Page 152 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
No, this is about Isla. My girl’s already lost the father she thought was hers. I have to protect her when the truth she never asked for comes crashing in.
My phone slips from my hand to the mattress. I bury my face in Kellan’s neck and sob again, because I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if Padraig will stand beside me to try. Inadvertently, I may have pushed him right out of my life, this time for good.
The sky outside the window bleeds gray when the door opens. My whole body tenses.
Padraig slips into the room before dawn, quiet as though he doesn’t want to wake me. My eyes are open anyway, raw fromcrying. Kellan shifts against my chest and I press my palm over his small back as if I can shield us both.
He stands there a moment, shoulders slumped, shadows carved into his face.
His eyes find mine in the half light. “What are we gonna do, Stevie?”
Tears rise again before I can stop them. “I don’t know. I failed you. Both of you. I swear to God, I never knew. Now…it’s all I see. Every expression, every silence, every bone in her body. It’s you. It wasalwaysyou.”
Padraig stares at the floor like he’s holding the weight of sixteen years on his back.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it. I don’t know how I let you miss her whole life.”
He exhales through his nose, slow and heavy. “What do we do now?”
“We have to put our own feelings aside, I think. Stop pretending we have a choice.” I clutch our son tighter against me. “We put her first. No more secrets. No more protecting ourselves—well, me.”
His gaze flicks to mine, torn.
“I can’t go dress shopping today for a wedding we shouldn’t have. Not when everything’s broken open,” I continue. “I want your opinion on this, but I think Isla deserves to know immediately. She’s not a child anymore. We ask our moms to watch the kids and we sit down with her. Together. Before we do anything else. The three of us.”
Padraig’s shattered groan catches in his chest. “She’s going to hate us.”
“None of this is your fault. She’ll hate me for a while, not you. You’ll need to be there for her, whatever it takes.” My voice wavers at the thought of hurting my eldest child but I pushthrough. “She needs to know we didn’t shut her out when we realized the situation. At the end of the day, she comes first.”
The air thickens between us until he finally nods.
Not agreement, not forgiveness. The faintest thread of resolve.
He climbs into bed and takes Kellan. We lie beside each other until it’s bright and then get up and start the day.
The morning crawls, thick with unspoken words. Padraig and I move through the usual motions using muscle memory to guide us through our mental and physical exhaustion. He cooks breakfast for Rafferty and Jude, I change and breast feed Kellan.
Every look between us feels like a deep, purple bruise.
By the time Maureen knocks softly on the front door, I’m strung out on nerves and no rest. She takes Kellan without asking, clucking over his chubby cheeks, promising she’ll keep the little ones busy. Relief and guilt twist together in my chest.
Upstairs, Isla and Lila shuffle around, still in pajamas, hair wild. I call them into our room. Lila flops onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, Isla hovers in the doorway, wary.
“We’re going to have to postpone the dress shopping today.” I try to keep my voice upbeat. “Something’s come up. Everything is fine, I promise, but we need to reschedule.”
Lila groans loud enough to rattle the windows. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She stomps off, mumbling about wasted weekends. Slams her door for emphasis.
Isla stays rooted to the carpet, eyes sharp on me. “It’s not fine. I heard you and Padraig last night.”
“Sweetheart—” The bottom drops out of my stomach hoping she didn’t hear the details.
Her chin lifts, defensive. “You were fighting.”
“We were.” I almost deny it but, what’s the point.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Padraig steps in from the hall to save me. “Everyone argues. None of it is cause for any concern. We do need to talk, Isla. The three of us without the other kids.”
She looks between us, suspicion etched into every line of her face. “Talk about what?”
