“That’s great,” said Eilish somewhat warily.

“Don’t worry. I already told her it’d be a while before she can meet him. I’ll make sure she’s cleaned up her act before that ever happens.”

Eilish bobbed her head, her expression relaxing as a thought passed behind her eyes.

I tucked some hair behind her ear and asked, “Hey, what are you thinking about?”

She bit her lip. “Is that how you developed your addiction? Because of your mother?”

I exhaled a deep breath, going quiet for a moment before I answered. “It certainly had a hand in it, and I’m sure I got my addictive traits from her, but it’s not like she forced alcohol down my throat. I did that of my own free will. She probably could’ve set a better example though.”

“Hmm.”

“What does ‘hmm’ mean?”

“You don’t blame her. Most people blame their parents for everything, even when they’ve had it fairly easy growing up. It’s unusual.”

“Yeah well, I’m not in the business of laying blame. I know what it’s like to make mistakes, and I wouldn’t be where I am now if the people in my life hadn’t forgiven me. She might not have been the best parent, but she was always there for me. And she always came to my games. It was only as I got older that we drifted apart. We were still close, just not as close as we used to be.”

Eilish frowned. “I’m not looking forward to Patrick becoming a teenager and drifting away from me. I wish he could just stay little forever.”

I gave her a warm look and slid my arm around her waist as we walked. “You’re the light of that kid’s life. Even when he does grow up I know he’ll never stop loving you. No one could ever stop loving someone like you, Eilish.”

She sucked in a breath and then went quiet. I saw a hint of a blush color her cheeks. She always went quiet when I spoke the truth about her.

We reached the Martello Tower and took a few moments to look at the view. All I could hear was the wind and the waves knocking against the shore. When I looked at Eilish, she was so bloody beautiful she took my breath away. Bright, vibrant strands of hair blew across her face. Her luscious pink lips parted a little, her tongue dipping out to wet them. It was her eyes that were most beautiful though. The light caught them in such a way that made them seem like glass, the blue of the sea reflecting through and giving them color.

I wanted to kiss her.

Instead, I threw my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “We should take a picture,” I whispered, reaching down into my pocket for my phone. Our chests brushed and I felt her shudder. I clicked on the camera and held it up in front of us. Eilish wore a vaguely uncomfortable expression so I nudged her a little.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She nodded and her lips started to curve.

I snapped a few shots before sliding the phone back in my jeans pocket.

“What are you going to do with those?” she asked curiously.

“I won’t be plastering them all over Facebook if that’s what you’re worried about,” I assured her. “I’m just capturing memories for us.”

“Oh,” she breathed and then bit her lip.

“I can send them to you if you’d like, that way we’ll both have copies.”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, please do.”

“Done. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good. Let’s go find a less windy spot where we can eat.”

We found some respite from the wind behind a small outcrop, and I pulled the rolled-up blanket from my bag and laid it on the ground. Eilish sat down, but it was too cold for either one of us to even think about removing our coats. I hadn’t exactly thought this whole picnic idea through.

When Eilish visibly shivered, I offered her my coat but she declined. “You’ll catch your death.”

“Then at least come over here so I can warm you up,” I said, my gaze darkening.

Her eyes twinkled at the suggestion, and she crawled over to sit next to me. Memories from back in the boat flooded my head at her nearness, and I had a hard time keeping my hands to myself. I kept them occupied by handing her the wrapped sandwiches and the flask. Then, unable to help myself, I threw my arm around her shoulders, rubbing up and down to create some heat. Her scent hit my nose. Watermelon. Maybe having a cold Irish picnic wasn’t such a bad idea after all. At least it meant I had an excuse to hold her close like this. She handed me a sandwich and then unwrapped her own.

“Not exactly haute cuisine,” I said. “I promise I’ll take you out somewhere fancy next time.”

She took a bite of the pastrami on rye and closed her eyes to savor it. “No way. This sandwich is amazing. I’ll take this over a Michelin-star restaurant any day of the week.”

“It only tastes good because you’re starving.” I chuckled tenderly.

“Nu-uh. I don’t lie about food. This sandwich is the best thing I’ve tasted in forever. Is that American mustard?”

“Yep.”

She groaned. “It’s soooo good. In my past life, growing up, I went to enough fancy restaurants to last ten lifetimes. Nowadays I prefer good old-fashioned home cooking. You don’t get many opportunities to eat out when there’s a four-year-old living under your roof.”

“Eilish, I’m going to take you to dinner. That’s happening,” I stood firm. “Get Sean to play babysitter.”