked into her jeans just in the front. The pants hang off her hips and arse in a way that’s perfectly flattering and incredibly distracting. The light might be blinding her, but she smiles at me anyway, and it makes my knees weak. After so long spent denying how she makes me feel, allowing it all in is a bit overwhelming.

“Did you get a good enough look? Because the spotlight is a bit much,” she jokes.

“Fine, fine.” I drop the light, and she blinks against the sudden darkness. “I suppose you deserve to see, too.”

“Lest I fall through the hole in the floor, yes.” She steps toward me, eyeing the opening she just came through until she’s clear of it. “What are you doing up here?”

I set down the light and reach for her, pulling her flush against me and brushing a kiss over her lips. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Podge gave me a lift,” she says, jabbing her finger against my chest. “Your turn.”

I step away from her and gesture broadly to the crowded, dusty attic. “Somewhere in this mess is a Christmas tree that a certain little girl downstairs would very much like me to put up.”

“This early?” Her eyebrows rise nearly to her hairline. “You are a sucker.”

I smile and roll my eyes. “A couple extra weeks of Christmas never hurt anybody.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She scans the room, looking for anything treelike. “And besides, what the princess wants, the princess gets.”

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