Page 120 of Broken Blood Ties

“What about the chocolate?” Aoife says.

“Right here.” I hold up the package of Hershey chocolate bars and open it fanning them out over the tray.

Aoife helps me in the kitchen as we prepare the snack tray for dinner. Grapes, cut up apples, cheese, crackers, some turkey sausage. It’s simple, but perfect to bring out on the patio. I cover the tray with plastic wrap and stick it in the fridge.

“Let’s go out and get the firepit ready. What do you say?”

“Yes!” Aoife jumps up and down shrieking.Goodness.

We move outside, and I’m grateful for the dryer weather as we work to load firewood into the firepit. I’ve been wanting to have a fire out here since the day I first visited the O’Donnell house. It’s gorgeous.

The pit is the centerpiece of the cobblestone patio and seamlessly blends into the coziness of the older home. It has all natural circular stones, carefully stacked. Earthy tones—muted grays, warm browns, and hints of rust complement the cobblestone driveway.

Allie added some plants now that the threat of frost has passed, and the potted ferns bring in some much-needed color.

I pull more pieces of wood from the woodpile framed by a black-iron stand. As dusk falls, lights pull into the driveway, and Kieran’s Audi comes into view. Aoife, who’s been drawing with chalk, runs over to his car as he emerges. He bends down, scooping her up into a firm hug.

He’s wearing his Armani suit today, and I wonder what he had going on at work to justify that. It hugs him in all the right places and the tingling response he provokes in me starts at my toes and spreads warmth all the way up to my cheeks.

Holding Aoife, he walks toward me, a smile on his face. His stubble is freshly trimmed, making his jaw seem more severe. As he nears, the intensity in his features makes me weak in the knees.

“What ye doing?”

“A s’more night!” Aoife wiggles until Kieran puts her down. “We have snacks, too!”

“Sounds good. What can I do to help?” he asks.

“Just need to light the fire.”More like light my fire.Jeez.

I blush at my own thoughts, and Kieran tilts his head taking me in. He reaches for my shirt, a plain blue crew neck, and tugs at it, pulling me into him. When he kisses the top of my forehead, I press farther into him.

“Let me change and I’ll get it lit.”

While Kieran is changing, Aoife and I carry out the trays of food, propping them up on the stone bench circling the firepit. He emerges five minutes later in dark jeans and gray V-neck and works to light the fire. It starts slowly, but soon the flames are dancing, casting a warm, flickering glow across the side of the house. The rugged cobblestone, crackling fire, and darkening night make it the perfect evening.

Aoife tells Kieran about her day in school, and while I miss teaching, having these moments with Aoife where I get to hear about her day from her perspective is special.

“Daddy, can I cut my hair?”

Kieran pops a grape in his mouth, considering. “Why do ye want to do that?”

Aoife looks at me and then back to Kieran. “I want to have hair like Summer. She’s so pretty. She looks like a model.”

I grimace at her words about being a model. I’d put so much emphasis on what I looked like when I was younger, what I could get out of looks. But people are so much more than that. It’s what they carry in their soul, how they treat others, or how they can make you feel seen—that’s where true beauty is.

“Ye’re beautiful just the way ye are, Aoife. But if ye truly want to cut yer hair, we can get it cut. Just do it becauseyewant to.”

She looks at me, eyes searching, and I smile, nodding to echo my agreement with her father’s words. “While there’s nothing wrong with being beautiful, your heart matters more, sweet girl. There was a time I didn’t know that, and I’m sad about that.”

“Being nice and kind is more important?” Aoife asks.

“One hundred percent.”

She beams and moves on quickly from her desire to cut her hair to something else entirely. I smile, and when Kieran catches my eye, he mouths, “Thank you.”

“Always,” I whisper back.

Kieran slides forward, pulling out the roasting sticks. “Who’s ready for a s’more?”