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    Sweet Days (Four Days Book 2)

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      never felt before.

      “Are you still in love with him?”

      She sighs sadly. “I stopped loving him the day

      he told me he went to bed with someone else.”

      God, what a relief. I didn’t think I could be

      affected so badly by jealousy.

      “I don’t want anything from you, I swear.

      Nothing that you might be thinking. I just want to

      be near you.”

      “Really? Why?”

      “Because this is where I want to be.”

      She nods and rests her back against the couch.

      Then she smiles and with that smile goes another

      big piece of my dignity.

      What the hell do what you want with my

      dignity? I don’t care if you use it to make a dog

      bed.

      “I’m hungry,” she says out of the blue as if

      nothing we’ve said ’til now had any importance.

      “I’m always hungry. I’m dying of hunger. And I

      don’t know how to cook,” she confesses, making a

      pouty face like a naughty little girl. “I always eat

      the same garbage.”

      ‘We can fix that,” I say, swallowing a victorious

      smile as I start to breathe a bit easier.

      13

      Erin

      I go to the back room to get a few bottles of

      whiskey that are needed at the bar, confident there

      is no one there, but then I am blocked by a few

      voices at the door. I know I shouldn’t listen in on

      the guys’ conversations, but Patrick’s voice makes

      me stop dead in my tracks.

      “Guys, I don’t know if I can get away just now.”

      “You?” Jay speaks. “Just you with nothing to tie

      you down, you who can’t wait to jump in a new

      saddle? Don’t bullshit us, Patrick. You’re the only

      one who has nothing to lose.”

      Patrick doesn’t answer but remains silent for a

      few minutes.

      “Is there something you want to tell us?” Liam

      asks.

      I sneak a bit closer to see as well as hear what’s

      going on. Patrick shakes his head and moves,

      getting ready to leave the room. When he raises his

      glance he sees me and stops at the storage room

      door.

      “Excuse me, guys,” I say embarrassed, realizing

      that by now they’ve all seen me. “I didn’t want to

      disturb you, but I need to grab a few things,” I

      mutter nervously gesturing with my hands. I can

      feel I’m about to start crying again for no good

      reason.

      “No problem,” Patrick cuts it short. “You didn’t

      interrupt anything, we’re done here.”

      I look down at my hands because I can’t look at

      any of them.

      “Hey, is everything okay?” Jay asks, looking

      first at me and then at Patrick.

      “Perfect,” I say with a strained voice. “Maybe

      I’ll come back later.” I turn to go back into the bar

      but Patrick blocks me.

      “Wait, Erin, let me go with you.”

      Without waiting for him, I hurry back because I

      do not want to listen to his explanations, if indeed

      he had any intention of giving me any. After all,

      why should he? He’s free, independent and with no

      bonds. He doesn’t have to explain anything to me.

      “Erin.” His voice is sweet and strained and even

      if I somehow feel betrayed and in a certain sense

      disappointed, I cannot resist that tone of voice,

      which disarms me.

      “You don’t have to tell me anything, Patrick, it’s

      your life.”

      “I’d like to explain.”

      “Instead, you shouldn’t,” I say with decision but

      without having the nerve to look at him and

      keeping him behind me. “You don’t owe me

      anything. I’m not your problem,” I conclude,

      before going back to the dining hall, leaving my

      heart on the pavement.

      ~ ~ ~

      “London?” I ask meekly.

      Rain brings me up to date on the situation. Even

      if I was able to infer something from their

      discussion, I didn’t want to hear Patrick’s version

      of it.

      “A manager called them for a meeting. He

      seems interested in their music.”

      “Oh,” I say, surprised. I didn’t know anything

      about it, and yet Patrick spent all night at my

      house last night. Didn’t he think to let me know

      about it?

      “It could mean a big change, you know … they

      might be away for a while and we’d have to call in

      more help here.”

      “I understand.”

      I understand very well. All those words, that

      story about wanting to be close to me … what a

      jackass.

      “Everything alright?”

      “Yes, everything’s fine, Rain. I’m going to get

      the tables ready for tonight.”

      I need to get away because Rain can see right

      through me and I’m not up to it right now that my

      disappointment’s burning my eyes and massacring

      my heart. And to think I believed it. For one night

      I believed his words and started hoping.

      He made me pancakes and created a stupid

      smile out of Nutella on them, covered them with

      whipped cream and made me some tea. We

      laughed in front of the TV until I fell asleep on the

      couch. He took me in his arms and brought me to

      bed and gave me a kiss on my forehead, wishing

      me goodnight. And tonight I dreamt that that

      stupid kiss on the forehead was something more. I

      woke up in a great mood today, like I was me

      again, like I could make it. And now, I’m right

      back where I started.

      Damned men.

      Damned Patrick.

      Damned fool I am.

      ~ ~ ~

      What a miserable night. I’m having a hard time

      keeping up with orders and I took more breaks

      than necessary in order to keep going all night.

      Rain sent me up an hour before closing, worried

      about me. She thinks I’m tired, that I’m pushing it

      too much. The truth is that my chest hurts and I

      have a weight on my heart that’s as big as a

      mountain, again, and that I should not have

      deceived myself.

      Patrick left this morning at dawn, at least that’s

      what Rain told me. The guys will be gone for a

      few days. A record-house manager contacted them

      and asked them to come out and play a few pieces.

      This could be a new beginning for them and a

      massive disappointment for me. After our brief

      discussion yesterday afternoon, I avoided him at

      all costs last night and closed the apartment door

      and locked it. So he couldn’t come ask me to talk

      about it again.

      I get into bed, hugging a silly stuffed animal my

      father gave me when I was eight years old, and

      which I’ve never given up. I hug it tightly, looking

      for warmth and comfort, but it’s only a stuffed

      animal and not able to give me what I want from a

      pair of strong tattooed arms.

      Then I let myself fall into a tormented sleep,

      made of dark, falling stairs, vertigo that swa
    llows

      me up in an immense nothingness.

      I don’t know how long I slept, I only know I can

      feel a fresh hand on my forehead that is refreshing

      against a hammering headache I’ve had since I fell

      asleep.

      As I open my eyes, I blink a few times until I’m

      able to focus on the image in front of me. I try to

      speak but my voice doesn’t come out and I start

      crying, which has sort of become my daily bread.

      “Shh … don’t cry, everything’s fine,” Patrick

      tells me.

      “Wha … what are you doing here?”

      “I didn’t want to wake you, I’m sorry, I just

      passed by to see how you were doing.”

      “I thought you were in London,” I say,

      confused.

      “I’m back,” he says, giving me a melancholy

      smile.

      “But surely you only left this morning?”

      “Uh, yes, well, I remembered something I had

      to do.”

      I pull myself up to a sitting position and rest my

      back on the headboard.

      “It was something that is so important I had to

      come back right away.”

      “And what’s that?” I ask, still confused.

      “This,” he says, before taking my face in his

      hands and drawing in close to my lips. Then he

      brushes them so slightly that I barely feel his touch

      but the heat from his breath penetrates the barriers

      of my mind, making me give in to the inevitable.

      Patrick kisses my lips, little short kisses that

      make me afraid I’ll start crying again. Then he

      stops and looks me in the eyes, giving me one of

      those sweet looks, sensual and intense, that drag

      me with him into the abyss.

      “Is it alright?” he asks gazing at me with

      penetrating eyes and talking in an impassioned

      voice.

      I nod.

      I forget that I’m pregnant by another man and

      every probable consequence that will happen the

      moment that he put his lips on mine again, inviting

      me to open them and let him in.

      And I do it, stupidly irrespective of the big

      damage we’re doing to each other, because it’s

      Patrick, because he came back for me, because

      he’s strong and sexy and I want to feel every beat

      of his heart inside me.

      His hot tongue tickles mine, which follows right

      after his meeting the warmth of his mouth, which

      is in contrast with his cold metal piercing, which I

      hated from the first day, but that I now adore as if

      it were the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

      And we kiss each other for who knows how

      long, as he caresses my face, dries my tears and

      gives me a night of infinite sweetness and warmth,

      holding me to his bare chest and where I am

      finally able to relax without descending into the

      darkness, without falling and without fear.

      Patrick

      The episode of the manager and the meeting was a

      huge mistake. I can’t believe I left her alone now,

      just after having asked her to let me get close.

      Where the hell was my head when I accepted this

      whole plan?

      Sure, I’ve always been the one to push the band

      to get back together, to play music, it’s true. I’m

      the one who always hoped there’d be more for us

      than just playing at the pub and this stupid fucking

      one-horse town. I was the one who wanted Four

      Reasons To Die to have another chance. Music has

      always been our dream and I never understood

      why Liam was so reluctant in the beginning.

      I do now.

      And when I started feeling a knot tightening in

      my throat that was threatening to suffocate me in

      that studio full of people with instruments and

      serious expressions, I understood that I was in the

      wrong place with the wrong people.

      I walked out of that room, called a taxi and went

      straight to the airport. I got on the next available

      flight for Dublin and came home.

      I came back to her.

      After the other night, in which I did everything

      but make a move, I can’t believe I was able to go

      get that stupid flight without having told her how

      much I dreamed about brushing her lips and

      kissing her until we were both breathless.

      And I swear that’s it.

      All the rest isn’t important for now. Now I just

      want to taste her and leave my flavor in her mouth

      and in her head so that she won’t be able to forget

      it.

      I let Aaron, Jay and Liam carry on for

      themselves. I’m a shitty friend and an even worse

      musician, because I feel like I’ve thrown

      everyone’s dreams to the wind and I don’t give a

      damn and I don’t regret it.

      I don’t know how the guys are going to take it,

      or the manager or the guys who work for the

      recording studio. They’ll probably ask for my

      head.

      So be it.

      I really couldn’t care less.

      Because I have to stay here.

      With her.

      I pay the taxi driver, leaving him the entire

      wallet of money as he yells after me. What does he

      want, what do I care? I need to run to the upstairs

      apartment now, before it’s too late, before she

      thinks I’ve abandoned her.

      I race upstairs, the door is closed but I was

      smart and brought the reserve keys with me. I open

      the door and look around, everything is dark and

      silent. So I go to the room where she’s sleeping,

      clutching a stuffed animal that looks like it’s seen

      better days.

      I approach her and sit on the bed. I take a deep

      breath and encourage myself not to be a coward, to

      dive in without overthinking it, even if that means

      not having future resentment after she has

      shattered my heart to a million pieces

      Then I gently rub her forehead with my hand

      and she moves in her sleep. She opens and closes

      her eyes a few times before realizing what’s

      happening.

      I tell her that I’ve forgotten to do something

      important that couldn’t be put off. So I lean in and

      take her face in my hands. I taste her lips, so

      slowly that I’m barely able to get the flavor. Then I

      look at her with my eyes and my whole face,

      because I’m here for her, to kiss her, comfort her

      or just to let her cry on my shoulder. And I would

      like to tell her that I’d be willing to make her

      pancakes every night of her life just to share this

      moment together.

      I kiss her and tie my tongue to hers and begin

      playing with it, letting her feel the metal of my

      piercing which I know she’ll like. She puts her

      hand on the back of my head and gently rubs it and

      I almost lose my breath at that touch because it’s

      intimate, intense and important.

      All of this is damned important.

      Even if I’d like to run as far away as possible

      because I’m scared of what’s happening to me, I’m

      terrified and I con
    fess that it makes me shake like

      a child at his first dentist appointment. I’m staying,

      because there’s no other place I’d rather be, there’s

      no other place where I could feel every emotion

      and every heartbeat directly from the heart.

      There’s no other place that I could know that

      love, perhaps, does exist.

      We kiss until we’re both breathless. I don’t

      know if it’s because of the kiss or the fact that I’ve

      been holding my breath since I touched down in

      Dublin, or the fact that I’m seriously having

      trouble getting air in my lungs. So, I lay her down,

      wrap her in my arms and keep her safe.

      All night, and all those nights to come.

      If she wants me.

      I squeeze her and give her the sense of security

      she needs to face what’s happening to her. I hold

      her to me, leaving her to breathe on my bare chest

      and let her take my shitty soul, that left alone with

      me would have been destined to burn in hell.

      And I let her fall asleep like that, while I don’t

      make a move, paralyzed by her presence, her

      sweetness and her ability to melt a heart in

      hibernation like mine.

      I don’t close my eyes all night. I want to stay

      awake, ready. I don’t want to miss even one of her

      breaths.

      I place my hands on her round abdomen and an

      emotion I’ve never felt before strikes me directly

      in the heart. I caress her skin slowly and inhale as

      much air as possible to find the courage to go

      ahead with this thing, not to pull back, not to hit

      the road running as usual.

      I want to be there.

      I want to remain here.

      This time I want to hear everything and take all

      that she’s got to give.

      I never thought I would have given in like this,

      not in a million years.

      And yet, here I am, with no shield, no mask and

      no weapons.

      I’m naked in front of her with my heart on my

      sleeve, vulnerable and all I can do is hope that

      she’ll be careful with it, like I will be careful with

      hers.

      14

      Erin

      Patrick left the apartment early this morning,

      telling me that he would be back at lunchtime and

      that he wanted to take me someplace. I don’t know

      what I’m doing and maybe neither does he, but I

      find myself in front of the mirror trying to make

      myself look presentable, hiding the bags under my

      eyes with a little bit of concealer. Getting dressed

      was even harder. I’m only at the beginning of my

     


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