Page 10 of Promise Me This

The worst part about having an almost five-year-old for a best friend is that no one is around to distract me after nine o’clock. Theoretically earlier, but after she’s asked for at least three glasses of water that she doesn’t drink over the course of an hour, she finally drifts off to sleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I have those thoughts to thank for the two bruise-like bags bulging underneath my eyes this morning. Once Niamh drifted off at last and my duties as her father ceased for a while, I found myself falling through memories in rapid succession. Memories I haven’t let myself revisit in years.

There was the time I spent a whole day trying to convince Leo that black sheep were in fact real and not just metaphors, driving through endless farmland until dusk shrouded our view of the flocks. All the fuzzy black bastards made a fool of me that day, hiding in plain sight, as if they were on Leo’s team instead of mine.

I found myself reclining on the roof of a crumbling bit of ruins in a cemetery at the top of a hill. “The only place in Ireland where you can see three counties from one spot,” I’d proudly told Leo. Her eyes swam with wonder as she gazed out over the fields, tracing the patchwork of their borders with a fingertip gliding through the air. It was the first time she kissed me, her lips sweet and wind-chilled when they covered mine.

Then I was inside her, enveloped in the warmth of her embrace once more, listening to the soft moans she tried to suppress as I made love to her in my bed. The walls in that manor were so thin, I’m sure everyone could hear us. But I didn’t mind then. It still fills me with a spark of pride now, thinking back, knowing that everyone else knew she was mine and I was hers.

That spark becomes a flame that fills my lungs with smoke, choking me on the memory of goodbye. I still had hope then, as I watched her walk toward airport security. She threw a reassuring smile over her shoulder, and I let myself believe she meant it when she said she’d come back to me.

But she didn’t come back. And I can’t forgive her for that.

Mam texted to cancel Sunday dinner yesterday after our chat, citing a long list of check-ins to prepare for, which left me alone with my thoughts and a four-year-old for far longer than is healthy. Staring at the door all afternoon waiting for Leo to return, not sure if I was hoping or dreading, followed by my unplanned trip down memory lane last night still has my nerves feeling raw and unsteady as I drive to the inn. I slam too hard into a pothole, eliciting a cry from Niamh. I miss my turn and have to circle back. I nearly flatten one of Eoin’s sheep in the process.

By the time I’m parking in front of Mam’s place, Niamh is practically racing to get out of the car. “Are you trying to kill me? Or just that sheep?” She stomps up the steps, pushing open the large wooden door with a grunt and a glare thrown over her shoulder.

“Just myself,” I grumble under my breath, locking the car before following her inside.

“Granny! Daddy almost hit a sheep!”

“Did he now?” Mam calls from the kitchen. We make our way down the hall, finding her there dropping a dollop of fresh cream into a ramekin. She wasn’t kidding about having a full house, given the breakfast spread she’s prepared. The scent of bacon floods my nose, and before she can stop me, I’ve swiped a rasher from the nearest platter and downed it. She levels a hard stare my way. “He actually did hit one when he was just learning to drive. The poor thing had to be—”

“Mam!” I slap a hand over each of Niamh’s ears.

“What?” She’s the picture of innocence, shrugging at me and then making wide eyes at Niamh. “I’m just telling the truth. You shouldn’t lie to children, you know.”

“You lied to me all the time!” I groan, releasing Niamh at her insistence. She skips over to the cupboard where her stepping stool is kept, retrieves it, and sets it up next to Mam.

“Name one time.” She points at me with the knife she’s using to scoop jam from the jar, stopping my hand midreach for another rasher.

I swipe it quickly, dodging her advance. “Remember when you told me our dog went to live on a farm?”

She scoffs, caught red-handed, then swiftly changes the subject. She glances down at Niamh, who’s busy at work preparing a scone for herself with generous dollops of cream and jam. “Didn’t you ever teach him to chew with his mouth closed?”

Niamh sighs too heavily for a child her age, shaking her head. “I do my best.”

“On that note I’ll be running to the bathroom and then leaving you two to it. Unless you have any other insults or embarrassing stories for me?” I ruffle Niamh’s hair, further loosening the already crap plait I attempted this morning.

She glances up at me. “Well, your hair is getting a bit shaggy…like a sheep’s.”

“You two deserve each other,” I say, placing a kiss on Mam’s wrinkled cheek. “See you tonight!”

“See you tonight!” they call in unison, already ignoring me with their heads tucked close together as I leave the room.

Chapter Five

Leona

Exhaustion is one hell of a drug, helping me sleep longer and more soundly than I have in months. I cling desperately to the void of endless slumber, but eventually reality drags me out of it kicking and screaming.

Literally.

My memory of the nightmare fades faster than I’m able to grasp it, leaving me panting and confused. I blink my way into awareness, taking in my surroundings. Floral wallpaper. Racing heart. Exposed beams. Sweaty palms. Open window.

Oh God, the window. Half the town probably heard my cries. I scramble to my feet, pad across the threadbare rug, and tug the window shut. A cursory scan of the street reassures me it’s early enough in the morning that most people are not yet out and about. The few early risers ambling past look none the wiser, lost in whatever audiobooks or playlists fill the headphones tucked into their ears.

I flatten my hand against my chest. Poppy’s amulet presses into my palm, reassuring me of her presence. After five rounds of measured breathing, I finally feel stable enough to make my way to the door. As the only room on this level, I have to travel down to the second-floor landing to use the bathroom. Two knocks assure me it’s empty, so I push my way in and lock the door.

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