“When we were together, I covered her ass. Told myself the kids didn’t get it. That was a lie. They see everything. Worse, they feel it. Didn’t happen a lot but it happened too fuckin’ much for me. After the one I decided would be her last, she came home, I had her bags packed. Told her to kick the booze or get the fuck out. She told me she didn’t have a problem even though she was so hungover, she looked about eighty. I told her if she didn’t get her disappearing from our family home without warning for three days so she could get hammered was a problem, she needed to get her shit and get out. Then she grabbed her shit and walked right out.”

I got closer and whispered, “Mickey.”

“After I got shot of her, she pulled it together, never did it when she had the kids. Never left our kids to fend for themselves. Never missed a special meal. But we were at the restaurant twenty minutes before you got there, Amy, she was supposed to meet us there, and she hadn’t showed. Fifteen minutes after you left, after the fourth text I couldn’t hide sending the bitch to find out where the fuck she was, Cill started losing it. Then he lost it and threw a tantrum. Took him outside to calm him down, got him to do that, but he wanted to leave. We left, went to get fuckin’ burgers for my boy’s birthday, ’cause that was all he was up for. Got home, started to do cake and presents, the bitch called. She called Ash’s phone. Cill knew it was her, grabbed it before my girl could save him that shit, and he got a birthday call from a mother who was totally shitfaced.”

I felt tears fill my eyes.

Oh, Cillian.

“Honey,” I whispered, getting even closer, my hand now pressing.

“He was good with her, my boy’s good with his mom, but he got off the phone, went wild. Threw the cake Ash made for him against the wall and slammed into his room. We had words, he’s still not calmed down, but I’m givin’ him time. I gotta get back to him because I gotta shape him up and sort out Rhiannon’s mess. Again.”

“Okay, then go,” I invited.

“We gotta talk.”

That didn’t sound promising.

But right then, not one thing was about me.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I told him.

“Best kiss I ever had,” he told me.

I drew in a sharp breath, those five words thrilling down my throat, to my belly, straight to the tips of my toes.

“Want more,” he went on. “You with me?”

I nodded and just stopped myself from doing it humiliatingly enthusiastically.

“Good,” he stated curtly. “We talked. I sort out my boy, we’ll talk more.”

“Okay, Mickey.”