Page 4 of Old Flame

Years later, when I had told him how much I regretted our earlier years, he had held me and whispered against my temple, “You were always my one,stór.”

Eamon had been so charming, and I’d been so broken. All my trust and faith in men had been destroyed. First by my father and his abuse, then by the boy I’d thought I’d love forever. The one who…the one who had consumed my thoughts as I lay in bed many sleepless nights, feeling guilty because he still owned a piece of my soul.

I’d give anything to get that piece back.

A lone tear rolled down my face as the casket disappeared from my view. I’d have taken his ashes to every pub in Boston and drunk the awful beer he’d loved, like he’d wanted. However, Keira Murphy wasn’t one to be argued with. What she said was law, and I’d learned years ago that when she spoke, both her husband and son listened. Eamon would have understood that. Although I had been his wife for fourteen years, I had no control over the woman standing beside me.

For as much as Eamon had loved me…his mother did not. To begin with, I wasn’t Irish or Catholic. Then, to make matters worse, in her eyes, I was Southern. Keira had believed thatEamon would marry a Boston socialite. Not some orphan girl who was at Rhode Island School of Design on a full scholarship and had come from the small town of McIntosh, Florida. I wasn’t truly an orphan, but they didn’t know that. Not even Eamon had known the truth.

I’d held many secrets from him. But he’d always known that there was someone else. That I’d been broken when he found me.

A whimper came from my left, and I glanced over to see Keira clinging to Eamon’s father, Cormac. My chest ached every time I looked at the man. All I could think was that if Eamon had been given the chance to reach his sixties, he’d have been a replica of his father…but he’d never see past thirty-nine. The sorrow was a part of me, I’d decided.

My life wasn’t meant to be a fairy tale. There was no happy ending. I’d been dealt one bad hand after another.

People began to slowly leave as others came to speak to the Murphys and me to share their condolences. Every second that ticked by, I played a part. Being the perfect daughter-in-law and responding the way that Keira would want me to. When, in reality, I wanted to tell them all to meet me at the nearest pub. Just like in life, I’d let Eamon down. By not loving him as much as he loved me. And now, by allowing his mother to give him the funeral she wanted. Not the one he had asked for.

I’m sorry I failed you. I did love you, and I will forever mourn that we didn’t grow old together, holding hands on the front porch swing, like you imagined. You’d found me when my heart was just a pile of fragmented pieces and picked up what was left, one by one. It wasn’t your fault that I was damaged, and you loved me anyway.

You were my best friend, Eamon Murphy. You loved me when I felt unlovable. How am I supposed to navigate this life without you?

2

Salem

One Year Later

I know this isn’t an actual pub by your standards, but they have Guinness. That is all that matters, right?

Twisting the wedding ring set on my finger, I grinned, thinking about the face Eamon would make if he were here. I often talked to him in my head and then imagined his responses. It helped with the loneliness. Eamon would have called this a yuppie bar, then told me to take off the wedding rings, that I was using them as a crutch.

He would have been right. After tonight, I was taking them off and tucking both back into the velvet box the engagement ring had come in. But since I was at a bar in a strange city, I was keeping them on for now.

Paradise Brew, the name on the outside of the building, had caught my attention on my way to the hotel this afternoon. It had a funky vibe to it. Seeing as I had arrived in town hours ago for a job interview tomorrow and I knew little of the city, I’d wanted to find a bar that was close to my hotel and didn’t look sketchy. The bar scene really wasn’t my thing, but today, I had to drink a Guinness. Paradise Brew had seemed like a safe place to do that.

The live band that was performing tonight sounded like a possible distraction for me, but I knew I wouldn’t stay longenough for them to take the stage. I was alone in a new city. That would be stupid. Sure, I’d grown up in Florida, but it had been in a small town north of here. Miami was not small or quaint. It would have been intimidating to the girl who had left Florida eighteen years ago. The thirty-seven-year-old me had lived in Savannah, Rhode Island, and then eventually Boston where I’d stayed the past sixteen years. I could handle it. And I was aware of the dangers of being out alone at night.

I’d been thankful for the job interview coming when it did. This wasn’t a day I wanted to sit inside the house that had been our home…remembering. The tears had dried up, and I was finding my way in the world again without having a partner. I missed Eamon every day, and that would never go away, but I was ready to live a life again. Instead of just going through the motions.

Having a pint of Guinness was more than I could handle. I’d never get it choked down. Instead, I’d ordered a respectable glass of the black stuff, and I did a silentsláinteto Eamon.

To us. What we had. I hope it’s truly beautiful on the other side. Side note: can you believe I’m in Florida? I swore I’d never come back, yet, without you…I’m lost.

New England wasn’t home with Eamon gone. I was tired of walking into our house and being the only one there. It was like living in an echo that went on forever. The same thing every day. I was on autopilot and had been for a year.

Picking up the mug of beer, I scrunched my nose and took another drink. Yuck. I hated this stuff, but if Eamon was watching me from wherever he was now, then this would give him a laugh. We both needed it today. Twelve months since he’d taken his last breath while I held his hand. His last words, weak and a struggle for him to get out, still haunted me. I wanted to forget them. Pretend he’d said something else, yet like all things in life, Eamon had said exactly what he was thinking.

I just wished he hadn’t been thinking that in his last momentson earth. I’d beaten myself up over it so many times this last year that it was my closest friend now. The guilt of not being able to hide all my wounds, yet never sharing them with him had become a weight I carried around my neck. He’d known anyway.

“We have some real nice cocktails that you might enjoy more than that beer you’re trying to drink,” a female voice said, jerking me out of the deep thoughts I’d been letting take my mood down.

I lifted my head to see a blonde woman—with tight jeans, cowboy boots, and a black halter top that hadParadise Brewstretched across the front of her chest—smirking at me. She had one hand on her hip, and although she was gorgeous, she had a badass presence. It was an interesting combination. One of her eyebrows slightly rose in question, and I realized I’d been staring at her.

Feeling slightly embarrassed by that and the fact that someone had noticed me struggling to drink this beer, I gave her a sheepish smile and scrunched my nose.

“I have no doubt. It wouldn’t be difficult to make a cocktail that tasted better than this,” I quipped.

She let out an amused chuckle. “Please tell me this isn’t your first time drinking. If so, let me guide you to other options.”

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