The thought barely finishes forming before reality snaps its teeth around my heart.
I am not allowed this kind of happiness—not in any permanent way.
Yes, Sandro and Evi will soon have little ones running around whom I can enjoy, but Genevieve is gone, and Riley isn’t mine to keep.
Neither is Aisling.
She’s here until the war is done. Until the blood debt is paid. Then she will leave, and I’ll be alone once more. The reality check opens a hole in my chest, sudden and deep, and it’s all I can do not to scream.
21
AISLING
The weekend with Riley feels like a pocket of stolen time, bright and fragile and impossible to hold onto.
She fills the house with her presence in a way no amount of restoration work ever could.
Her laughter ricochets down hallways that once swallowed sound.
Her shoes are kicked off in odd corners.
Evi even taped her drawings to the refrigerator, insisting they belong in a gallery.
And I let myself revel in the two days of joy and laughter.
It feels so right to have Riley here with me, teasing Raf mercilessly, creating endless worlds of imagination in her head.
Sunday afternoon creeps in gently, cruel in its quiet.
The sky outside the tall windows is pale and cloudless, the unusual blue hue for fall making the end of my time with her feel sharper.
Riley sits on the floor of her bedroom beside me, arranging her stuffed animals into a very serious-looking tea party.
“This one’s you,” she says, handing me Mr. Teddy with solemn responsibility. “He’s brave.”
I smile, my chest aching. “I’ll take good care of him.”
“You have to,” she says gravely. “He’s sensitive.”
I laugh, but my eyes burn, and I blink quickly, pressing my lips together. She notices anyway, a tiny frown buckling her brows.
“Sissy, are you sad?” she asks, scooting closer until her knee bumps mine.
“Just a little,” I admit. “I’ve loved having you here. But that’s okay. I know Mamma and Papa will be happy to get you back.”
Riley nods like she understands everything there is to understand about the world.
Then she crawls into my lap and hugs me, her arms tight around my neck. “I’ll come back,” she says. “Promise.”
“I know you will,” I whisper into her hair.
The crunch of tires on gravel outside feels like a countdown reaching zero, and I squeeze her just a bit tighter.
Riley stiffens, then slides off my lap with a dramatic sigh. “Time to go?” she asks, her disappointment plain in her tone.
“I think so.”
I help her gather her things slowly, as if moving carefully enough might delay time itself.