Page 18 of Steadfast

“Richie’s like, the best guy ever.” She scowled. “And he keeps hanging out here all the time, and you guys never go do fun stuff or anything!”

“He likes hanging here with us.”

“He’s going to get bored,” she blurted. Her mouth snapped shut afterward, but the words had already escaped.

“You think he’s going to bail because I don’t do enough fun shit?” I asked carefully.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, turning away.

“He won’t,” I assured her, not willing to even acknowledge that I’d had the same fear often.

“You don’t know that.”

“We’ve been together for three years,” I pointed out logically. “Don’t you think he knows what he’s gotten himself into?”

“Well, why don’t you at least try?” she snapped.

“Saoirse, look at me,” I ordered. I waited until she’d spun back around, her mouth in a mutinous line. “This is my life. Our house, you guys, my job—that’s who I am. This is the life I’m living. Richie wants to be a part of that, which is awesome. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t. It’s as simple as that.”

“What if he wants to get married?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m eighteen! I’m not marrying anyone for a long time.”

“In five years?” She glared. “In ten? What, are you just going to bring us with you?”

“I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

“Do you really think that he’s going to stay?” she asked in exasperation.

“Where the hell is this coming from?” I asked, getting to my feet.

“We’re stuck here,” she ground out. “You aren’t.”

“The fuck, I’m not,” I retorted. “Where I am, you are. That’s it. Conversation over.”

“Conversationnotover,” she hissed.

“What the fuck are you arguin’ about?” Cian asked, jogging down the stairs. “Jesus.”

“Saoirse is worried that Richie is going to get bored with me because I never do anything fun,” I replied flatly.

“And because you have four fucking kids,” Saoirse said hotly.

“I don’t know why you think this is any of your business!”

“Both of you shut up,” Cian barked. “For fuck’s sake. Sersh, have you seen Aoife? Dude’s not going anywhere.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I think.”

“If he bails, he bails,” Cian said with a shrug. “But I don’t think he will. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was getting into, and he keeps on coming back. Like herpes.”

“Please,” I groaned. “Dear God, please tell me you don’t have fucking herpes.”

“Of course not.” Cian grinned. “I always wrap it before I pack it.”

“Ew!” Saoirse made retching noises.

“If you’re having sex, I will lock you in your room for the entire fucking summer,” I spat, glaring at him.

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