Page 6 of Intimately Faithful

“Do you still take sugar?” His voice brought her head up, he was looking over his shoulder and Aoife’s stomach dropped.

He was still so handsome.

Would this trip of mercy have been better had he stacked on a dozen stone and been a moody bastard? Probably not. She’d loved the lanky boy who, when he went through puberty, could out bad mood even her.

It was never his looks she loved, though he’d turned into quite the looker.

Danny had a kindness that attracted folk like moths to his flame.

It was hard to look away, but she had to if she were to preserve what little shield she had left.

“Yes, thank you.” She croaked in reply.

Taking the cup he offered, their fingers grazed. Just a slight touch and an ache formed in its wake. Burrowed deep within her chest, it sat and festered, taunting Aoife with all those what ifs.

What if she’d gone to him that night and asked him to fix it all.

Could he? Would he have?

That was by the by, she supposed.

She never would have put that on his young shoulders.

And here she was, yet again in another scrape she wanted him to fix for her.

Would she ever learn?

Sip after sip she drank the tea until there was not a drop left.

Danny seemingly patient to wait until she was ready to voice what had brought her to his door now of all times.

She sighed and leaned against a wooden bench behind her just to give her bones a little rest. Allowing herself to look for the first time around his church with the wood pews, mosaic tiled floor and stained-glass window as its main feature.

It really was a lovely church.

He fit, she mused. In this place, in this town, she could tell he’d made a home for himself.

And it tore her up even more to know she wasn’t a part of his life.

Aoife didn’t want comfort and soothing.

Yet, it was the only thing she wanted at the same time.

“Ready to talk now?” His question cut through the silence at the same time the baby strapped to her chest began stirring. While she cuddled her closer, she nodded. “I suppose I should.”

The relaxed way he asked and perched on the side of a table with his legs crossed and arms equally so over his chest led her to believe this wasn’t new to him about helping waifs and strays who turned up unexpectedly.

It didn’t give Aoife comfort.

She felt like a burden and if she had any other choice, she would be anywhere else but here.

“Where’s your husband, Aoife?” Just her name in his mouth caused her to shiver and cuddle the baby tighter. She’d thankfully dosed back off.

The poor darling’s had a traumatic day too and she needed the sleep.

It was time to take control of her own happiness.

Fate be damned. No one was responsible for Aoife’s happiness but herself.