Page 1 of Promise Me This

Prologue- 12 Years Ago

Leona

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the city was on fire.

From this vantage point, the streetlamps and illuminated windows blur together into a sea of shimmering embers, like the remnants of a dying flame. I glance over at Callum, at the hard set of his jaw and the tenderness in his eyes.

So not a dying flame then, rather one that’s just getting started.

“Worth breaking the rules for?” The corner of his mouth twitches as he speaks. His gaze hasn’t left the valley; I can see the twinkling lights of Dublin dancing in the wetness that pools at the precipice of his lashes. Sadness has been hovering at the edges of the evening since we left the manor, threatening to spill over the dam of joy we’ve built up. We both know what’s coming. We just want to put it off as long as we can.

I retrieve his hand from the gearshift, twining our fingers together and squeezing three rapid pulses. He’s referring to the gate at the base of the mountain that he made me jump out of the car to push open, something enough other cars have done to join us at the viewpoint that my fears of breaking the law have eased. “Always is with you.”

He chokes on a half laugh, half sob before wiping his nose with his spare hand and clearing his throat. “What am I going to do without you, Leo?”

My eyebrows lift of their own volition, but I choose to be nice and not chastise him for the despised nickname. It’s our last night together, for a while anyway. The least I can do is let him get his way for once.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” A gust of wind jostles the car, bending trees and each blade of grass on its journey into the city below. “Perhaps you’ll actually get enough sleep for once and your uncle can stop hating me for keeping you out all hours of the night.”

In sync we glance at the clock on the dashboard. Seeing that it’s just past eleven, I add, “Starting tomorrow night.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He doesn’t like it when I talk about life after I leave. He can’t seem to fathom that I mean it when I say I’ll come back.

Freeing my hand from his, I grab ahold of his chin, pressing my thumb into the familiar indent of the scar there. It’s a permanent memento from his time playing GAA, some violent Irish sport I still don’t understand despite the hours he spent trying to explain it to me.

“Hey,” I whisper. His long lashes flutter as he finally lets himself look over at me. Why does God always give the best lashes to men? They bring his beauty to a whole other level, when he’s already too pretty for his own good. “We’re happy tonight, remember? You promised me. No sadness till the morning.”

His gaze sobers, those bright green eyes studying my face intently as if he’s committing it to memory. “Easy for you; you’ve had enough sangria to tranquilize a horse.”

We both giggle. His is the steady rumble of thunder under my tinkling wind chime of a laugh.

“You took me to a Spanish restaurant; what did you expect?”

“I’ll tell you what I didn’t expect was for those prawns to still have eyes when they got to our table.”

The mental image of him splashing his white shirt with shrimp guts as he attempted to behead them flashes in my mind, making it harder to maintain any semblance of composure.

He glares at me, trying not to show he’s just as amused. “It wasn’t funny! No food should be able to look at you!”

Laughter pools in my belly, mixing with the alcohol to drown out the sourness of knowing this is the last time we will be here, like this. For a while anyway. I unclip the seat belt and turn, hoisting myself clumsily over the center console and into the back seat. My black dress rides up, probably flashing him, but he isn’t complaining.

He’s staring at me now, in that heavy way he does. It settles like a weighted blanket over me, cocooning me in its warmth. I pat the seat beside me, holding his gaze all the while. “Come on back. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

He glances over my head, through the rear window. “There are other cars here.”

“And they’re all too busy in their own back seats to care what we do in ours.”

“You’ve got a point.” He doesn’t hesitate a second longer, clumsily forcing his significantly larger body through the narrow gap between the seats. When he lands with a solid thud next to me, he’s flushed from the effort.

I reach down, sliding one high heel off and then the other. They weren’t the most practical choice in footwear, I’ll admit, though I had no way of knowing our walk from the street where we parked to the restaurant would be entirely comprised of centuries-old cobblestones. Walking back was all the more difficult after the alcohol had flooded my system. A summer spent living here hasn’t cured me of my surprise at how ancient even the most mundane of things—such as roads—can be. At least by American standards.

Pivoting in my seat, I hoist one leg over him and settle onto his lap. He dutifully grabs onto my hips, holding me in place. If I look up, I’ll probably see another car behind us with a couple just as enamored. But I don’t look up; I’m too busy memorizing Callum’s face.

His blond curls are growing out, framing his ears and falling across his forehead. I tangle my fingers in them, earning the groan that passes through his parted lips. His angular jawline is covered with a dusting of scruff. In the final days, who has time for things like shaving and haircuts? That only takes away from the small bank of time we have left to spend together.

“How will I say goodbye to you?” His voice is a strangled whisper, desperate and pleading. I try to swallow around the knot forming in my throat, to no avail. He reaches for the long brunette wave that’s fallen over my shoulder, and tucks it back behind my ear. The tenderness is enough to shatter me.

“You won’t.” I fight for a gasp of air. When did breathing become difficult? Where did all this moisture come from? He swipes a calloused thumb across my cheek, wiping away the evidence. “You won’t say goodbye, Callum. Just ‘see you later.’ You’ll see, it’ll be May before you know it. Then we’ll be together again for another summer. Then one more year and I’ll graduate, and I’ll be here permanently. It’ll all happen so fast you’ll wish you’d had more time alone, because once I’m yours, I’m yours forever.”

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