She had a habit of sleeping with both fists raised beside her head like she was perpetually ready to fight someone, which struck me as deeply on-brand for a Sullivan woman. Mom would have gotten a kick out of that. I got a kick out of it every single night, usually around two in the morning when I should have beensleeping instead of studying Clara’s face in the dark like she might disappear if I looked away too long.
She would never disappear. Three months old and already the most stubborn person I’d ever met. Also on point for my lineage.
But even with all that love pouring through me, I missed my men in Clover Hill. I missed our late night talks and sharing drinks at the bar. I missed how Ronan watched me, his expression so thoughtful and how careful he was with his words. That part never got any easier.
I’d packed the shamrock keychain into a box with the rest of the things I couldn’t look at. The box lived on the top shelf of my closet, behind two sweaters I didn’t wear anymore. I told myself when I put it there, out of sight, that out of sight would eventually become out of mind.
Three months in, I still remembered every single moment.
Clara had no opinion on the matter. She had opinions about when to be fed, which angle she liked me to hold her, and how often I changed her diaper.
Clara made a cooing noise and puckered her lips.
I smiled and bounced a little faster, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I need to get his last email sent, then it’s us time.”
Another coo, and her eyes cracked open, revealing a smoke blueish gray color that everyone told me would go away at some point. Maybe. Maybe not. Depended on who her father was.
My heart tripped and my fingers skipped over the keys, inputting a string of gibberish. A quick highlight and backspace took care of it, but damage to my heart couldn’t be removed quite so easily.
My phone vibrated beside my computer, the low buzz dropping my stomach to my toes when Declan’s name appeared. How many times had I leaped at the phone, thinking one of them might break my request and reach out. After this long, my heart knew the only reason he’d call was because something was wrong.
My thumb hovered over the screen. Declan’s contact photo was the one I’d taken without his knowledge during the reopening. He stood behind the bar, head tipped back as he laughed at something Finn said, the new lights catching the silver at his temples. I’d told myself a dozen times to delete it. Not his contact. Just the picture that clawed my heart every time I saw it.
I should send it to voicemail. That wouldn’t save me from having to listen to it later, but it might help me not break down sobbing at the sound of his voice. It might be about the pub. Someone might have gotten hurt. I scrambled for the phone, pressing it to my ear with a breathless, “Hello?” like I didn’t already know exactly who I was talking to.
A heartbeat of silence so thick I tasted it crossed the line. Declan pulled air in a sharp inhale. Did it hurt him to hear my voice the way I anticipated hearing his? I pressed my free hand flat onto the table and focused on the pressure of it in a grounding technique I studied online. I’d read about it my third week after coming back, when I’d downloaded four different wellness apps to help track my pregnancy and well-being.
“Sorry to bother you.” So polite and controlled it made my heart ache even more. “There’s been a fire.”
“What?” My voice shot so high Clara startled. Her little arms flailed, and I rushed to comfort her before she cried out. Oh god. Had Finn been hurt? Was he dead? Oh fuck. If I lost one moreperson I loved…I swallowed the thought and locked eyes with my daughter. No matter what, I would make it through. For her. I pushed the panic down as far as it would go.
“The pub survived, but the kitchen is totally useless.”
The kitchen? The hum in my veins slowed from a panic to a trickle.
Declan kept going in that slow cadence. “No one was hurt, but the damage is bad enough that Ronan says the entire kitchen will need to be redone.” Ronan. His name in Declan’s mouth hit with a gut punch that stole my breath. I could picture him in the kitchen, hands moving over the damage in that slow, calculated way. Finn would be talking. Nine months and I still knew exactly how all three of them moved through a crisis. I’d probably always know.
“If that’s what you choose to do.” He took another breath that rasped through the phone. “You need to decide if you want to use the insurance money to rebuild…or not. I think it would be best if you come see for yourself.”
“You could send me pictures.” I couldn’t explain why I even tried to argue, but it felt necessary.
“I could. And I will if that’s what you choose. But it’s going to be difficult to show it all in pictures.” His voice trailed off, and the thud of steps came through.
Voices muttered together, and I recognized Finn and Ronan in the background, their voices barely discernable.
They were all there together. I closed my eyes and imagined it. My skin heated, and I shifted in my chair to ease the suddenache. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” It might be the wrong decision, but I had to.
“Okay. Goodbye, Bree.”
“Bye, Declan.” I ended the call before I broke down and said anything else. Clara yawned and stretched, and my heart melted the same way it always did with her. “What am I going to do about you, baby girl?”
A weight settled in my chest. I’d kept her to myself this whole time. I didn’t have anyone in Boston who could watch her for more than a few hours. The daycare situation at work only lasted from noon to two in the afternoon twice a week.
Despite living here most of my adult life, I didn’t trust anyone with my baby. The heaviness in my breasts reminded me of another simple fact. At three months old, Clara breastfed every few hours. I couldn’t pump enough to get her through a day’s absence, much less how long this trip might take.
“I guess you’re going with me.” Saying it out loud made it real. I halfway expected panic to flood in, but all the words gave me was a warm sense of anticipation. “We’re going to face all three of the men who might be your daddy.”
And I wouldn’t be able to lie to them. They would want answers. They deserved them.
