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“It doesn’t matter, Joe. Do you hear me?” Digging my heels into the footpath, I pressed my hands to his chest. “It’s okay. I’m not afraid of that bastard.”
“Well, I don’t want him anywhere near you!”
I didn’t want him anywhere near either of us, but I had a feeling his father being here had more to do with my father than anything else. “Just breathe, okay? Take a breath.”
His eyes bulged in outrage. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, you big bastard!” I snapped, slapping at his chest to regather his attention. “So, stop walking and just breathe.”
Releasing a frustrated growl, Joey reluctantly came to a stop and made a pitiful attempt at reining in his temper. “See?” he barked, inhaling an exaggerated breath. “I am breathing.”
Yeah, he was breathing flames.
“If your parents are here, it’s because they were invited by mine,” I tried to wrangle him in by saying. “I need you to be calm, okay? I mean it, Joe. Don’t react to him. Please.”
“Why?” he demanded hoarsely, throwing his hands up. “Why in the name of god would your parents invite my parents over?”
“To talk, most likely.”
“About what?”
I rolled my eyes. “Uh, gee, I don’t know, Joe. Maybe about the fact that their children are having a baby?”
Joey stared at me like he didn’t understand a word of my logic, and it made my heart ache for him. He truly didn’t understand how parents should behave. He had never experienced a remotely loving act from either one of his.
“Listen to me,” I coaxed, hands drifting to his neck. “This isn’t an ambush, okay? You’re not under attack here. My parents don’t know any of it, okay? All they know about your dad is that he’s a shitty person, and they’re about to share a grandchild. That’s all this is, Joe, a sit-down.”
“He is a shitty person,” my boyfriend agreed, voice laced with pain. “A very shitty person.”
“Which is why you need to keep the head in there, okay?”
“I can’t.”
“Please, Joe,” I begged. “Just stay calm, okay?” When my words failed to reach him, I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my stomach. “Feel this?” I demanded, eyes locked on his. “This is ours.”
“Molloy.”
“This baby is yours,” I urged, shivering when I felt his fingers splay across my belly. “But this baby is not you, the same way that you are not him. So, we’re going in there, and we’re going to take all of the shit our parents throw at us on the chin, because we both know that nothing they say or do could ever change a damn thing for us. Because I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.” Leaning up on my tiptoes, I caught hold of his chin and kissed him hard. “We’re a team, Joey Lynch, and that bastard doesn’t stand a chance against us.”
His breath hitched in his throat. “Fuck.”
“Are you with me?”
He nodded slowly. “I’m with you, Molloy.”
______________________
Knowing exactly who I would find at the kitchen table made the walk from my front door to the kitchen so much harder. The concept of facing my own father was already sending me into a silent panic attack, without throwing Joey’s parents into the mix. Finding immense strength from the boy who had my hand wrapped safely in his, I found myself plucking up enough nerve to walk my ass into the kitchen and face them all.
My parents.
His parents.
My brother.
Even Spud was sprawled out, belly up, in a food coma on the mat at the back door.
“Oh, thank god,” my father broke the silence by saying as he set his mug down on the table and blew out a relieved breath. “You’re back.”
