Page 154 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
Tears blind me, and I shake my head. “I’m your mother.”
Her face crumples through the fury, tears blurring her eyes. “I don’t know who you are, but no mother would willingly put their kid throughthis.”
Before I can reach for her, she turns, clutching at Padraig’s shirt like he’s the only solid thing left in the room. He pulls her in, arms closing around her as if he’s been waiting her whole life to hold her this way.
She buries her face in his chest, sobs shaking her small frame.
“I’ve got you,mo chroí,” he whispers into her hair. “No matter what. I’ve got you.”
I press my hand to my mouth, grief and awe colliding.
Even in her rage and confusion, Isla went to Padraig.
Straight to him.
How am I going to live with myself?
forty-five
Padraig
Three Weeks Later - Christmas Day
Christmasshouldfeelwarmerthan this.
After all, the entire McGloughlin house is full of festivity.
Brennan and Cillian, arms around their wives, talk loudly about their plans for babies on the way. Seamus beams as he passes his baby son, Elias around.
Marcella, his wife, brought her entire family this year. For the first time ever, Ma has a rival in the kitchen. Marcella’s chef sister, Rosa, has cooked every one of the Delgado Christmas delicacies. Da planted himself in the kitchen, tasting everything as it comes out of the oven while Marcella’s father tells stories about their restaurant.
Liam’s in the middle of the fray, laughing harder than I’ve seen in years at Torin, Tristan and Jude, who rip paper, shout over toys and spread the mess of joy across the floor. Lila helps Raff with his Lego tower while Teagan attempts to knock it over every time they make progress.
It should be everything I ever wanted.
Instead, I feel like crawling under a rock.
Stevie should be here.
I glance over at sullen Isla. Curled into the corner chair, eyes fixed on her phone, stubbornly pretending she doesn’t notice her mother’s absence. The test confirmed what I already knew in my bones. Isla is mine. She always was. Knowing it hasn’t made any of this easier.
Instead, it led to a fight so brutal between the two of them, Stevie told me to take her to my townhouse for a while to cool off. “A while” has turned into three weeks where she refuses to be in the same house as her mother.
I tell myself time will help. Therapy gives us tools. Patience. The younger kids absorb more than I expect, but nothing soothes the fracture. I see Stevie’s face every night, hear her voice every morning. She’s in agony. I hate she’s next door without her kids while I’m here pretending to celebrate with most of them.
Stevie and Kellan are spending his first Christmas at her parents’ house. Isla refuses to speak to her, so this was the compromise. Split up the family when she should be here andwe should be there. Every part of me aches for us to be together, messy or not, figuring it out in the open.
Instead, Isla’s anger has stretched into something seemingly unfixable.
Dinner passes by as noise swells and laughter rises around us. During dessert, I watch Seamus and Marcella slip outside with Elias and wonder how long until I can get the fuck outta here.
The front door opens. I glance up, expecting Seamus and Marcella to come back inside.
Instead, my whole body stops.
Stevie.
She steps inside with her coat open, hair swept up, cheeks red from the cold. Too familiar in this family to feel like a guest.
