December 24th, 2003.
It was Christmas Eve, and saying today went amazing would be the biggest understatement of my life.
The morning started off quietly enough. I was curled up on the sofa, blanket wrapped around me, watching whatever Christmas movie happened to come on. The house was empty; Eloise was out with her mam and dad getting last-minute decorations, Kevin was at a friend's, Aoife was off with Joey—lucky him, having a Christmas Day birthday—and Auntie Trish and Uncle Tony were off doing whatever it is they do on Christmas Eve.
Then, I heard the front door creak open. I barely glanced up, assuming it was one of them coming back. But when the living room door opened, I felt myself go completely still. My dad was standing there, smiling. My dad, who wasn't supposed to be out yet, who was usually only on the other side of that cold, metal table with officers sitting nearby. But he was here. Home.
"Oh my god!" The words burst out, and I was on my feet in seconds, running straight into his arms. "I didn't know you were getting out!"
"Wanted to surprise you," he said, his voice warm and full of that familiar laugh I'd missed so much. He hugged me back tightly, like he'd been waiting for this moment just as long as I had. "Merry Christmas, Princess."
It felt surreal. No more stiff visits under watchful eyes. He was here, really here, holding me like he was never going to let go. And right then, it felt like all those years without him just melted away. For the first time in forever, everything felt right.
We sat and talked for hours. There was so much to catch up on. We talked about school, my 16th birthday, everything that had happened while he was away. He told me he'd be working for Uncle Tony and was hoping to put a deposit on a house soon. He said it so simply, but the idea of him finally having a place of his own felt huge, like we were finally getting a chance to build something that had always been just out of reach.
There was so much I wanted us to do together. We'd never spent a single day together outside those brief visits, never had those everyday moments that other people took for granted. I wanted him to see my world, meet the people who mattered to me—especially Connor. That thought twisted my stomach a bit. I was excited but nervous, wondering what Connor would think of him, what Dad would think of Connor. I wanted them to like each other, but I knew it wouldn't be that simple.
All these years, I'd dreamed about this, but now that it was real, it felt even bigger than I could have imagined.
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New Year's Eve.
"Sorry I'm late," Connor said, stepping into the house. "Traffic's mental." He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead, pulling me close with that familiar grip. I forced a smile, ignoring the tension I always tried to brush off. Tonight was supposed to be a fresh start. Dad was here, I was with Connor, and for once, I wanted to believe everything would be fine.
"Dad, this is Connor," I said, doing my best to keep things light. I watched as Dad got up from the sofa, giving Connor a long, appraising look. Connor didn't miss a beat, extending his hand confidently.
"Good to finally meet you, sir. I've heard a lot about you."
Dad's handshake was firm, his face unreadable. "Is that so?" he said with an edge that felt sharper than I'd expected. "Well, it's good to meet you, too."
Connor kept his arm around me, pulling me in just a little tighter, as if staking some kind of claim. I barely noticed. I was used to how he was, used to the way his moods could change without warning. Tonight, though, I was hoping Dad wouldn't pick up on anything. I wanted him to see the good side of Connor—the side that made me laugh, the side that made it feel like he was the only person in the world who understood me.
But I could feel Dad watching, his gaze lingering just a second too long on the way Connor's hand gripped my shoulder. I kept my own smile fixed, laughing at Connor's jokes, staying close to him in that way I'd gotten used to, hoping Dad wouldn't see past the version of us I wanted to believe in.
Dad's voice was calm, but I sensed something steely beneath it. "So, Connor, what are your plans for the new year?"
Connor shrugged, giving a quick smile. "Oh, you know, just taking care of things. Making sure she's all right." He looked down at me, giving my shoulder a little squeeze that almost felt like a warning.
I nodded quickly, brushing it off. Dad didn't need to know about our arguments, or the way Connor could turn in an instant. Tonight was about moving forward. But the way Dad's expression tightened, I knew he could see what I was trying to ignore.