Page 87 of Promise Me This

I can be that, for both my girls.

“It’s not horrible,” I whisper. “It’s okay to feel angry. I’d be shocked if you didn’t. I’m angry, and I’m not even the one who carried her.”

She turns in my arms and looks up at me, eyes wide and so honest it breaks my heart.

“Do you think that’s where she is?” She swallows thickly, and so do I. “Heaven, I mean.”

I move to cradle her face so she cannot look away. I want her to hear these words, every honest inch of them, and absorb them into her soul.

“Leo, you and I may not get a heaven, because I can be an ornery bastard and you keep secrets like the devil. But our girls? There’s nothing but goodness and light for them, forever.”

She lets out a laugh even as tears fill her eyes. I wipe them away.

“Thank you,” she says, and it sounds a bit like a prayer. The kind you offer up when life hands you some unexpected sweetness in the midst of all the pain. Suddenly a flicker passes over her face. “You called them our girls.”

My heart skips a beat. I did, didn’t I?

I remove my glasses and drag a hand over my face. I don’t know when I started to think of Niamh as ours instead of mine. Maybe I hadn’t until this very moment. But it’s there, laid out between us, and I can’t take it back. I can only hope she feels the same.

“Do you not…do you not want me to think of Niamh as ours?”

Once the words are out, my lungs remain empty. Deflated. I can’t bring myself to draw another breath as I wait for her answer. After all, it’s the only thing we wouldn’t be able to get past. If she won’t have my daughter, then I can’t have her. Panic constricts my throat. Is it possible she doesn’t want Niamh? After everything—

“Of course I do, Callum. I just—”

I don’t let her finish her sentence. I swallow her words like they’re a breath of fresh air.

Her lips move hesitantly against mine at first, and then they part and I reach out to taste her. It’s a combination of strawberries and something intrinsically her, and I wish I could have it for every meal for the rest of my life, this taste. This relief. This euphoria.

“Callum,” she says, coming up for air.

I open my eyes to see she’s flushed with desire and probably a bit of leftover sadness. When I tuck a dark wave behind her ear, it’s red, too.

“I’m sorry, that got away from me a bit. I just thought you were upset about Niamh, and she’s my whole world. I couldn’t bear it if…” I trail off, unable to say the words.

Leo smooths a hand over my cheek, anchoring my anxious thoughts to her and this moment we’re in together.

“I love Niamh. You don’t ever have to worry about that, okay?”

I nod, and she returns the gesture, satisfied.

Her head tilts to the side as she studies my face. “Do you know last night she asked if she could keep me?”

A huff of laughter passes over my lips, even as nervous energy continues bubbling in my stomach. “And how did that make you feel?”

“Honestly?” she asks, and I nod. “It was everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m not trying to replace Niamh’s mom, nor could I ever, but I…I want to be in her life. I want to be something, anything, to her.”

They’re the exact words I needed to hear. The last piece that needed to fall into place in order for me to give myself over to her fully. After Catherine left, I thought I’d be alone forever because I’d never be able to trust a woman to love my daughter the way that I do. But I can see it there in Leo’s wide blue eyes. Even in the dim light of the attic, her love for Niamh shines through. She’s nervous, but not because she doesn’t care for her enough. It’s because she cares for her so much that the idea of not being a part of her life terrifies her.

“So does that mean we get to keep you?” I ask, grinning like a madman.

She draws her bottom lip in between her teeth. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

The joy that was my buoy moments ago sinks like a stone in my stomach. I step away from her to lean against an old wooden desk. She folds her arms around herself to replace the warmth I’ve taken with me.

“What is it?” I ask while bracing myself for the worst.

Her gaze is locked on my face, reading my every emotion. I suspect, not for the first time, that she can see down to the trenches of my soul.

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