He’d spent Thursday night on the floor in front of the door in wet clothing, Seamus curled up next to him. He’d paid for that, waking up the next day with a stiff neck and the mother of all head colds. Since then, he’d called in sick to work, alternating his naps between his bed and the couch, lacking the energy, strength, or desire to do anything else.
Riley had shown up Friday, armed with chicken noodle soup, and his mother had come by yesterday with a plate of leftover roast from the Saturday dinner he’d missed. That was all he’d eaten in the last three days, and he wouldn’t have consumed more than a few bites of either of the meals if his aunt and mother hadn’t planted themselves next to him, waiting until he finished every bit.
Today, while he felt better physically, the bottom had dropped out on him emotionally.
There was no doubt his entire family knew what had happened between him and Emmy. Secrets didn’t exist in the Collins clan.
Riley had asked where Emmy was and he’d choked on the words, simply shaking his head, only managing to say she wasn’t there. He’d been too sick to shield his emotions, to hide the fact that he was down and out due to more than just a head cold. His aunt was too astute, too observant. She had inherited Pop Pop’s sixth sense when it came to knowing things.
He suspected one phone call from Riley to Sunnie, followed by one call from Sunnie to Emmy, was all it would have taken for them to put the pieces together, to discover that he’d broken things off and why.
When his mom had shown up Saturday, he’d expected a third degree. He must have looked worse than he’d realized because she’d given him a bye, not mentioning Emmy’s name at all. Which was good. Because he hadn’t cried in front of his mother since he was a kid. He hadn’t even let her see him fall apart after Mia’s death because she’d been devastated by the loss as well.
But he was damn sure he wouldn’t have been able to hold back the tears if she’d asked him about Emmy on Saturday, his emotions a train wreck, riding too close to the surface.
He closed his eyes wearily and sighed when he heard a knock on the door. He wasn’t surprised someone was there. He was just curious who the family had elected as their spokesperson today.
Rising, he opened the door and spotted his first guess for today’s visitor.
Pop Pop gave him an easy smile and held up a doggie bag from the pub. “Thought I’d see if you had your appetite back yet. Brought you your favorite comfort food.”
“Burger and fries?”
Pop Pop nodded and handed him the bag, which Padraig took with a quick word of thanks.
Rather than open the food, he placed the bag on the coffee table and gestured toward a chair, silently inviting his grandfather to sit down.
“You feeling better?”
Padraig nodded. “Yeah. I can breathe again and my cough is almost gone. I’ll start back to work tomorrow,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure he would follow through on that. Being around people was the last thing he wanted at the moment. In fact, he’d prefer to hibernate right here in his apartment for the next decade or so, but there was no way in hell that was happening. If he didn’t show up to work within the next day or two, a Collins mob would descend to drag him out.
“Good, good. Glad you’re better,” Pop Pop murmured. “I’m sure everyone will be happy to hear that. Your mom and aunts are worried.”
“They don’t need to be. I’m fine.”
The look Pop Pop gave him told Padraig he didn’t believe that lie for a second. “Health-wise, I suspect you are fine. But we both know there are different types of ailments.” Pop Pop paused for just a moment before adding, “I know what day it is, Paddy. I just wanted to say that I miss that lovely girl too.”
Padraig swallowed heavily. Pop Pop had been one of his main sources of support—along with Colm and Kelli—after Mia’s passing. They’d both shared a similar grief, losing their wives far too early.
“Three years,” Pop Pop mused.
Padraig nodded. “A long time.”
Pop Pop shrugged. “Time is relative.”
Padraig didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.
Pop Pop absentmindedly rubbed his knuckles. He suffered from arthritis, the result of a lifetime spent working with his hands. “I spoke to Kelli this morning. Apparently she and the girls went over to Emmy’s last night, armed with margaritas.”
Padraig gave his grandfather a ghost of a smile. “I’m glad they were there for her. I—” Padraig’s throat closed painfully. She would need friends, since he couldn’t be there for her himself. Even though it felt as if he’d ripped his own heart out, he knew that breaking things off was for the best. Walking away before…before things got too serious was better. For both of them. “I fucked up. Hurt her. Broke things off badly.”
Pop Pop sighed. “I heard. Paddy…” he started.
Padraig waved his grandfather’s words away. “I know what you’re going to say, Pop Pop, but it’s not going to change anything.”
“What do you think I’m going to say?”
“That I overreacted.” Padraig knew he had. He’d seen those test results and lost his shit. He should have taken some time, calmed down, approached Emmy with a more level head. Maybe then he wouldn’t still ache over the pain he’d caused her.
“I don’t think you overreacted, lad. I think you reacted the way anyone would when faced with their greatest fear.”
“My greatest fear,” Padraig repeated as he considered something he hadn’t before, something he wanted his grandfather to confirm. “What’s my greatest fear?”
“Losing someone you love.”
“I don’t think…” Padraig started, wanting to deny it but knowing he couldn’t. “I did overreact. But I wasn’t wrong. I can’t do it again, Pop Pop. Can’t feel that pain.”
“And that’s why you reacted the way you did. But, my dear lad, that’s not a choice you can make, not something you can control.”
“Actually it is. It’s why I walked away,” Padraig insisted, wondering if Pop Pop realized he was helping him make his case. “You have to see that. Have to understand that, right? I walked away before either of us could get hurt.”
“Oh, I think it’s safe to say that ship has sailed.” Pop Pop leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Emmy makes you happy. That girl loves you. She’d give you the world if you’d accept it. But you’re throwing that away because you’re afraid. You can’t let your fears rule you.”
Padraig refused to listen. “When I saw that letter from Emmy’s doctor, it brought up everything. Everything Mia went through. All the pain she suffered, that she’d been forced to endure. It wasn’t fair to her. None of it was fair.”
“You went through all that too, Padraig.”
Padraig shook his head, but Pop Pop forged on, refusing to accept his denial. “You suffered too,” his grandfather said insistently.
“You don’t understand,” Padraig argued, running a hand through his hair, certain it was standing on end after too many days lying in bed.
Pop Pop rubbed his jaw, a sadness in his eyes that Padraig didn’t see too often. His grandfather was good at masking his darker feelings, never letting those he loved know he was sad or upset. Padraig had watched him shutter away his desolation over the fire at the pub countless times during their trip to Ireland.