Page 139 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
She sniffles. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel.”
“You’re notsupposedto feel anything in particular.” Padraig leans forward. “You feel whatever you feel. I’m here no matter what. And, if you want me to say ‘feel’ again say the word.”
This earns a smile through the tears.
I open my arms. “Come here, baby. Give me a snuggle.”
She hesitates for half a second before sliding toward me. Padraig shifts closer, wrapping one arm around both of us until we’re a giant tangle on the couch. Isla hides her face in my shoulder, breathing unevenly. I stroke her hair, and Padraig presses a kiss to the top of her head.
For a long moment, none of us move.
The air feels steadier, anchored. She leans back between us, her head between our shoulders. We hold her until the tremors fade, anchored together in the quiet.
“We’ll figure it out together,” I tell her.
She nods, tucking her legs up under her.
It’s a solemn reminder.
My kids lost their father too young.
As much as I’d love to protect them.
His loss will remain an ache for the rest of their lives.
forty-one
Padraig
Six Months Later
Thetable’sbeencleared,but the chaos clings.
An empty trifle bowl streaked with berry and cream and a constellation of sticky handprints no one’s owning up to.
Across the room, Stevie’s corralled the girls helping with cleanup. Isla clears plates to load into the dishwasher with theatrical sighs while Lila sings into the silverware. Fromthe kitchen, I see glimpses of Ronni and Stevie wrapping up leftovers, laughing about something I can’t hear. Seamus’s girlfriend hands plates to Ma like she’s done it a hundred times.
The rest of the us are sprawled out in the living room with full bellies and unfinished stories. The whole house glows.
Rafferty’s knocked out against my chest, limbs slack, cheek smushed to my collarbone. I shift him higher, as I brace myself on the arm of Da’s chair.
Ma’s pulled it off again. Over twenty-one people are stuffed to the brim, and I doubt she broke a sweat.
Connor’s on the floor with the twins, baby Teagan in the crook of his arm, trying to keep them from launching half-eaten mince pies into the fire. Seamus leans back against the sofa next to Liam and Cillian, who looks lighter. Clear eyed. His laughter doesn’t sound forced. In fact, his dry wit has kept Liam quiet for a full ten minutes.
Then he flicks his glance toward me.
Stevie and the girls emerge from the kitchen and plop down cross-legged in front of the hearth. Lila tucks into her side and Isla sits quiet beside her. Jude spins in a slow circle, making spaceship noises, oblivious to the tension climbing in my shoulders.
I already know what’s coming.
Liam stands and crosses over toward me. Stands in my space, arms folded like he’s holding himself together with nothing but spite and soda water.
I hand Raff to Stevie, kissing his hair before I turn. “You’ve been staring a hole in my head for the last hour.”
My comment breaks the tension wide open.
Liam straightens. “We finally getSNL.”
