I inhale deep, slow breaths and exhale loudly.
You don’t have to decide today.
Just enjoy it.
Enjoy being with Ronan. Enjoy the dizzying endorphins soaring through your soul. Enjoy having someone of your own.
By the time I reach Mrs Rivers’ house, my erratic heart rate has calmed.
The garden is a flurry of activity. Ronan is in goal. Isla, Eden, John and Joseph stand in a line ten metres back. They seem to be taking it in turns to take penalty shots. Isla’s foot is hovering over the ball as if she’s biding her time while she bites her lower lip in concentration.
At the sound of the engine stilling, Ronan’s head twists and his big blue eyes seek me out. My stomach flips and my soul sings. I raise a hand in greeting, unable to wipe the grin off my face at the mere sight of him.
Isla sees an opportunity and kicks the ball as hard as she can into the corner of the goal. All four kids scream with glee and Ronan darts out from between the goal posts to chase Isla and sweep her into the air while she howls with laughter. Eden, John and Joseph join in, circling Ronan and Isla, and cheering. Sunlight dances over them, framing them like a picture. And what a pretty picture they make.
This is what Sundays are made for. Ronan’s family has it right. Sundays are for families. I silently vow not to take on any Sunday commitments from now on.
I open the car door and the twins come running over to greet me.
‘Mammy, did you see that?’ Isla’s eyes shine brightly with pride.
‘I did, honey. You’re amazing.’ I kneel at my daughters’ eye level and hug them both, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ at Ronan over their shoulders.
‘A pleasure,’ he mouths back.
‘Who’s hungry?’ Ronan’s mother calls from the doorway.
‘Me,’ my daughters shout together, leaping into the air and running towards the open front door. John and Joseph run after them, leaving Ronan and me alone in the garden.
‘Glad to see they’ve made themselves at home,’ I muse as Ronan brushes his lips over my cheek. It’s nowhere near enough, given watching him play dad with my kids does things to my lady parts, but it will have to do for now.
‘Why wouldn’t they?’ His hot breath grazes my ear and goosebumps ripple across my skin despite the summer sun. ‘If I get my way, they’ll be up here every Sunday soon enough.’
‘Hmm, Stu and Steve might have something to say about that.’ I glance towards the house to check no one is watching before tilting my face up towards his lips.
‘They won’t if they get the wedding they’ve been waiting for.’ Mischief crinkles the corners of his eyes, but his tone is serious.
I don’t know how to answer, so instead I reach up on my tiptoes and close the distance between us. I part my mouth with his, sinking into the sensations that spin through my body.
‘Kids!’ Mrs Rivers calls from the front door. I jump back, guiltily, but Ronan just grins at his mother, who looks to be suppressing her own smile, if her twitching lips are anything to go by.
‘Coming,’ he yells, and takes me by the hand. ‘Could beworse,’ he murmurs into my ear. ‘She could have caught us on a day bed with our trousers round our ankles.’
‘Or no trousers on at all,’ I agree. When Ronan leads me into the house, I don’t take my palm from his.
His brother, Richard, waggles his eyebrows less than discreetly, his dark eyes darting from our hands to our faces and back to our hands.
Rachel is sitting at the table with sleeping baby Mark cradled in her right arm and a glass of white wine in her left hand. She also takes in Ronan and me, and beams. ‘Savannah, welcome back,’ she whisper-shouts over her baby’s head. ‘Your girls are adorable.’
‘Thank you.’ I turn to Mrs Rivers, who is busy handing out plates of thinly sliced beef and steamed veg. ‘Thank you for having us.’
‘You have no idea how much I enjoy it.’ Mrs River’s pauses, her blue eyes water as she places Isla and Eden’s dinner in front of them.
Isla’s head twists up from her plate and I pray to God she’s not about to complain about the vegetables. Instead, she blurts out, ‘Is Ronan your boyfriend?’
Eden elbows her sister, but Isla doesn’t get the hint.
‘What?’ Isla gazes between Ronan and me. ‘Is he?’
