Page 44 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

Tears prick my eyes at what I’m about to witness. A sight I’ve been waiting to see for over two years now. I stand outside the family room and listen in.

“Padraig, you’ll make him sick if you keep throwing him around like that,” Roisin lectures.

“And what’s a little sick between nephew and uncle, eh, Fin? I reckon we should tell your grandma to mind her own business, or else you’ll throw up on her fancy rug.”

More laughter, and I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. God, how I’ve fucking missed my Irish.

“If he vomits on that rug, then you’ll be the one cleaning it up, Padraig O’Connell.”

Irish snickers. “It’s all lies, Fin. I’m Grandma’s favorite, not that she’d ever admit it because she knows fine well I’ll record it and play it back to my brothers. But as her favorite, she would never see me having to mop up baby sick.”

Suddenly feeling guilty for eavesdropping, I make a noise before entering the room.

I’m dressed in a suit, whereas Irish is wearing navy sweatpants and a white fitted t-shirt. Perched on his shoulders is a smiling Fin, his chubby little fingers gripping tightly on to Irish’s hair, his face a picture of happiness.

They look so alike. A sob escapes me, but thankfully, it becomes more of a snort.

“Uh-oh. It looks like your ma’s about to start having a go now, Fin. I reckon we’d best quit while we’re ahead, lad, before both of us end up in trouble.” He reaches up to grab him, tickling him as he does and leaving Fin giggling so hard he can scarcely catch his breath.

I can’t help but laugh along.

No sooner has he put him on the floor, Fin’s grabbing his leg and wanting more.

Walking over, I pick Fin up, kissing him on the top of his head. I’m conscious that Irish is now watching me interact with my little boy.

Our little boy.

“No more, Fin. Grandma’s right. You’ll make yourself sick.” It’s my turn to be the responsible adult.

“Let’s get you in the bath, Finian O’Connell before Padraig teaches you any more bad habits.” With a small smile, Roisin rolls her eyes exaggeratedly at Irish as she holds her arms toward me for Fin. Irish smirks cheekily in response.

It’s obvious she wants to give me and him a chance to talk and clear the air. She’s no doubt already heard about what went down.

We both watch as she leaves the room with Fin before closing the door quietly behind her.

And then it’s just me and him.

I take Irish in as I stand directly in front of him. All of the O’Connell brothers are handsome, but Padraig is breathtaking to look at. He has a certain something that’s impossible to put your finger on. It’s like an inner spark that makes him different from anyone else I’ve ever met. Maybe it’s something only I can see.

Then again, maybe not.

He’s always grown a female fanbase wherever he goes. Mr. Gift of the Irish Gab has had to beat women off with a stick his whole life. By the time I reach his face, eyes of sparkling blue are laughing at me.

“Are you blatantly checking me out, darlin’?” Always so cocky and sure of himself. It’s one of the traits I love most about him.

“You flatter yourself way too much, Irish,” I smirk.

But we both know that’s exactly what I was doing.

“Jaine, I’m sorry about before.” Frowning, he runs his hand through his messy black hair. “I had no right saying what I did.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t take offense.”

“Unlike my brother.” A glimmer once more of his alter-ego. The bite is far less this time around, but it’s still there.

“He’s protective.”

“Possessive, you mean.”

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