I’m just about to reply to him in the same tone of voice when the pub door opens, letting in a whirlwind with it.
And not just that.
My breath is trapped in my throat again.
Shit.
She’s wearing a colorful plaid shirt over a pair of jeans which are short and torn up. Luckily for me, she’s got something like nylons on under, covering up her legs because otherwise…
What the hell is going on in my mind? What the heck does it matter to me how she dresses when she goes out?
I swallow the saliva and something that feels like a nail which is threatening to pierce my esophagus.
Double shit.
She looks around, wrapping a swatch of hair around her fingernail that’s painted in one of those hot pink colors that are popular for giving fair-haired girls with long hair beautiful light reflections. It falls gently over her shoulders, framing her sunny, fresh face from which two intense, penetrating eyes peer out. She has a full red mouth that makes me instantly regret over-analyzing every detail of her body.
I try swallowing again.
Nothing.
I’m going to suffocate. I’m sure of it.
She finds the table where the party girls are and hurries over to join them without even looking over to the bar.
I’m safe for now.
The future bride stands up and smiles at her in greeting while she greets all the girls one by one. Then Erin gestures to me with her hand to ask me something, but I don’t understand, I can’t hear what she’s yelling, I’m not even able to blink.
It’s not the first time she’s been here and certainly not the first time I’ve seen her. I’ve known her practically since she was in her crib.
And yet, tonight, she’s a different girl. Or maybe she hasn’t been the same since longer than the other night when she found me on the damned roof in the middle of a breakdown. And she stayed with me. I begged her to.
Where in the world was my head?
I had been drinking, maybe.
I was confused, out of control and I let her hug me and console me and that she lay down next to me, on my bed.
How long has it been since something similar has happened? When was the last time I held someone in my arms?
I don’t even know how long she stayed there because once I was snuggled in her arms, I fell fast asleep in a way that I haven’t done in a long, long time.
God, how could I do it? What must she think of me?
She is Ciara, Patrick’s sister, just little more than a girl. One of those who wait around for Prince Charming or some shit like that. A dreamer, a girl with her head in the clouds—one of those types that believes in people, has hope for the future.
Someone who believes in love.
I am a man, with a past and full of my own troubles. I am a realist and even a bit of a cynic with a family to support and a shitty life to manage.
A man who made a promise to her brother years ago: ‘I’ll never mess about with one of your sisters’.
And a promise made is a debt unpaid.
Always.
