Page 44 of Promise Me This

My attempt at humor barely reaches her. It’s the minor twitch of her cheek that acts as my glimmer of hope, even though it could’ve simply been a coincidence.

“You’ve made it clear you don’t want me here,” she says, and her voice sounds unspeakably sad. Hollow and cavernous. “Just get him inside and then we’ll get this over with.”

I press my lips together. She looks toward the window, pressing her forehead to the glass. I’ve been dismissed. The magnitude of the damage I’ve done hits me square in the face, and I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to undo it.

I study the curve of her delicate jaw, the swoop of the brown wave dusting her shoulder. I ache to reach out and touch her. In the same breath I wish I could wring my own neck. Here I am, staring at the only future I’ve ever been able to see for myself, and I’ve been doing everything in my power to burn it to the ground.

How will I ever teach Niamh about forgiveness when I’m this bad at giving it? At deserving it?

I exit the car and collect Padraig from the back seat. Leo doesn’t give us a second glance.

Once Padraig is safely tucked into bed—fully clothed because I don’t love him that much—I slip back into the night and lock his door behind me. I store his spare key under the doormat and walk to the car with my head hung low.

There’s no reaction as I collapse into the driver’s seat. For a moment I wonder if Leo’s fallen asleep, but then I hear a soft whimper escape her lips. It’s so, so much worse than I thought.

She’s crying.

“I’m sorry, Leo. I had no right to be upset about Colin. You are free to date whomever you want, of course—”

“I told you,” she interjects, still talking to the window, “that it was a misunderstanding. He hit on me. I left the pub. End of story.”

I let my head fall against the headrest. “I know that. I know that you wouldn’t, that you aren’t—weren’t—like that. I just…”

Her gaze cuts from the window to me, the blue turned black by the moonlight. “You just what? Got jealous?”

I nod. “I don’t know why I’m so sensitive when it comes to you.”

To my surprise, she laughs.

“Do I want to know?”

She shakes her head. “It’s just that Podge said the same thing. That you’re sensitive about me.”

I shift in my seat, feeling exposed. “And what did you say to that?”

“That he was full of shit.”

I don’t know what comes over me, what makes me think I can be so bold, but I reach for her hand where it rests on her knee, and I grab onto it for dear life. Her gaze falls to our joined hands and stays there for a long time.

“I’ve never been great at getting out of my own head.” I rub my thumb over her knuckles. There’s a new scar on the swell of the first. A story I don’t yet know but want to desperately. “Something about you, though, has always made me feel so distinctly alive. So fully present in my body. Every sensation is more intense. The good…and the bad.”

I squeeze her hand three times and then release it. “I’m sorry the only thing you’ve seen since you came back is a whole lot of bad.”

“I haven’t exactly given you a reason to show me the good.”

“All you’ve ever deserved,” I say, holding her gaze with my own, “is the very best.”

Her eyelids flutter closed, and she winces like she can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Like the very suggestion that she deserves goodness is painful for her.

“You do, Leo. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and draws in a deep breath. When her eyes open, the sadness from before has been tucked away. “Shouldn’t you be driving?”

I glance ahead at the quiet street, illuminated by a fat moon overhead. “I suppose I should.”

Houses become scarcer with every kilometer we travel. The moon is big and bright, illuminating our path with a silvery light that makes this all feel like an impossible dream. I’ve had so many like it. Dreams where Leo came home to me and we’d drive for hours like we used to, content just to be in each other’s presence once more. Something I never thought I’d take for granted. Strange to realize that’s what I’ve been doing for the past two weeks.

“Why did you come to get me?” she whispers. Her tone isn’t accusatory. It’s baffled.

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