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“I’m goin’ta be an actress like on the telly,” she announces with a flourish of her hands. “But I like ballet, so I’ll do ballet actin’.”
Fer someone so young, Aine is a bright, chatty girl. When I was her age, I was far less willin’ ta talk ta anyone. Ma used ta have ta drag me out of my bedroom ta greet the visitors who frequented the house. Even as I got older, I was very much a loner until Da took me ta work with him and I had ta learn ta speak up.
“Then that’s what ye’ll do,” I tell her, offerin’ her my hand in a high five that she slaps with her tiny palm.
I do know that my da’s belief in me gave me the confidence to grow. He made sure I knew I was worthy of anythin’ I set my mind ta, and I want Aine ta feel the same way.
As afraid as I was about ever becomin’ a father, this moment right here has me wonderin’ if my fear was just a limitation I put on myself. I didn’t want ta have someone love me so much, then have ta lose me. Fer me ta be killed like Da because this life is drenched in violence.
It was one of the reasons I pushed Callia away whenever we got too close. But now I’ve committed myself ta her. I’m now doin’ the thing I was scared of in the first place and lettin’ someone love me, as I love her.
Aine nibbles her apple slice with her focus back on the colourin’ book she’s placed on the blanket in front of her. There’s a satisfied expression on her face, and her smile brightens as she chews and flicks her pencil over the page.
I turn ta Callia and ask, “Would ye want ta come with me ta Italy? I know Ma would love ta meet ye.” I’ve never considered takin’ anyone home since Orla. She was the first and last.
“A-Are ye sure?” Callia’s nervous stutter is cute.
I love how she’s always unsure of what’s goin’ on between us. It means I’m able ta surprise her. But I know it won’t last long. Once she realises she’s mine and I’m never lettin’ her go, she’ll overcome her doubts.
“I’ll talk ta Orla when she gets back. I’ll tell her I want ta take Aine over ta see my ma. She’s can’t refuse. Aine is mine as well. We’re also goin’ta have ta consider joint custody in some way because I’m not goin’ta risk losin’ my daughter again.”
“Get a lawyer before she comes back,” Callia tells me. “I know how long and drawn out these things can be, so the sooner you get advice from a professional, the better.”
“Aye, I’ll call someone in the mornin’. I don’t want ta fight Orla fer custody, I just want ta come ta some agreement so I can see Aine,” I say, keepin’ my voice low. I don’t want my daughter hearin’ my plans just yet. She won’t understand, and I don’t want ta spook her.
“I doubt it will be an issue,” she tells me as she smiles over at Aine, who’s now eatin’ her last piece of apple. “Was that good, Aine?” Callia asks.
“Aye,” Aine tells us with a nod of her head. “I like it because it tastes like sweets.”
That makes me laugh because I would never have thought of an apple as bein’ anythin’ like a sweet. Granted, I wasn’t a very healthy eater as a child, so there’s no surprise there.
“I think ye’ve been eatin’ some weird sweets,” I tease her, which makes her laugh.
Her grin is wide, causin’ her dimples to deepen. I still can’t believe she looks so much like me. It’s definitely surreal ta be lookin’ at part of me.
“Noooo…” she mumbles, draggin’ out the word fer as long as her little lungs can hold the breath. “It’s yummy,” she informs me with an animated tip of her head.
She seems much older than her six, almost seven years. She has a personality that’s goin’ta challenge anyone who steps in her way. I’ve a suspicion my daughter has a lot more of my personality than she has of her mother’s. I know it shouldn’t, but it makes me smile.
“If ye say so.” I shrug as I watch her. “I think we need ta get some sweets fer ye later on, so ye can see fer yerself. We can go shoppin’.”
“Ohh! Yes, please!” Her squeal of excitement is enough ta confirm that’s what we’ll be doin’. I hope I’ll always be able ta make her this happy. I may not have been around fer her birth, or the first few years of her life, but I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ up fer it.
THIRTEEN
REBEL
I’m angry.
More than feckin’ angry.
“I’m sorry, mate,” Tye tells me as he stares at my hands, fistin’ at my sides. I’m pretty sure my rage is written all over my face right now.
