Page 49 of Promise Me This

“Be faster, Daddy!” she replies before ducking through the entrance. The last thing I see is a flash of her unraveling plait, and then the door snicks closed.

“Yeah, Daddy, be faster,” Padraig teases. He’s walking up the sidewalk with his hands stuffed into his tracksuit pockets, looking a tad worse for the wear. Two bold purple bags hang under his eyes. His hair is disheveled in some places, matted in others.

“First of all, I told you only to call me that in private.” We both arrive at the door at the same time, and I clamp down on his shoulder. “Second, you look like hell. I can’t believe you let an American girl drink you under the table.”

“Would you be quiet with that? I have a hard enough time finding a date without adding a rumor that I’m a lightweight to the mix.” He grabs my face and plants a kiss loudly on my cheek, drawing the attention of two grannies walking down the street opposite us who quickly glance away. “There, your punishment. Now we’re a couple, Daddy.”

I wipe my cheek with a disgusted groan. “You’re a terrible kisser.”

“You’re a terrible friend!” He crosses his arms and gives me a once-over. “It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since you dropped me at my gaff and ran off with Leona, and I’ve yet to receive an update on what happened in my absence.”

Now I’m really checking our surroundings for prying eyes. I remove my glasses, cleaning them with the corner of my shirt, while I contemplate how much I’m willing to share.

“Holy shit, did you shift her?” Padraig asks, mouth agape.

“What the fuck are we, twelve? No, I didn’t shift her.” I replace my glasses so I can glare at him properly.

“Well, something happened.” He points at my face. “You always do the glasses thing when you’re nervous.”

“I do not,” I say, adjusting them on my face. Guess I do. I sigh heavily, glancing around a final time before lowering my voice. “We didn’t kiss, I swear. We almost did, but I stopped it before it got that far.”

“Ah, go on, lad!” His face is lit up with glee, every wrinkle around his eyes showing with how broad his cocky grin is. It falls a fraction when my words catch up to his excitement. “Wait, what? Got that far? That’s literally first base, Cal.”

“You know I hate when you call me that.”

He shrugs. “And I’m not scared of you, so deal with it.” He leans against the stone facade of the inn, crossing his arms over his chest. “So tell me about this almost kiss? Had to be good; you’re practically glowing.”

“I brought her back to my place after dropping you off. Just to clear the air.” He gives me a look. “Okay, to apologize for being a huge asshole; is that what you wanted to hear?” He nods, and I fight the urge to smack the smirk off his face. I might, if he weren’t right on top of being smug. “But we got to talking about Catherine and Leo’s career, and then we wound up discussing the past. Our past.”

I shake my head, at a loss for words to describe what came next.

My fingertips still buzz with the feel of her hair between my fingers. If I focus hard enough, the scent of oranges and lemons still surrounds me. The same shampoo after all this time. I wonder for a selfish moment if she kept using it because I once told her how enticing the scent is. It makes my chest swell with pride.

But it’s the memory of her skin against my lips, her breath coming out in short rasps, that burns deep in my gut. The way she pulled me to her, clinging to me like she couldn’t get close enough, her breasts swelling against my chest…

I need to stop this thought in its tracks, or I’ll end up with a boner at Sunday dinner.

When I come back down from cloud nine, Padraig’s eyeing me with a look I can’t place.

“What?” I ask, embarrassed at how hoarse my voice sounds.

He shakes his head. “I’m just happy for you, man. You’ve been licking the wounds Catherine gave you for too long now. It’s about time you let yourself be happy again.”

With a groan, I smooth a hand over my hair and then let my thumb and forefinger find my temples, pinching them lightly.

“What?” Padraig snaps, shifting his weight. “You haven’t already ruined it, have ya?”

“No, it’s just…” How do I convey the turmoil going on in my brain? The worries are so numerous I counted them instead of sheep in order to finally get some rest after tucking Niamh in last night. Or early this morning. Time has lost all meaning for me.

He waits, and I decide an incomplete thought is better than none.

“It’s just that I have a kid now. I have to think about how this will affect her. If Leo up and leaves again, how will Niamh handle that?” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat in an attempt to cover it up. The flash of pity in my friend’s eyes tells me he heard it anyway. “It’s been hard enough on me to deal with both of them leaving me. How much worse would it be for Niamh if she lost two mothers?”

I clamp my mouth shut as soon as the words leave my tongue. Who said anything about Leo being Niamh’s mother? I’m racing so far ahead of myself that I’ve crossed the finish line before the gun’s gone off.

Padraig snickers, as if he too knows this, but clears his throat to cover the sound.

I glare at him, but only because I’m incapable of glaring at myself. It’s an unsatisfactory substitute for self-loathing.

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