“That’s true,” I agree. “It’s okay to like her.” I make sure to reassure him.
He shrugs his little shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. I like her cat too.”
“Maybe we should convince your dad to get one,” I whisper to him.
“I heard that!” Silas snaps from the other side of the room, where he has a lap full of dolls and stuffed animals, which Rosie keeps taking from to build her little tea party around the coffee table.
“Can we, dad?”
Shit. I wince when Silas glares daggers at me. “We don’t have time for a cat, Caleb.”
“We can make time though,” Caleb defends. “Please, dad?”
Fuck. I put my foot in my mouth there.
“Maybe we should revisit this in like a year?” I say. He’ll forget in a year, surely.
Caleb mutters something under his breath and then goes quiet, turning his attention back to the book. I can feel my brother’s eyes burning into the side of my head, but I don’t look at him. I know better than to suggest shit like that, and that’s my bad.
Rosie runs from the room like a bat out of hell, followed by anoomphthat sounds from the kitchen, and then she’s back, Niamh in tow. Rosie is dragging her by her hand, a towel thrown over her shoulder.
“Sit,” Rosie demands, pointing to a cushion thrown onto the floor in front of the table. “It’s teatime.”
Niamh chuckles as she lowers onto the cushion, entertaining Rosie, pretending to sip from her plastic teacup, little pinky out and everything for the next hour. At nine, Silas rounds them up and heads out, leaving just me, Niamh and Remy, but I’m about to remedy that.
Flicking my eyes to my brother, I jerk my chin to the door, silently telling him to get the fuck out, but all he does is grin.
“Roman tells me you own the bar in town. Sunstone Saloon, is it?” Remy asks her.
Huffing an irritated breath, I push up from the couch and go to the small drinks cart I have set up in here. I pour two glasses with a small serving of whiskey and hand one to Niamh. Remy lifts his hand to take the second, but I ignore the fucker and return to my spot on the couch, groaning a little when my ribs smart. I’m due to take my pills for the pain soon, but they’ll knock me out, and I’m not ready to let the night go just yet. I just need my brother toleaveso I can pick up where I left off with Niamh in the dining room.
“That’s right,” Niamh nods to my brother, not picking up on the silent conversation we are having.
“How long have you been doing that?” Remy continues, getting comfortable. He spreads his arms along the back of the chair, a shit eating grin on his face knowing he’s pushing my buttons.
“About five years, I think,” She responds. “I opened it with my dad.”
“Ah,” Remy nods, “A father - daughter duo. I like it. Is he working there tonight? Maybe I’ll pop down there, introduce myself since we’re all family now.”
Fuck. I filled Remy in, but not on every single tiny detail, likewhyNiamh was in so much debt to begin with. It’s bad enough Silas knows everything, which I get was inevitable since he was the one to get me the information in the first place, but things have changed since then.
Niamh stares down into the amber liquid. “Uh, he actually passed. A year ago, now.”
“Shit.” Remy hisses, all humor he had slipping away, “I’m sorry, I didn’t — fuck. I’m sorry.”
Niamh shrugs and wets her lips. “It’s alright.”
Grief is a funny thing, isn’t it? How it can hit you out of nowhere. It could be days, months, even years where you feel okay, but then someone says something, or you smell a scent or hear a song, and it drags you way back to when you were in the thick of it. Niamh is still very much in the thick of her grief; that much is obvious, and no one can bring her out of that. It takes time, and how much time depends entirely on the person grieving.
It’s the cost of loving someone so deeply that when they’re no longer here, a part of you leaves with them. It isn’t about getting over it; it’s about learning to live with a part of yourself that’s missing, a part you never get back, and we all do that differently.
“I should probably go,” Remy fidgets uncomfortably now that he’s put his whole foot in his mouth and then gets up. “I really am sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Niamh assures him, but she can’t look him in the eye. Me, however, I’m glaring at him, my fingers twitching to slap him upside the head.
“I’ll walk you out,” I grind out, leaving Niamh in the living room to show my brother the door.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Remy hisses.
