We’ve been to the shops to grab a few supplies. It’s all unpacked and in the cupboards.
We’re going to the GAA pitch now. Tadhg wants to show me his ‘mad skills’ and Ollie wants to hit the playground afterwards.
I’ll bring them back around 1pm before my shift at work.
Don’t forget to give Shan her birthday presents. And give her a big squishy sweet sixteenth birthday hug from me.
I know you’re really busy, but could you swing by my house after the kids are in bed tonight? There’s something I really need to talk to you about.
I love you,
Aoife. x
P.S: don’t stop trying, Joe.
The house was spotless, the fridge was packed, the cupboards were full, and I felt sick to my stomach over it.
Good intentions or not, it wasn’t my girlfriend’s job to look after my family and put food on the table, it was mine, and I didn’t need her taking on my shit for me.
Especially since I was having such a hard time trying to make sense of why she would even want to.
Any other girl would have run for the hills the minute they felt the full weight of my excess baggage.
Not Molloy, though.
No, instead, she waded into the middle of my bullshit with bags of shopping and budgeting solutions. And then she slapped coats and hats on three quarters of said baggage and took them to the fucking playground.
She’d left both her car and twenty quid from her purse behind for me to take Shannon out for a birthday breakfast.
I didn’t understand her actions, and I understood her reasons for said actions even less.
Shannon, on the other hand, wasn’t one bit surprised by my girlfriend’s weird as fuck behavior. On the contrary, she reveled in my discomfort, finding it absolutely fucking hilarious that I had somehow come under the thumb of a girl with bigger balls than I had. Taking delight in my discomfort, my sister goaded and tormented me with notions of wedding rings and forever, making it perfectly clear that she was a solid fan of my girlfriend.
Her smug grin wasn’t long evaporating when a phone call from Gibsie had us driving back to lover boy’s house to return the phone he’d left in the backseat last night.
Yeah, Shannon’s tune had taken a drastic change by the time I parked up outside the manor, and it was my turn to revel in her discomfort.
Refusing point blank to get out of the car, I gave up on trying to convince her otherwise, and left her to it.
Strolling into a mansion of a foyer, I followed the sound of voices down an impressive hallway, and finally found both lads in the kitchen, looking a little lost for wear, and a lot hungover.
“You should have a tour guide at the front door,” I said, walking into his kitchen, phone in hand. “This house is like a museum.”
“That it is,” Gibsie agreed, giving me a friendly wave, from his perch in front of a fancy-ass range stove. “Welcome to the manor.”
The manor was right.
He could sell tickets to an open viewing of this place, and folks where I came from would arrive in throngs.
“Thanks for this.” Kav stood up and walked over to where I was standing in the doorway. “Appreciate you driving all the way over with it,” he said, polite as ever, as he pocketed his phone.
I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I was promised food.”
Taking his measure in the clear light of day, I begrudgingly admitted was a lot less appealing.
Clocking in just under 6’1, I had plenty of height to play with, but this fucker was simply enormous. Clearly, whatever his mother had fed him growing up, looked a lot different to the menu I’d been eating from.
“And King Clit was very persuasive,” I drawled, amused by the name Gibsie was stored under on his phone. “How’s my food coming along, chef?”
“Faster than a whore at a brothel, good sir,” Gibsie called over his shoulder, not missing a beat. “Egg?”
“Lad.” I shook my head, taking in the state of him – and the grease splattered tiles around him – as he attempted to fry a few rashers on a griddle pan. “Are you old enough to use the cooker without your mammy?”
“I doubt it,” he replied honestly. “It’s my first time.”
Another splatter of grease flew at his face, causing him to yelp like a wounded dog.
“Give me that thing before you hurt yourself,” I ordered, taking the spatula from him. “Fucking private school boys.” Mopping up the splatters with a nearby tea towel, I slung it over my shoulder, and worked to salvage the meat disintegrating on the pan. “Used to having everything done for ye.”
“Shit, Kav, I was wrong,” Gibsie chuckled, hovering over my shoulder like a child waiting for a slice of birthday cake to be cut. “This fucker right here is the daddy.”
“Give me some plates,” I instructed, annoyed by how close he was – literally breathing on me. “And some personal space.”
“On it,” he chuckled good-naturedly.
What a strange bastard.
“Do me a favor, will ya?” I said then, looking over my shoulder at Kavanagh. “Go and check on my sister, will ya?”
He was instantly alert now, hangover forgotten. “Shannon?”
“Yeah.” Nodding, I took the plate that Gibsie was holding out for me, and started to pile the rashers on it. “She’s out in the car.”
“Why would you leave her in the car?” he demanded. “It’s freezing outside.”
“Because she wouldn’t come in for me,” I replied calmly. “You can try to get her to come inside yourself if you want, but she’s not budging.”
He didn’t answer me.
Because he was too busy diving for the door.
I smirked.
“Lad,” Gibsie snickered, nudging my shoulder with his. “I think my best friend is a small bit obsessed with your sister.”
“What did I tell ya about personal space?” I snapped, and then waited for him to take a safe step back, before cracking an egg into the pan. “But yeah, I reckon my sister is a small bit obsessed with your best friend, too.”
“Aw shucks,” he mused, eyes dancing with mischief. “Isn’t young love fun?”
“Hm,” was all I muttered in response.
"Yeah, well, word of warning, Joey the hurler,” he chuckled. “If shit gets serious between them, which I have a feeling it already is, then your shy baby sister’s world is about to turn on its axis.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
Not one fucking bit.
“Explain.”
“Kav doesn’t ride waves unless he’s sure of the tide.”
“Okay; explain in plain English.”
“Alright.” Gibsie grinned. “Kav clearly wants your sister. Your sister clearly wants Kav. Maybe there’s a little more than just wanting each other going on here. Who knows? Either way, he’s someone whose intentions you take seriously.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously,” Gibsie confirmed. “Everything about Kav’s world is serious, stable, and selected since birth. His future is set in stone, and his plans are cemented in front of him, without an inch of moving space. So, if he’s moving shit around to make space for her, if he’s even considering putting her slap bang in the middle of those plans, then it’s not an accident. He’s about as spontaneous as a dustpan and brush, lad. So, if he decides to go there with your sister, you can be sure that he’ll have put together an entire thesis of the pros and cons of making such a move beforehand. Johnny’s careful, lad, and he’s stable, and when he makes a decision, it’s done intentionally and with permanence in mind.”