Chapter 25
twenty-five
Padraig
The Same Night
I’m stuffed.
The kind of chockablock only a McGloughlin Sunday dinner can deliver.
Roast beef so tender it fell apart with a look. Ma’s famous colcannon thick with butter and cabbage. Brown bread warm from the oven.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Ma herd Cillian and Seamus toward the front door like a general mobilizing troops. “Right, come on, we’re heading next door.”
“Next door” isn’t part of the usual Sunday routine and had I known about it before inviting Mara to meet my family, I might have rescheduled. We can’t get out of celebrating Lucinda Hayes’ birthday, even if the idea of stepping into Stevie’s house again makes every muscle seize.
On our way over, Mara slides her hand into mine. She beams, cheeks flushed, polished as ever. I swear, the woman always looks like she’s stepped off camera, which, I suppose, she has.
She’s twenty-four. A broadcast anchor in LA with a solid social following and a real talent for making strangers feel like old friends.
I met her on Raya six months ago. She thought it was a joke when she matched with me.
Called me “the drummer with the poetry eyes.” Told me she’d always wanted to date a rockstar.
I don’t think she said it to make me feel important. She actually likes the idea of who I am and what I do for a living. I enjoy how easy it is to be with her. We’ve had a solid block of time to get to know each other, with Liam in Dublin with Linus.
Being out with Mara is electric. She slips her arm through mine like she owns the night. Loves the way people stare. Loves it even more when I lean down and remind her no one else gets this version of me.
When we get separated, she makes me wait. When I spot her across the room, she’ll blow me a kiss like she knows exactly how hard I am under these jeans.
She’s pure trouble. Conversation is top-notch. She’s kind. Funny. Self-depreciating.
The sex is fantastic too.
So, yeah. I dig her. She’s the first woman who’s held my attention since…
Ugh. She knows about Stevie, but hasn’t asked much. And, I haven’t offered, to be fair.
Which means she has no idea how nervous I am about this birthday shindig.
“Does your family do this kind of thing every Sunday?” Mara adjusts her grip on my hand as we move down the walk.
“Family dinner, yeah. Cake with the neighbors? Not usually.” I try to modulate my voice to something resembling normal.
“Oh.” She smiles up at me. “Well, it’ll be fun.”
“Sure.”
Seamus, who’s now in medical school, helps Da down the steps with practiced ease. Cillian’s behind them, carrying on a quiet conversation with Ma. They all look relaxed and content, like the tension coiling through the McGloughlin family has finally eased.
Cillian runs McGloughlin Construction on his own now, but Da’s back working nearly full time. Mostly desk work as he continues to recover from his injuries. It’s nice to see Ma relaxed. I guess she’s not waiting for something to explode anymore.
It dawns on me. The dynamic is almost peaceful.
Glancing across the grass, past the flowerbeds separating our house from the Hayes’, I catch a glimpse of movement inside.
Despite my blooming romance with Mara, deep down the situation with Stevie is an open wound. My stomach roils with nerves. Cake at the Hayes’ used to be something I looked forward to because I’d get to hang out with Stevie.
Now I’m not sure how to act.
Their living room is buzzing when Mara and I step through the doorway. In some ways, nothing’s changed. Laughter and voices overlap. Chairs scrape against hardwood. The smell of fresh coffee wafts through the air. Lucinda’s giant birthday cake holds court at the table.
The Hayes’ place is exactly as I remember. Wide front windows frame the yard, shelves are crowded with books and knickknacks Lucinda’s collected over the years. The couch is where Stevie and I watched TV for hours when we were kids and where we lost our virginity together.
Everything’s the same but so clearly different.
Lucinda stands at the head of the dining table. Ma joins her and soon, they’re laughing like schoolgirls. Hank sits in the corner with Stevie’s baby on his lap, making faces to coax out tiny giggles. As usual, Ziggy teases Joni over some silly thing.
And…there she is.
Stevie. Smoothing a loose strand of the younger daughter’s hair back into its braid. She glances up as we enter. I catch the faintest flicker in her expression when her eyes meet mine before she quickly looks away.
Ah. So we were good and now we’re gonna ignore each other.
Good to know.
Cooper, his hair graying slightly at the temples, comes in from the kitchen, cake knife in hand. “Let’s get this party started!”
Mara’s hand threads around mine, and I realize I’ve stopped in the doorway. “Should we sit?”
“Sure.” I force my feet forward toward the empty side of the table.
“Padraig,” Lucinda says warmly as we pass. “It’s so good to see you home.”
“You too.” I step aside so Mara isn’t blocked. “This is my girlfriend, Mara.”
“Well, hello. How nice to meet you.” Lucinda’s eyes crinkle curiously.
“Thank you for having me.” Mara offers her hand, which Lucinda ignores in favor of pulling her into a hug.
Without thinking, I glance across the room to find Stevie again. She’s back on her feet next to her dad. Lila clutches her hand like a lifeline. Cooper moves to stand behind her, his easy smile never faltering as he drapes one arm casually around her shoulder, the other around the oldest girl.
The perfect family picture is almost too much for me to take.
I clear my throat and guide Mara toward the empty seats at the far end of the table. Everyone else also settles into their places. Ma and Da near Lucinda and Hank. Cillian, Seamus, Joni, and Ziggy leaning against the mantel as they chatter away.
Ma makes quick work of slicing the cake. Plates make their way around the table and I can’t help but low-key stare at Stevie with her kids.
“Careful, Lila.” Stevie steadies her daughter’s plate as frosting threatens to slide off.
“Thanks, Mommy.”
Cooper leans close to murmur something in Stevie’s ear and she laughs quietly, shaking her head at him. The sound feels like a punch straight to the ribs.
Mara notices me watching and squeezes my knee under the table. “Is it tough seeing your ex?”
“It’s fucking weird.” I force a grin. “I haven’t seen her since she had all these kids. It’s a lot to process.”
She smiles, but I can tell she’s not convinced I’m being completely truthful.
Decidedly, I turn my chair to face her and the two of us join a conversation with Cillian and Da about construction site war stories.
Mara asks a bunch of questions and charms both my brother and father with her insight.
I sit quietly, thoroughly enjoying her using her reporting skills to ingratiate herself with my family.
Despite my efforts to focus on my girlfriend, every time I glance up, I find Stevie’s eyes on me from where she sits on the couch eating cake. She doesn’t hold my gaze for more than a second. Always looks away as soon as I catch her to focus on one of her kids or Cooper.
My God, even after all these years the pull between us is undeniable.
Sharp and familiar.
Wrong.
Does she also remember the last time we were in this house before everything went wrong?
Before we started building lives that didn’t include each other?
We were shoulder-to-shoulder exactly where she’s sitting when she discreetly jacked me off under a blanket with her entire family surrounding us watching a holiday movie.
Jesus. The memory makes my cock stir, which is wildly inappropriate.
I glance at Mara, who’s asking Ma about her cooking. My girlfriend is making a huge effort, she’s genuinely interested in me and I’m thinking about fucking my ex who’s here with her small children.
For fuck’s sake. I’m an asshole. The twilight zone of our two worlds colliding is too much.
So, I drift and tune out the conversation. Watch mouths move without registering words. My defense mechanism. I’m floating in my own world until I feel a presence beside me.
The older girl.
Isla stands close, silent, brown eyes locked on mine like she’s trying to decide what to say. There’s something careful in her stare. Like she’s weighing me.
“I picked the cake.” She points to the half-eaten piece on my plate. “Did you like it?”
I lean forward and shove a huge bite into my mouth. “Best I’ve had in years.”
That earns me a small, triumphant smile.
She hesitates again. “Can I sit by you? Mommy says you’re a rockstar and you used to be best friends.”
“Course you can.” I tap the cushion beside me as my heart simultaneously melts and then breaks.
She climbs into the chair next to me without a word and nestles in, her skinny shoulder pressing into my side. Doesn’t speak. Or fidget. Just sits there. Solid and warm, eyes flicking between the other grown-ups and me with quiet interest.
I can’t fucking breathe. The weight of her against me is nothing. And yet it stirs a longing inside me I don’t comprehend.
I’m not her father. I’m nothing to her. She leans in trustfully, however, without hesitation. It levels me. I want to run. I want to hold perfectly still. I want to forget everything and I want to remember it all.
Not long after, Isla’s breathing slows, her hand resting on my sleeve.
She’s fallen asleep.
On me.
Across the room, Stevie’s voice cuts through the conversations surrounding me.
I look up, instinctively as her eyes survey the scene.
Oldest daughter curled into me, my hand cradled awkwardly near her back.
Something shifts in her expression. Then she turns away, moving toward Lucinda, who’s started clearing plates.
Mara leans over. “Oh my God. How sweet,” she whispers, grinning. “She must really like you.”
I nod, unable to speak.
Stevie steps toward us a moment later, gaze pinned to her daughter.
“Isla,” she commands, soft and sure. “C’mon, sweetheart. Wake up, we’re gonna head home. It’s past your bedtime.”
The girl stirs. Blinks. Doesn’t speak as she slides off the couch and pads silently toward her mother, taking Stevie’s hand without looking back.
I force myself to appear unaffected. I stand and hold my hand out to Mara. “Ready to go?”
She nods. “Sure. I have to be up early tomorrow.”
At the door, Lucinda folds both of us into another warm hug.
Hank claps my shoulder like no years have passed. “Glad you came, son.”
“Me too,” I lie, because tonight has been far too awkward and confusing for my liking.
Mara and I step into the night, the porch light flickers behind us. Stevie stands close to the doorway with her baby draped over her shoulder, his tiny fist curled into the strap of her sundress.
Her eyes find mine through the amber haze and hold for a single breath.
Neither of us say anything.
Then she looks away.
Damn. I guess she’s someone I used to know now.
Mara’s hand slides into mine.
I wrap my fingers around hers and hold tight, not for comfort. For clarity.
My feelings for Stevie? The longing and ache I thought I could keep at bay?
Nope. It’s alive.
If I ever want a real future, with someone who sees me and chooses me, I can’t do this.
Clarification. I won’t.
From this day forward, I’ll never allow myself to be in a room with Stevie Hayes again.
It’s not worth it.
Our past is officially dead.