Love Thy Neighbour *editing*

(Epilogue) - "Riley, that's not FRIENDLY!"

Epilogue:

“Riley Adam Gallagher, stop throwing things!” I shouted at the top of my voice, tired of being completely ignored by every male in my family. My hyperactive, slightly mad six year old just grinned toothily at me before lobbing a book at my head.

I ducked, only for someone to groan behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I smirked at Niall, who was rubbing his forehead with his hand.

“Feckin’ hell,” he grumbled, going past me into Riley’s room. “Riley, don’t do this t’your old da’!” The manic shrieking that followed as a result of Niall rugby tackling our son onto his bed and tickling him into submission was at least better than the raging tantrums that might have ensued had we tried anything else.

Walking through to the kitchen to get Riley’s breakfast ready, I yawned, glancing at the pictures that lined the wall. It was like walking through a timeline; Riley’s first birthday, the day Niall fell into the duck pond, the night Sian curled Riley’s hair, the morning after Declan’s divorce party…the list went on and on.

But they were all happy memories.

“Riley, that’s not friendly!” Niall groaned from the other side of the flat. I grinned to myself, popping the toast in the toaster and getting the peanut butter out of the fridge. Absently, I unscrewed the top of the jar and started dipping my finger in it, scanning over the newspaper.

“That child,” Niall panted, coming into the kitchen, his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed, “is the devil incarnate.”

“No,” I replied, not even bothering to look up, “he’s a Gallagher.” The remark earned me a hair ruffle and a sarcastic roll of his eyes, which I saw through the reflection of the kitchen cabinets.

My man was a genius.

He busied himself around the kitchen, trying to find everything he needed for work, including his shoes. Recently, Riley had taken to hiding Niall’s shoes in a bid to stop him leaving the house. It was quite sweet in a sort of…strange, controlling, slightly worrying sort of way.

“Has he had his tablets?” Niall asked, quickly shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

“He has them with his breakfast,” I murmured, taking another finger full of peanut butter. Niall nodded, glancing at the jar before walking out of the kitchen, humming to himself. I hardly noticed as he backtracked, his eyebrow quirked.

“Evie?”

“Yeah?” I sighed, putting Riley’s breakfast out onto a plate. I popped out one of ADHD meds and put it out next to his orange juice, praying that the boy had put on his school uniform today.

“Are you eating peanut butter?” Niall asked. I nodded distractedly.

“Riley!” I called. “Your food’s out!” The thundering of small feet rocketing through the living room was followed by the bright face of the wee man, grinning up at us. At least his eyes were dark now, so he didn’t just look like a miniature clone of Niall. It was scary enough when he was sleeping, and he snored the same way as his dad; I might have keeled over if he was exactly the same during his waking hours as well.

Riley scrambled up onto his chair, hungrily digging into his food. It was probably the only time that he was quiet; his meal times. He liked his tuck, did Riley.

“Evie,” Niall repeated, this time quieter as he led me away from the finely tuned ears of our son. I looked up at him quizzically; if he was about to tell me that he was working late, I was going to be the one to throw a book at his head. He already spent most of his time on the beat.