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Forty-Four
Aoife
Padraig,oddly enough, was nothing like his elder brother.
He was cheerful, kind, watchful, and, most importantly,sane.
As I fed him and Finn, while picking at my own dinner, I watched them interact, and even though I felt raw after our earlier argument, I liked listening to their stories.
“Remember that time when Senior got Aidan that hooker?” Paddy queried with a laugh, shooting me an apologetic look.
“I know what a hooker is,” I said dryly.
“I remember,” Finn mused, his lips forming a smile that didn’t hit his eyes. Like the memory was there, it was funny, but it was in shadow. “He got a crush on her real bad, didn’t he?”
Paddy cackled. “Your da found out he wanted to marry her—”
“No way,” Finn countered, laughter finally bubbling from him. “How old was he?”
“Thirteen.”
Jesus.
Thirteen? Senior had set Junior up with a hooker atthirteen?
Well,thattook my mind off the fact that I’d almost hit Finn again.
Not for long, though.
The shame I felt soured the roasted chicken I’d cooked for today’s meal, and it made me quiet.
Finn had done many, many wrong things, had made some of the shittiest decisions, but he’d never physically hurt me.
He’d been right to restrain me.
Right to tell me that he wouldn’t let me do that again.
I couldn’t believe I had, to be honest.
Yet, when he talked about Imogen, when he tossed his opinions down, when he declared he was going to take away our chances of having another child, I wanted to shake him because that felt like the only way he’d listen to me.
That he’d hear me.
Paddy stayed for around four hours. I was polite and spoke when he asked me something, but when we finished dessert, I retreated to the kitchen until he left.
When the elevator descended, taking him with it, I half expected Finn to return to the kitchen to hash things out again.
It was only when he didn’t that my heart sank.
I felt like a candle flame with a wet wick. It kept fizzing in and out, the flame dying before it surged back to life.
Finn did that to me.
He made me feel alive when I was sure parts of me were dead.
And that triggered more guilt.
He’d hidden the truth from me. He’d stopped my mother’s murderer from finding justice.
