Page 29 of Promise Me This

The shift in his tone hits me like a dart to the lung, letting all the air out. I realize I want him to still see me as that fun, enigmatic girl he once knew. Hell, I still want to see me like that. Even though it’s impossible, I find myself wishing for it all the same.

“What about now?” I ask, my voice hushed.

“You’re different.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Meeker than before.”

My skin prickles at the comment. “Who says I wasn’t always like this?” I reply, jutting my chin out.

He scoffs, tilting his head as if to say, Come on. “You once convinced an entire pub to take shots with you to celebrate you passing a round of exams.”

“Hardly an impressive feat in a country known for its drinking habits.”

He spreads a hand across his heart in mock offense. “Haven’t you heard how hurtful stereotypes can be?”

I roll my eyes at him, earning a grin that highlights the angle of his cheekbones sloping into the hard cut of his jaw. His gaze flickers over my face in a way that makes me both self-conscious and bold, though I’m not sure how.

“Am I really all that different?” I ask, trying to lean into the boldness.

The fog of amusement clears, leaving his true emotions bare. He’s hurt, and the sharpness of it cuts me to the core.

“You’re still you,” he mutters. I don’t know if it’s the steady hum of howling wind or the crackling of the fire or the darkness settling close around us, but he looks straight at me and I realize that he’s about to be completely honest, whether I’m ready for it or not. “You’re still beautiful; that could never change. Still a hard worker and more endearing than you have a right to be, since my best friend has clearly betrayed my loyalty to take your side.” He chuckles to himself, though the sound takes on a harsh edge. “But you’ve changed. You had to, because the person I knew wouldn’t have done what you did. Wouldn’t have dropped out of thin air without so much as a goodbye, and then shown up over a decade later like none of it happened.”

I deserve it; I know that I do. But the words slice through me all the same.

“It did happen.” I draw in a shaky breath. “And for what it’s worth, I’m so very sorry.”

He deflates like an untied balloon, and when he speaks, his voice comes out raw. “Why did you come back, Leo? After all this time.”

I gnaw at my bottom lip, gaze skirting around the room. The girls in the corner have fallen asleep at last, leaving us cocooned in this moment together. Alone in the world with only each other. I realize this isn’t the time or place for everything that has to be said, but I can’t go one more second without giving him something. Anything.

And besides, if he doesn’t hate me now, he will when he knows the truth. I’d selfishly like a few more moments like this before I have to suffer the consequences of my own actions.

“I wish I could believe that my reasons would make any sense to you, Callum.” My vision fills with unshed tears, blurring the image of sleeping guests and crackling fire and my very first love. I blink twice, bringing his face into focus once more. “But Ireland”—and what I can’t say, him—“is the place where I’ve felt most at home in my life. So when everything started falling apart, it was instinct.”

“You mean the divorce?”

I snort harshly.

He meets my gaze with confusion, and I grimace.

“Not exactly. It wasn’t any one thing, really. But when the divorce finalized, I moved home with my parents. It was meant to be temporary.” I shake my head, mostly at myself. “Then I lost my job, and all of it at once just brought up a lot of things I’d managed to bury. In all that pain, the only thing I could think to do was buy a plane ticket to yo—”

I stop myself, glancing away so I don’t have to see the shock register in his expression.

“A plane ticket to Ireland,” I say, correcting my almost-mistake. “The last place that felt truly right.”

After a long pause, he finally speaks in a voice softer than I thought him capable of. “If it didn’t feel right with the guy, why’d you marry him?”

There’s the million-dollar question. And before I can answer it, Niamh stirs between us, wiping one of her eyes as she peers up at her dad with a pitiful pout.

“Daddy, can I have some water?”

He holds my gaze for so long without replying to her that she opens her mouth to ask again. The words are poised to fall from her lips when he breaks our stare at last. “Sure, love. One second.” He rises from the couch, and Niamh stretches into the empty space he leaves behind, yawning for what feels like millennia.

Callum crosses the room and settles his hand on the doorknob, but just as he steps into the dark hallway to make his way to the kitchen, he turns to glance over his shoulder and whispers, “We’re not finished here.”

It’s everything I hope to be true, and yet, in this context, everything I dread. I nod wordlessly, a gesture that he returns, and then glance away so I don’t have to watch him leave.

“Cats are all good!”

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