Page 11 of Intimately Faithful

“But be sure, Aoife, that we will talk tomorrow.” He warned, and she nodded. Then sighed. “Are you leaving?”

“Aye. I’ll just be over in the church locking up.”

“You’re a pastor, Danny. It’s like I’ve stepped into an alternate life, so I have.” She half-smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.

He couldn’t return it.

He would agree with her.

Life had shook them up, and then gave Danny a purpose and now they were thrown to earth again and left in a giant heap.

And he had no idea what to do next.

He lived an insular—steady, reliable life that was as far from drugs and scoring as many hits as humanly possible.

Was it conceivable for a heart to explode? He was about to find out.

But watching the former love of his life holding her baby while she sat on his bed was not in Danny’s wheelhouse of strengths.

Did she know just by looking at him how much he’d missed her?

He was after all, still a man with a healthy working body.

And Aoife had always been his one temptation.

THREE

“My heart is missing the Danny pieces.” – Aoife

The morning didn’t bring her any peace as the sun crested through the blinds at the double window and woke her from turbulent dreams of being chased through the streets by menacing shadows.

No guesses for what her psyche was trying to tell her.

Saved from any more stupidity, Misha began to wail at her side.

She’d made a makeshift crib on top of the big bed with pillows and for the first night in what felt like weeks, she slept soundly, only waking when the baby needed her.

“Hey, there little girl. Don’t you look pretty? Yes you do.” Misha instantly quietened. She was such a good baby, hardly made a fuss at all, as if the tiny one knew of her traumatic life.

Aoife frowned, picking her up, giving her good morning cuddles and kisses on top of her good smelling baby head.

She needed all her baby things.

Running for one’s life meant you couldn’t stop for the luxuries of even a toothbrush or comb.

She slipped out of bed, used the bathroom as best as she could while holding the baby. First things first, she needed to make Misha a bottle and some soft food.

“Are you hungry, sweet girl? Yeah, me too. Shall we go on an adventure downstairs?” A little fist batted against Aoife’s chin and she took that for agreement.

She’d slept only in her panties and camisole, so before she went anywhere she laid Misha on the bed and slid her legs into a pair of gray sweatpants folded up on a chair, along with a white T-shirt, fluffy socks and a hoodie. The clothes were comfortable and simple, and she was so grateful for the man who left them for her.

Last night when he’d left the bedroom she’d only managed to eat the grilled cheese, take a fast three-minute shower and then she’d fallen exhausted into bed.

Now she was more alert, she knew she had a lot of explaining to do.

Where to start, was the problem.

What the morning did bring was the wafting smells of hot buttered toast and coffee.

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