Chapter Fifty-Five Lila #2
Tiernan killed the engine in front of a stunning gray-stoned colonial with black shutters and floor-to-ceiling doors and windows.
It was a jaw-dropping mansion with two white columns on either way of the entrance, a grand balcony above it, four chimneys, and two wings spurting from each side of it.
There must be at least nine bedrooms in this place, I thought, as I took in the manicured bright green bushes bracketing the serpentine pathway to the house.
Tiernan stared at the manor. Grimly, he turned to me, rummaging in his pocket and depositing a small set of keys in my hand. “Here’s the something small I got you.”
“You got me a key?” I blinked, confused.
“Not just any key.” He gestured at the mansion. “One that opens the door to this house.”
I stared at him, processing the meaning of his words.
“Is this big enough for us?” He searched my face, something urgent flicking behind his eye.
“I’m sorry?” My pulse hammered against the side of my neck, my heart expanding like a sponge.
“Is the house big enough?” he repeated. “For you, me, Imma, the baby, and the other two or three you’ll want in the future, since, unlike me, you don’t detest people.”
Stunned, I stared at him, looking for the right words.
He…bought this? For me? For us?
“It’s a little shy of twelve thousand square feet.
Ten bedrooms. Way too many baths. A pool.
A tennis court. I think I’ll convert it to a stable, though.
I know you like horses.” He scratched his jaw absentmindedly.
“The kitchen is huge. There are two of them, actually. Imma will be happy. And the nurseries are good-sized.”
I seized his jawline, making him stop talking. I shook my head. He looked…dejected. Like he lost, somehow. And I knew why.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. But if you’re doing this just to appease me, please don’t.
We’ll find a way to fit everything in our apartment.
I don’t even need half the things we were gifted.
I’ll happily donate them. And Imma can stay with my parents.
I’ll be okay. All I care about is being with you. ”
“I’m not letting you and the baby live in Hunts Point.” He stared at me like I was insane. “Living above a pub…it’s no place for a new mother and a child.”
“But you love Hunts Point.”
“There are things I love more. One of them happens to sit right in front of me.”
“You don’t have to choose.”
“I do, and I am. I’ll be in New York daily, for work. You’ll be close to your parents and have all the assistance you need.”
I was going to argue, but it seemed his mind was set. I started signing something, but he ignored me, slipping out of the driver’s seat and opening the door for me.
Hesitantly, I stepped out and allowed myself a good look at the house.
It wasn’t as grand and flashy as my parents’, but ten times prettier. It looked like something out of the historical books I read about England, where soirees took place and people fell in love.
I got a little choked up as the soles of our shoes slapped the bricked trail toward the dramatic black door.
“Don’t you dare cry, Gealach.” Tiernan squeezed my hand in his, his expression stone-cold and oddly focused, like he was in the middle of an important mission. “We haven’t even reached the best part yet.”
The best part?
What could be better than gifting me an entire freaking house for my baby shower?
We walked into the foyer, and the scent hit me immediately.
Fresh paint. This must’ve been in the works for a while now.
A small tremor danced behind my sternum.
Dark hardwood floors and crown moldings greeted us.
The hallway was vast and newly remodeled.
The house was empty, but still felt somehow full.
Of promise and character and memories just waiting to be created between these walls.
My husband tugged me toward the kitchen.
The island and woodwork were painted navy, the backsplash a crème, veiny marble accented in blue. The parquet flooring still emitted the pleasant scent of freshly sawed wood.
Tiernan turned to spear me with a look. “I can already see Imma standing here, yelling at me not to leave crumbs in her kitchen.”
A giddy giggle escaped me.
We went up the wide-set stairway and onto the second floor.
First, we checked the residential wing of the house.
The master was luxuriously sparse, with separate bathrooms for both of us and a walk-in closet I could easily get lost in.
The nursery was painted baby blue, one wall already wallpapered with teddy bears hanging from balloons.
It was big enough to fit everything we were gifted, and more.
“Tiernan…” I choked out, breathless.
“Shh. There are two more surprises.” He yanked me to the other wing of the house. This feeling, of unrestrained happiness, was foreign to me. I felt like I could burst any minute with all the glee brimming inside me.
Tiernan stopped in front of a closed door, only a few feet away from a set of double doors down the hallway.
He opened the door.
It was an art room.
With huge windows to let the place air, a heavy wooden easel, a desktop, and portable drawers with supplies. There were canvases and brushes and pencils and paints. Inspiration boards and palettes and different shade lamps.
Tiernan knew nothing about art, and yet he took the time and the effort.
He did this for me.
He did all of this for me.
I cupped my mouth, overcome with emotions.
“This is perfect. Is it okay to cry now?” I signed. “Because I’m dangerously close.”
“Almost.” He put his finger in the air, motioning for me to hold. “Give me about…” He scowled at his watch. “Eight more minutes.”
I couldn’t imagine anything better than what he’d already shown me. But I nodded my agreement, letting him lead me back into the hallway, and in front of the double doors.
He stopped, turning to me fully. He shoved his hand into his front pocket, producing something small in his hand.
“What’s this?”
“I know that Tate Blackthorn gave you your first dance. I can’t take that away from him. Truth be told, I’m not sure I want to. It’s your fondest memory, and as much as I hate him, I love that you have something that pleased you so much.”
My heart accelerated. My breath hitched. Tiernan’s fierce gaze bore into me, scorching through all of my protective layers.
He was wrong. It wasn’t my fondest memory at all. Every single moment with him was better than my first dance. Even the bad times, when we fought and drove each other to the brink of madness. Because we still did it together.
“But I wanted you to know that next to me, you’ll dance every night until your feet hurt. You will hear music and enjoy it.”
He raised his hands, unveiling a small hearing aid in his palm. It was a clear small tube attached to something that looked like a USB.
“Your doctor told me you won’t be able to hear the nuance of the music, but you can follow the soundwaves.”
And then I knew what it felt like to have your heart burst, because mine did, and warmth poured into my chest.
Tiernan reached for my ears and put the small device in each of them. He flicked the back of one of the devices. A static screech filled my ears, making my head hurt. I stumbled back, wincing.
He reached to grab my hands and steady me. I stared at him, shocked. Was I going to hear now?
“I love you.”
My heart skipped a beat.
I heard him.
His voice was rough. Husky. Beautiful.
“I wanted it to be the first thing you’ll ever hear,” he explained. “So I’ll say it again—I. Love. You.”
I wanted to fall down on my knees and scream in triumph. Listen to my own voice. Bask in my laughter.
But before I could do any of that, Tiernan pushed the doors open and in front of me stood a lush, huge ballroom.
A live orchestra sat on a stage, musicians poised and swathed in formalwear.
Violinists, cellists, clarinet and flute players, trombones and trumpets. Bass and snare drums.
“May I humbly ask for the pleasure of a dance with you, Lila?” He bowed his head, and I realized I heard him because he spoke, not because I could read his lips.
That voice. This man. God help me.
Tiernan offered me his open palm.
I took it.
We stepped inside.
The band began to play on cue.
The music filled my ears.
The harmony, the sound, the emotions it stirred in me…
I couldn’t breathe; I was so overwhelmed. It was pleasant and happy, but I got choked up on my own emotions.
I started shaking in his arms as he swept me elegantly across the dance floor in a waltz. Tears leaked from my eyes, and this time I let them fall. I didn’t feel weak. On the contrary, I’d never felt more powerful in my life.
“You waltz?” I heard my voice. It sounded slurred in comparison to my husband’s. But it was pretty. I liked it. It was…kind.
“For you, I do,” he confirmed. “We’re not talking about the dance classes I took last week, though.”
I listened to the edge of his voice.
To the playful lilt of his sarcasm.
To that low, soothing, manly baritone that I always fantasized about.
Whoa.
“What are they playing?” I asked.
I doubted whatever version of this song entered my ears was the complete product, but it was enough.
“‘The Blue Danube’ waltz by Johann Strauss.” He smiled down at me, happy because I was.
“We’re going to go through all of the classics, darlin’.
And then we are going to attend every ball in greater New York and flaunt your moves,” he continued, just as I stomped on his foot, my huge belly poking between us.
“Well, we have a few months to practice.”
I tried to laugh, but the thrill of it all finally took its toll on my body. I fell to my knees in the middle of the ballroom and started sobbing uncontrollably.
Music.
Sound.
Love.
This man had given me so many things. And we almost never happened. It took a terrorizing tragedy to put us in each other’s paths.
Tiernan sank down to the floor, wrapping his arms around me. His fingers disappeared in my hair. He kissed my tears while I hiccuped, clutching him desperately, never wanting to let go.
Was it terrible that I was glad I had been raped and brutalized? I marveled at the stunning realization that my rape—the lowest point of my life, of my existence—carved my path to this beautiful life I had today.
If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have ended up here. With this man. Who had given me all I’d ever wanted, and things I didn’t even know I could dream of having. I’d always dreamed about a dashing prince. Heavily lashed, with pouty lips and big, beautiful eyes.
As it turned out, I fell in love with the complete opposite of it. With a Nephilim, a fallen giant, hands scarred from murder.
No, he wasn’t just my lover.
He was my god.
It was only when the music died, when the final note was struck by the orchestra, that I took in the room I was standing in fully. Beforehand, I was too overwhelmed to examine it.
It was filled with roses.
In every color and shape.
Every corner. Every crook. The heavy scent of them in my nose, sweet and pleasant.
White. Yellow. Lavender. Peach. Green. Orange. Red.
He made me face my fear of roses.
In a safe space. Erasing my last memory of the flower and replacing it with something I never wanted to forget.
Tiernan cupped my cheeks, staring down at me. “Hey, Moon.”
“Hey, Sun.” I put my hands on his, keeping them on my face. I leaned into his palm.
“Thank you for this dance.”
I closed my eyes, breathing him in. “Thank you for this life.”