Page 65 of Sins of Innocence

"That's something I'll be taking up with your teacher and their parents."

"You will? But—"

Joy bursts back into the kitchen, interrupting her sister. "Did you save my half of the honey bun?"

Dressed in her school uniform like Neeve now, Joy's hair has been smoothed and pulled into a ponytail that explodes in a big pouf of curls from the scrunchy, explaining why it took her so long to come back to the kitchen.

Sadie is right behind her. The twelve-year-old is dressed but not wearing a school uniform, confirming she has no plans to go to school today.

None of them will be going, but I'll wait to break that news to them until their mom and gran join us.

I direct both girls to their cocoa and the pastries before reheating my coffee and leaning against the wall by the fridge to drink it.

Sadie starts the kettle before sitting down with her sisters. "Mom told me you got gran tea, but she won't drink it." Sadie looks apologetic. "Gran only drinks tea steeped in water brought to a boil."

"My gran was the same." I push off from the wall and grab Maureen's cup before removing the lid to pull out the sachet of Barry's Irish Breakfast Tea and lay it beside the empty cup near the electric kettle.

All three girls are looking at me when I turn back around.

"Gran is going to like that," Sadie says. "She'll say you show good Irish sense…"

"For a man," Joy and Neeve finish with giggles.

"I see how it is. I'm well outnumbered in this family," I tease back, feeling a strange lightness in my chest.

"You are," Neeve crows and all three girls crack up.

"What's all this ruckus now?" Maureen bustles into the kitchen, Áine two steps behind her.

They've been in the living room for the last couple of minutes. Although I could hear the muffled sound of their voices, I couldn't distinguish any words. Contrary to what my woman thinks, I do not have the ears of a bat.

"Kieran brought us breakfast!" Joy shouts.

Neeve stands up, grabbing her now empty cocoa cup and used napkin. "Sit here, gran. I'm done."

"Sit yourself down, cailín. Pastries are well and good but you'll be eating some eggs before you leave the table."

I toss my coffee cup in the trash and open the fridge to pull out a carton of eggs. "Fried or scrambled," I ask.

Maureen sizes me up. "You're not one of those men who doesn't know how to boil water for tea then?"

"No."

At her mother's bemused look, Áine says, "Kieran isn't much of a talker, mom."

"Can I trust him with our breakfast eggs?" Maureen asks her daughter.

"If he says he can cook, then he can," is Áine's evasive but firm answer.

Maureen looks back at me. "Although I've a mind to test that theory, I'll not have a guest cooking me breakfast in my own kitchen."

"I invited myself over for breakfast, it's only right I make it."

"Set those down by the stove and make yourself useful bringing that stool to the table." She nods toward a stool stored in an empty space between cabinets under the countertop. "Then you can get the chair from my bedroom."

"Copy that."

A smile edges the corners of the older woman's mouth upward but there's a flash of sadness in her eyes and Áine winces.