JOEY
“GIVE ME A SONG, JOE.”
“Hm?”
“A song.”
It was a little after ten o clock, we were holed up in her room keeping a low profile from Tony, who was banging around downstairs like a bear with a sore head, and Molloy had somehow managed to rope me into watching another horror movie from her collection. Tonight’s chosen number was Final Destination 2.
Completely fucking reeling from the events of the last twenty-four hours, I was doing everything I could to take the pressure off my girlfriend.
To make her feel like she wasn’t in this alone.
Because she might be the one currently housing our baby, but the responsibility of parenthood was coming for both of us.
Just thinking about it caused my heart to catapult around in my chest.
The fuck was I going to do?
I had a girl and a baby to look after.
But I still had Shannon and the boys.
And Mam.
Jesus Christ.
“What do you mean give you a song?” I asked, slotting another pillow behind me to take the pressure off my back and ease the pain coursing through my flesh. “I don’t sing, baby.”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” she replied, nestling between my legs, with her back to my chest. “Give me a song for us.”
“For us,” I repeated, mulling it over, as I hooked an arm around her middle and drew her body closer to mine.
“Yeah, for us.”
“I don’t have a song.”
“Well, find one because I need a song.”
“Fine.” Dropping my hand to rest on her stomach, I said, “Madonna.”
“Like a virgin?”
“Papa don’t preach.”
She snorted. “Nice.”
I smirked. “Thanks.”
“For real, though.” Breaking free from my hold, she twisted around until she was straddling my lap. “Give me something real.”
“You’re putting me on the spot here.”
“So?” Leaning in close, she nuzzled my nose with hers. “You’re excellent under pressure.”
Sighing heavily, I loosely clasped her waist. “Molloy.”
“Please…”
“Fine.” Shaking my head, I racked my brain for something – anything – to appease the girl, before finally coming up with, “Divine Inspiration’s The Way.”
“From the rave in Kerry?” Recognition flashed in her green eyes, and she beamed at me. “You remember that?”
“That surprises you?”
“No, I just…” Shaking her head, she scrunched her nose up before admitting, “It’s just that you were pretty buzzed that night.”
I was worse than buzzed that night.
I was out of my fucking mind.
“I can still remember the way you looked when you were dancing in that field, with your yellow wellies and tiny denim shorts,” I heard myself say, remembering the moment clearly. The clearest of my memories involved nights with her. The only nights I ever wanted to remember were the ones I spent with her. “You had that little bra top thingy on, your tits were spilling out,” I continued to tell her, needing her to know that she was forever on my mind. “The cheeks of your ass were on full display, and I swear to Christ, I was driven half mental from watching you.”
“Really?”
“Really, really,” I confirmed, mirroring her smile.
“And you danced,” she teased, snaking a hand out to playfully pinched my good cheek. “The boy who refuses to dance was throwing shapes like a raver.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” I shot back. “It was safer to join the madness. You had that neon body paint all over you –”
“Oh my god, the body paint!” she squealed out a laugh. “So had you.”
Yeah, because she caked me in it. “And every time the strobe lights flashed around us, you lit up like a firework.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, Molloy.” Releasing a contented breath, I reached a hand up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was high that night, but you sent me soaring.”
“Smooth.”
“Not smooth, just honest.”
“That was an epic summer, Joe. Wrapped up in you.” Her eyes lingered on mine for a long moment before she released a wistful sigh. “I guess all that’s behind me now, huh?”
“No, Molloy.” My heart gunned in my chest, twisting and morphing between sorrow and guilt. “We’ll do it again.”
“Yeah,” she replied, but it was a half-hearted mumble. “With a baby on my hip.”
“We’ll do it again,” I repeated, catching her chin with my hand and forcing her to look at me.
“Yeah?” she whispered, tone hopeful.
“Yeah,” I confirmed gruffly. “And you’ll be just as reckless.” Leaning in, I brushed a kiss to her lips. “And I’ll be slightly less high.”
