Page 13 of Promise Me This

“She’s not going anywhere,” Siobhan says, drawing her son’s attention like a cracked whip.

He balks at her. “The hell she’s not.”

“The hell she is.” His mom crosses her arms, planting her feet firmly in defiance. Early morning sunbeams stream in through the window behind her, framing her in an aura of light. I’ve got to hand it to her; despite being half his size, she’s not one bit intimidated by her son. “You’re not running off my much-needed employee.”

“Your what?” Callum and I say in unison. My eyes widen, confusion clouding my thoughts. As if they needed any more scrambling.

“That’s right. I’ve hired her as a housekeeper to help me keep up with demand.” She raises an eyebrow at Callum, daring him to disagree. “I can’t be cleaning these rooms by myself any longer; I’m too damn old.”

His glare moves from her to me. I’m not sure what game Siobhan is playing, but suddenly I’m desperate to be on her team. Besides, until two minutes ago I was thirty-two and unemployed. Not a good look.

“Come on, Callum. I’ll stay out of your hair,” I plead. My pride hates me for it, but I’m in no position to be anything but humble.

“Not likely,” he bites out.

I try to mask my wince by shifting to face Siobhan, eyebrows furrowed in a desperate plea for further assistance.

“Niamh stays with me during the day while Callum works,” Siobhan explains. She abandons her post at the kitchen counter, grabs a scone from the platter on the table, and takes a bite. For her, at least, the argument is over.

“Apparently that free labor wasn’t enough,” he mumbles.

“She’s four!” Siobhan says around a mouthful of food.

“Almost five,” he corrects.

“I won’t bother you; I promise. I’ll walk the other way when you enter a room. I won’t speak to you. You’ll barely notice I’m here.” I don’t have a clue how I’m going to accomplish what I came here to do while fulfilling that promise, but at least the space will give me time to come up with a plan.

The corners of his eyes turn down as a bone-deep weariness fills his expression. My hands ache to reach for him, to draw him close and let him sink into me in a move as familiar as my own existence.

But the time for that is past, as he said. I don’t deserve those pieces of him any longer. He’ll go home to Niamh’s mother, and she’ll be his comfort, as she should be.

With a curt nod, he pivots on his heel, heading toward the door I’m guarding. “I’ll see you this evening, Mam,” he says as he exits the room. His arm brushes mine in passing, filling my lungs with sand.

When it’s just us left in the kitchen, Siobhan settles her amused gaze on me and sighs. “Sorry for him. Despite my best efforts, he’s still got a bit of his father in that stubborn brain of his.” She pats the seat beside her. “Come have some breakfast.”

My gaze flickers from her to the door Callum just escaped through and back. “Um, Siobhan, now might be a bad time to tell you, but I can’t legally work. I don’t have a visa. I’m just here as a tourist.”

“Not a problem,” she says, shrugging. “You’ll get free room and board and a bit of cash under the table.”

I shift my weight. “Without a visa, I can only stay in the country a maximum of three months.”

“I’ll take three months of help over zero any day.” She pats the chair beside her once more. “Come eat.”

Forcing my legs to move, I stumble across the room. When I’m finally seated next to her, she passes me a plate from the stack in the center, winking at me as I take it.

“I, for one, have always wanted a ghost in my bed-and-breakfast. Attracts the tourists.”

Chapter Six

Callum

Istare at the computer for the appropriate amount of hours, albeit with none of the necessary focus to do my job, as the clock ticks steadily toward the end of the workday. It’s not my fault, I reason. It’s hers.

True to her word, shocking as that may be, I didn’t see Leo when I picked Niamh up last night or dropped her by this morning. And after Mam caught the few cursory glances I tossed toward the staircase, a glint in her eyes telling me she was reading too far into it, I’ve heavily considered parking at the curb this evening and waiting for Niamh to come outside.

I roll my shoulders, willing the tension to eke out of the muscles there. I’m not going to let Leo disrupt my life. Not again. I’m a grown-ass man, a father, for Christ’s sake. I can march into that bed-and-breakfast and retrieve my daughter without trying to catch a glimpse of those familiar brunette waves or straining my ears for the musical lilt of her voice drifting down the hall.

Elbows braced on my desk, I let my forehead fall against my calloused palms. This shouldn’t be so fucking difficult.

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