Page 157 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
She sinks onto the bed between us, her body rigid but present. Da and Liam slip out, leaving the three of us alone.
I reach out, and after a long pause, she lets me take her hand.
A small step toward a new future.
Epilogue
Stevie - Six Months Later
Mydresshangsfromthe closet door.
I bought a simple silk sheath with a low back. No train. No corset. No lace shouting for attention. The skirt whispers when I move. The neckline sits where I can breathe.
Mom attached a thin ribbon from her own wedding dress as a belt, checking “old,” “new,” and “borrowed” off the list.
Joni pins a small sprig of a blue-violet delphinium into the low knot she coerced my hair into for the “blue” factor. “Hold still or I swear I’ll hot-glue your head to this chair.”
“So romantic.” I smile at her through the mirror.
“She heard Grandpa tell the story about Grandma’s veil catching fire on a candle.” Lila slathers on lip gloss. “I think she’s trying to create a TikTok moment.”
Mom laughs from the cedar chest as I slip the dress over my head. “No, she’s probably remembering the time I made red glitter hair bows for some school pageant. Those suckers shed for three entire Christmases.”
Her fingers shake when she ties the ribbon around my waist. She looks so proud. Her eyes, rimmed pink already, feature lines I never noticed before. I glance at the bed where Padraig and I spent our teenage years exploring our sexuality. It’s hard to believe it’s over twenty years later. Back then we didn’t have a clue the years to come would blow us sideways.
Joni squeezes my wrist. “How are you doing?”
“Good.” I smooth my dress over my hips. “Better than I thought I would be.”
Isla snorts with a snicker. “You look calm. Scary calm.”
“Must be the therapy,” I jest. “Progressfeelsreal though.”
Mom’s mouth lifts. “Progress looks real too.”
“Does progress mean not hiding in the pantry crying over a science chart,” Joni deadpans, then flinches at her own joke. “God. Too far?”
“It’s okay.” Isla laughs with ease. “Not everyone gets two amazing dads.”
Her hair falls in soft waves. A charcoal smear stains the side of her hand from last night’s sketch. She’s wearing a borrowed dress of mine after deeming the one she chose last week too “juvenile.” She and I have come a long way. We’re not perfect. We step on landmines occasionally, which is to be expected, considering.
Lila taps the gloss against her palm. “Iz, can I be nosey?”
“You always are.” She quirks a brow.
“Are you meeting Kane after?” She tries for nonchalant and lands somewhere near flashing sign.
Isla shrugs. “Maybe. Depends on what we’re all doing. A few friends have a bonfire planned, Kane said he might come if I go.”
Joni waggles her brows. “Might.”
Mom pretends to fuss with the ribbon so she doesn’t grin. I keep my face calm on purpose. Pushing works like a broken clutch with Isla; everything lurches or burns out. It’s hard to know if she returns Kane’s interest. Lila, on the other hand, can’t keep her infatuation with Isla’s suitor under wraps to save her life.
“Well, maybe I’ll tag along.” Lila twirls in front of the mirror.
Footsteps thump in the hall. Dad’s voice floats up the stairs, then a quick knock on the door. He leans in before he steps in, as if crossing thresholds requires permission in a house he paid for. His tie sits crooked like it always does, the man hates to dress up.
“You ready, kiddo?”
