Page 45 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

“That too.”

There’s a long pause. It’s not awkward. It’s just that, right here, right now, we’re both having to adapt to a relationship that’s changed. We’re both having to figure out how to converse again. Just me. Just him. No longer meandhim.

Once friends.

Once confidants.

Once everything

Now strangers.

Now parents.

Now nothing.

“I’d like for us to be friends, Jaine, if that’s all right with you.” He rocks back and forth on his feet.

An olive branch with a hint of anger. It’s understandable. On one hand, it will take time for him to process what he thinks happened. On the other, he realizes neither of us can hold a permanent grudge because even if it did take place how he imagined it, it’s been superseded. We’ve both moved on. Me with Eoin. Him with Sophia.

“I’d like that.”

“And I’d also like to hang out with Fin sometimes, and JJ too, if he’s around. I’ll never have any wee ones of my own, so I’d like to be able to dote on any nieces and nephews that I’m blessed with. If I get too needy at times, then you can just give me a swift kick.”

The guilt is suddenly overwhelming. I’ve had to live with this knowledge for over two years now. Surely, I can cope with another couple of months?

“Anywhere in particular?”

“Where I spend time with them, or where can you kick me?”

“Idiot.” I chuckle.

He grins proudly, and then his smile fades.

“And I’m sorry, Jaine. About Ace. He was a good man.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” I drop my gaze to the floor as my thoughts drift back to when we were taken by the Bratva and to the events that followed. Noticing my mood change, he immediately places his finger under my chin and tilts my head up.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel melancholy, darlin’.”

“I know.” I blink back tears that he won’t be able to miss.

“And I’m also sorry for deceiving you the way I did. You know. When I pretended to be our Dylan.”

I stare into eyes of ice blue and immediately get flooded with a plethora of emotions, memories, regrets, and what-ifs. I couldn’t look away even if I tried.

“Why did you?”

His response is immediate. “Because I didn’t want to let you go.”

So open. So honest. So Irish.

“I’m glad you did.” My voice is a whisper.

“And why is that?” His is low.

“Because….”

Because I love you. Always have. Always will.

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