Page 112 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“Cool box,” I said, crossing my legs.

“It’s my daddy’s,” he informed me. His little tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he fiddled with the latch, and he broke out in a huge smile when he got it open.

I oohed and aahed as he proudly pulled out one thing after another. An almost perfectly round rock. A friendship bracelet. A quarter. A penny. A tiny figurine wearing a helmet. A whistle. A tiny green army man connected to a parachute the size of a tissue that was carefully wrapped up.

“You want one?” Sean asked.

“I couldn’t take one of your treasures.”

“You can have one if you want.”

“That’s so nice of you, Sean,” I said, using my finger to sort through the little pile on the rug. “You know what? I think the next time I come over I should bring you something for your collection. What do you think?”

“You gonna bring me a treasure?”

“Yeah, I know just the thing,” I replied. I knew Lou had some embroidery floss at the house, and I was pretty sure I still remembered how to make a bracelet with his name on it from my days at camp.

“Okay,” he said.

“What are you guys doin’ in here?” Cian asked, walking into the room.

“Sean’s showing me his treasures.”

“That’s nice of you, Seanie,” Cian said, crouching behind him. “You still have your Lego man?”

“Yeah.” Sean handed his uncle the helmet-wearing figurine.

“This was mine,” Cian said, grinning at me. “Then it was Ronan’s.”

“Now mine,” Sean added.

“Yep, now it’s yours,” Cian confirmed, giving it back.

We sat with Sean while he gently refilled his box and set it back on the TV stand. When he was done, he hopped up and ran back to the kitchen table.

“He is so cute,” I murmured. “He looks just like Aoife.”

“He looked just like Richie when he was born,” Cian replied, helping me to my feet. “He’s still got his coloring, but he looks way more like a Kelly now.”

“He has all of your mannerisms, too,” I pointed out as Sean tilted his head in a way I’d seen Cian do about a thousand times.

“Can’t really take credit for that,” he muttered, pulling me in for a hug. He kissed my hair. “We both got some of those from Richie.”

“Thanks for inviting me to dinner,” I said, tilting my head back to look at him.

“That was all Mam,” he argued quietly. “If it was up to me, we’d be eating pizza naked in bed again.”

“I think Frankie finished off the pizza today, but I can deliver on the rest of it,” I assured him.

“We’re gonna head out,” Cian announced loudly.

“No, we’re not,” I argued, pushing away from him.

“Myla’s gotta work early.”

“Cian, I do not!”

“She’s just bein’ polite,” he said, following me back to the table. “She’s exhausted.”

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