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“I know the feeling,” I heard him say. “I’m sorry it took me so long to call you. I’ve been trying since the day I left, I promise. It’s just…” He sighed heavily down the line. “They have all these rules and shit here, and there’s no getting around any of them.”
“So, you’re doing okay?” I dared to ask, and then clammed up tight with tension. “You’re staying clean?”
“Sixty-two days,” he replied, sounding more even-toned than he had in years. “They even gave me this weird little gold chip for hitting the two-month mark.”
“They did?” Sniffling, I clenched my eyes shut and sagged against the couch. “I’m so proud of you.”
“So, how’s it going?”
“Uh, you know,” I replied with a sigh, feet tapping with excitement as I feigned playful boredom. “This asshole guy I used to go out with abandoned me, so I’ve been pretty pissed about that.”
“What a prick.”
“He is,” I agreed with a nod. “Turns out I’m having his baby, too.”
“No shit.”
“I shit you not.”
“And the prick still left you?”
“Yep.” I feigned another sigh. “Turns out he’s this huge drug addict.”
“I hear drug addicts make the worst boyfriends.”
“They really do.”
“Does he at least have a big dick?”
“He definitely has big dick energy.”
“Okay, I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means.”
Sniffling, I choked out a pained laugh. “Keep talking. I need to hear your voice.”
“Aoife.” There was a pause and then his words came in a flurry. “Christ, Aoife, I’m so sorry, baby. For all of it. For leaving you. For the letter. Jesus, I can’t into put into words how bad I feel for everything I put you through these past few months. When I came here, I wasn’t myself. The truth is, I haven’t been myself in a very long time. I’m not sure if you’ve ever met the real me or if you’ll even like him, but I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard to get back to you—”
“I already love him,” I blurted out. “All of your shapes and versions, remember?”
“You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that.”
“What? I love you?”
I heard him sniff before saying, “Yeah.”
“Well, I love you, Joey Lynch,” I croaked out, wiping my cheeks with my free hand. “And apparently, I can’t stop.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he replied. “Because apparently I can’t stop loving you, either, Aoife Molloy.”
“Joe, I’m so— Ugh!” I sucked in a sharp breath.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, instantly on alert.
“Nothing. Baby’s just kicking me really hard these days.”
He was quiet for a long moment, clearly absorbing my words, before asking, “How’s my baby?”
“Growing by the minute,” I half laughed, half sobbed as I stroked my bump. “You should see me now, Joe. I’m like a beached whale.”
