LOVE || 4Clover Romance Book 2||

|3|

In the Blood by John Mayer

|Cillian|

Goddammit! I'm such an idiot. Why can't I let myself have her? Why can't I admit what everyone already knows? Why not tell Cian that I'm madly in love with his sister? All these questions that I have no answer for.

I slump back into the only free armchair left in my overcrowded living room. My idle fingers pick at the old brown leather, peeling off the worn arm. Ma really needs to toss this hunk of shite.

I fucking hate this chair. He used to always sit here, right beside the fireplace; blocking any heat from escaping into the rest of the room. Every night, he would come home from the pub after working on whatever the hell job he had that day and plonk himself into this chair. He'd kick his tattered boots off and order my mother to go grab him a can of stout from the fridge. "Woman! Get me a Guinness."

Just thinking about him makes my fucking skin crawl. For years, he has been a noose around my neck, his toxicity poisoning my every thought. He's like an unbearable itch I can never relieve myself of, no matter how hard I try.

I reach for the full bottle of Jameson sitting on the rickety oak coffee table in front of me. I need it, especially if I have to endure this sham of a party. I lift the green glass bottle to my lips, swinging back the amber liquid like a can of soda. The golden liqueur burns its way down my oesophagus, taking away all the bad memories I don't want to face. Alcohol does a great job of drowning out my emotions, it's the only thing I can count on to take away the ache in my chest.

I scan the room, trying to make out all the blurred faces. Clearly, I've had a little more to drink than I originally thought. Sitting back, I close my eyes and allow my mind to drift away from the noise, back to a time where I believed a man like me could have his happy ever after.

"Mammy, are princesses real?"

"Yes baby, of course, they are; and one day, when you're older you'll find your very own princess. You'll fall in love and live happily ever after." Her hazel eyes—that are the mirror of my own—sparkle like diamonds against her stress-filled face.

"But Mammy, I think I already found her... she's in the garden."

She lets out one of her big, hearty, belly laughs. Her hands ruffle my hair and the smile on her face spreads further.

"That's great, baby, what's her name?" She takes my hands in hers, listening intently to every word I have to say.

"I don't know, but she's out in the garden. She's playing with Lily." I pull her towards the window above the kitchen sink; and point towards the little girl with the black hair my sister is playing with, I don't know her name. Not yet!

"Can you see her, Mammy? Isn't she pretty? She will be my princess. She looks just like Snow White."

"Yes sweetie, I see her. She is very beautiful, just like a real princess."

With my voice full of hope, I ask, "Do you know her name, mammy?"

"Rosie," She squeezes my tiny hand with hers. "Her name is Rosie."

I grip the bottle a little tighter, forcing myself to push the memory back. I must have been about five or six the day I decided Rosie was the one for me.

I didn't understand what love meant back then, but looking back on it now, I realize I've loved Rosie Mulligan from the very first moment I saw her.