Page 118 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

JAINE

The O’Connell Home, Darling, New York

I watchas Eoin throws a giggling Finian in the air before catching him safely in his strong hands. My smile turns to a grimace as Fin then proceeds to vomit his dinner all over the living space floor not ten seconds later.

Running across, I grab JJ around the middle and lift him before he can start to pick out the colored pieces from the puddle of glop, which is exactly what he did last time.

“Hey, little guy. We don’t want to be touching that now, do we? Why don’t we get you two stinky butts in the bath.”

Eoin and I share a smile as we switch children. We both know when he’s here, JJ will cry if Eoin doesn’t bathe him, his attachment to him is so strong. Finian doesn’t care who has to deal with him as long as they don’t mind listening to his constant chatter as he splashes the lucky individual with water before honoring them with a crown of soap suds.

Eoin washes JJ thoroughly. They then play with toy boats, which Fin deliberately sinks. Fin then takes a water-filled sponge and squeezes it out over JJ’s little head. JJ cries and looks at us with soulful tear-filled eyes, his bottom lip sticking out.

My gaze, as always, is drawn to his quivering chin, the little dent the same as the one Ace had. I stare at it as tears fill my own eyes when I think of his daddy and everything he’s missing out on.

We’ve repeated this process so many times, but I’m determined never to take one precious moment I spend with them for granted ever again. I almost died for a second time. I just drifted off to sleep with Irish, so I’m not sure I’d even have known.

Is that the best way to go?

I’m not so sure that it is. At least when I was staring down the loaded barrel of the other sniper’s rifle, I got the chance to say goodbye.

To Irish, at least.

My eyes connect with Eoin’s once more. Has he been with anyone else? Not that we’ve been split up all that long, but it had a finality to it this time that it’s never had before. I guess he’s single and free to do as he wishes.

I also guess it’s none of my business.

He’s stopped by the past three evenings, although he’s never stayed over. Then again, the kids have worn me out. I’ve missed them, and they’ve missed me. For the past three days, we haven’t gotten out of our pajamas. We’ve spent the whole time building pillow forts, watching Disney movies, and eating a combination of healthy and unhealthy snacks. I’ve even gained some weight. Something that I’m sure will make Tim happy.

Eoin hasn’t been very talkative when he’s been here. He clearly has something on his mind. Something he’s not quite sure how to say. It isn’t like him.

Mr. Smug. Selfish. Pompous is never at a loss for words.

We focus on the children as we put them to bed before returning to the living area. I watch as he takes his usual seat on the sofa. He’s been home first, as he’s dressed down in dark blue jeans and a cream turtleneck. Clothing that best displays the true perfection hidden underneath.

I admire him from where I’m standing, my eyes drinking in every delicious, deadly inch. It’s blatant. I don’t attempt to hide it. He knows I want him. I know he wants me. That’s never been the issue. If a relationship could survive based on fucking alone, we’ve got it in the bag.

It can’t, though. It’s not enough. Nowhere near.

“I want to apologize, Jaine.”

“For what?”

“For how I treated you at the docks. It was unnecessary. I was being reactive.”

“What were you reacting to?” I already know the answer, thanks to Dylan.

“The fact that you kissed Paddy.” And there it is.

“It wasn’t that sort of kiss.”

“I still didn’t like the thought of it.”

“Irish is happily married. Why would I attempt to kiss him any other way?”

I don’t miss the fleeting frown that crosses his face. Over what I did, or something else?

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