“Molloy.”
My heart.
My poor, poor heart jackknifed in my chest at the sound of his familiar deep timbre. “Joe?”
“Yeah, baby, it’s me.”
“Joe?” I cried, face contorting with emotion, as I tried to roll myself off the couch, knocking my punnet of grapes all over the floor in the process. “Is that really you?”
“It’s really me,” his voice came down the line and I had to sit back down because my legs were shaking too badly to keep me upright.
“Oh my god.” The floodgates opened and I cried loud and ugly down the line for a solid three minutes before I had the ability to compose myself. “Hey, stud.”
“How’s my queen?”
“Missing you,” I choked out through tears. “How are you calling me right now? Are you home? Oh my god, please tell me that you’re back in Ballylaggin and on the way over to my house.”
“Soon,” he told me. “I promise, baby. I’ll be back to you soon.”
“Then how?”
“Finally earned myself some phone call privileges,” he explained. “So, expect a lot of phone calls.”
“What are you calling off?”
“There’s a communal phone in the day room.”
“I’m surprised you remembered my number?”
“Are you kidding? I memorized your number when I was twelve.”
“You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice,” I told him through tearful laughter. “God, Joe, I’m shaking so hard I can hardly hold my phone to my ear.”
“I know the feeling,” I heard him say. “I’m sorry it took me so long to call you. I’ve been trying since the day I left, I promise. It’s just…” He sighed heavily down the line. “They have all these rules and shit here, and there’s no getting around any of them.”
“So, you’re doing okay?” I dared to ask, and then clammed up tight with tension. “You’re staying clean?”
“Sixty-two days,” he replied, sounding more even toned than he had in years. “They even gave me this weird little gold chip for hitting the two-month mark.”
“They did?” Sniffling, I clenched my eyes shut and sagged against the couch. “I’m so proud of you.”
"So, how's it going?"
"Uh, you know," I replied with a sigh, feet tapping with excitement, as I feigned playful boredom. "This asshole guy I used to go out with abandoned me, so I've been pretty pissed about that."
"What a prick."
"He is," I agreed with a nod. "Turns out I'm having his baby, too."
"No shit."
"I shit you not.”
"And the prick still left you?"
"Yep." I feigned another sigh. "Turns out he's this huge drug addict."
"I hear drug addicts make the worst boyfriends."
"They really do.”
"Does he at least have a big dick?"
“He definitely has big dick energy.”
“Okay, I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means.”
Sniffling, I choked out a pained laugh. “Keep talking. I need to hear your voice.”
“Aoif.” There was a pause and then his words came in a flurry. “Christ, Aoif, I’m so sorry, baby. For all of it. For leaving you. For the letter. Jesus, I can’t into put into words how bad I feel for everything I put you through these past few months. When I came here, I wasn't myself. The truth is, I haven't been myself in a very long time. I'm not sure if you've ever met the real me or if you'll even like him, but I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard to get back to you —”
“I already love him,” I blurted out. “All of your shapes and versions, remember?”
“You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that.”
“What? I love you?”
I heard him sniff before saying, “Yeah.”
“Well, I love you, Joey Lynch,” I croaked out, wiping my cheeks with my free hand. “And apparently, I can’t stop.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he replied. “Because, apparently, I can’t stop loving you, either, Aoife Molloy.”
“Joe, I’m so – ugh!” I sucked in a sharp breath.
"What's wrong?" he demanded, instantly on alert.
"Nothing. Baby's just kicking me really hard these days."
He was quiet for a long moment, clearly absorbing my words, before asking, “How’s my baby?”
“Growing by the minute,” I half-laughed/half-sobbed as I stroked my bump. “You should see me now, Joe. I’m like a beached whale.”
“I wish I was there with you,” he admitted quietly. “So fucking sorry for leaving you alone in this, Molloy. You’ll never know how much.”
“Just come home,” I whispered, feeling a shiver roll through me. “Get better and come home to us.”
“I am.”
“Wow.”
“Wow, what?”
“You said I am.” I clenched my eyes shut as a wave of hopeful warmth washed over my heart. “Not I will.” Sniffling, I added, “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say the words I am.”
“About time, huh?”
“Just a tad overdue.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Joe.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I soaked in every second of having his voice on the other line. “I can’t believe we’re finally talking.”
“I know,” he agreed thickly. “So, come on, queen, talk to me. Tell me what’s happening at home. Give me all your gossip.”
“Oh, so now you want my gossip?”
“The heart wants what it wants, Molloy.”
“Yeah, it does.” I bit down on my lip and grinned. “So, gossip. Hm…Al and Podge are in America for the summer.”
“No shit?”
“I shit you not.” I choked out a laugh. “They managed to snag J-1 visas.”
“Doing what?”
“Nannying.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“I swear it’s true.”
“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled, sounding half-amused, half-appalled. “Those two shouldn’t be left in charge of a tray of eggs.”
“Hey, you’re preaching to the converted,” I agreed with a snicker. “And Casey’s gone to Benidorm for two weeks with some of our class from school, so you can only imagine the deviant adventures she’s having over there.”
“Actually, I’d rather not,” he drawled. “So, you’re alone, queen?”
“Yeah.” I sighed in contentment. “But it’s not so bad.”
“No?”
“Not since you called.”
“Aoif.”
“Oh my god. I almost forgot to tell you!” I gasped and slapped a hand on my head. “Damn this baby brain.”
“Tell me what?”
“I had a visit from Paul.”
Silence.
“Chill, Joe.” His silence spoke volumes and I rolled my eyes. “I’m eight months pregnant. He’s not looking to steal me away.”