Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EMMA
Text conversation with Seamus
Is everything okay?
I haven’t heard from you all day.
Shadow’s worried. She was promised two homes, and she hasn’t even seen your apartment yet.
Seamus? Nicole said she sent you home for tripping Jeffrey. What’s going on?
My eyes are bleary from staring at my computer screen all day, examining the files from Ellie’s phone. I’m exhausted, working on a few hours of sleep, four cups of coffee, and sugar. Shadow, who’s curled up in my lap after a long morning of chasing nothing, seems exhausted too.
“There’s nothing here,” I mutter to my mother, who’s sitting next to us at the parlor table, sipping a drink and reading a bodice ripper. Anthony and Rosie were here for breakfast this morning, but they left hours ago, with Chuck departing minutes after they did. I told my mother she didn’t need to keep me company if there was something she’d prefer to do. She’d surprised me by saying she wanted me to nab that no-good scoundrel by the balls as much as anyone, and she’d prefer to be there to see it, thank you very much.
She sets down her book, which has a silver-haired gentleman with a bared chest on the cover and is titled Silver Balls , the words scrawled across where his assets would be.
“You’ll keep looking,” she says fiercely. “And if we can’t find the smoking gun, we’ll just have to go with Plan B and plant one in his belongings.”
“Really?” I ask, giving her a half smile as I pet the soft fur between Shadow’s ears.
My mother stiffens her spine. “I’ll always regret that I didn’t protect you kids from your father the way I should have. I certainly won’t allow anyone else to do you harm. Still…it would be preferable for him to be the architect of his own undoing. My understanding is that Damien would be searching his room today. Perhaps he’ll find something of interest.”
I doubt it. Ellie’s the one who has what we need—I’m convinced of it—but where was she hiding it?
I start playing another video, this one of Ellie applying lipstick. Glancing at the bar on the bottom of the screen, I grit my teeth. It’s fifteen minutes long.
“Take a break,” she says in her most commanding tone. “You’re going to give yourself unnecessary wrinkles if you keep squinting at the screen for hours without rest.”
“I need to check on Seamus.”
She slides her hand across the book’s titles, her fingers skating over the hero’s silver balls. “You know, when I told you to find a young man, I wasn’t referring to Rosie’s brother.”
I pause the video and look at her. “Mom, Seamus is working for you. It makes sense that I’d go see how he’s doing.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday. It’s very clear to me that he’s been doing something for you. Those nice children Jake and Lainey—”
She’s referring to the couple who live next door to Declan and Claire. They are decidedly not children, although my mother refers to anyone below the age of forty as a child.
“They helped me set up a superior security system at the house. I turn it on every night before bed. It sends me alerts whenever there’s activity near the house, and if I don’t respond, the alarm will go off. I saw him climb the wall the other night.”
“Oh,” I say softly, glancing off. “Don’t you think you should have told me that? What if I accidentally set it off in the middle of the night?”
“I was hoping you would,” she says with her typical candor. “It would be a sign there’s some life left in you.”
I don’t bother to comment. I suppose she’s right.
“Anyway, I happened to notice that your friend didn’t come back out for many hours.”
I meet her gaze and hold it. “We just talked.”
“Nothing is more fatal to a woman’s heart than just talking to the right man,” she says primly. “Or the wrong one. Which is he?”
“I like him,” I say, feeling heat gather behind my eyes. “It’s complicated, though. There are a lot of factors to consider.”
“I’ll say.” She gives me a thoughtful look. “I thought I was done with men after Mark died…”
“Uh, Mom, you’ve had at least five boyfriends since then.”
She laughs and makes a dismissive gesture. “Those weren’t boyfriends, Emma. They were lovers .”
I scrunch my face, and she sighs. “Oh, please. Don’t pretend a woman’s needs dry up when her ovaries do.”
“Look, I’m very happy for you and your needs, but I don’t necessarily want to hear about them in detail. I’m really glad if you’re interested in Chuck, though. He’s a nice guy, and he seems to be crazy about you.”
I’m shocked by the dreamy look in her eyes. “He’s a unicorn.”
“Are you on hallucinogenics?”
She swats my hand. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean. That man is one in a million. Kind, handsome, and all of his teeth are real. Plus, he can plan a party.”
“God, a person’s standards really go down when they get on in years.” But I’m grinning at her, feeling this win with her. My mother has had horrible luck with men, for the most part, and she deserves her unicorn.
I say as much, and she pats my hand.
“You do, too, my dear. If you think Seamus is for you, then I have no objection. Back in my day, they’d say he doesn’t have two nickels to rub together, but that’s not something you’ll ever have to worry about. I was a gold digger so you don’t have to be one.”
I laugh. “Thanks, Mom. You took one for the team.”
She smiles and pats my hand again. “My advice to you is to get back what that man stole from you and leave the bitterness behind. I carried mine for too long, Emma. Don’t you do the same.”
I don’t hesitate. I close the lid to my laptop and get up, taking Shadow with me.
“Oh good, I’ve motivated you to get off your posterior?”
“Indeed.”
“Would you mind terribly if I watch some of those videos?” she asks, gesturing toward the closed laptop. “Some of her cosmetics tips seemed promising.”
“Mom, you’ve really got it bad,” I say, shocked.
She purses her lips. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman wanting to look her best.”
“No, there’s not,” I say, pausing. Because, truthfully, I’d like to look my best for Seamus, too, and right now I’m wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved legal aid T-shirt I put on after getting home from his house.
But the need to go to him is greater than the need to not look like a slob. I consider bringing Shadow with me, but I don’t think she’d get along with the tyrant bunny, so I leave her with my mother, after she assures me she won’t try to feed her anything she shouldn’t eat—a list that includes gin after I caught her licking from my mother’s glass the other night.
Then I leave, my pulse pounding frantically, because I can already feel it. I’m going to have to put myself out there, and it won’t be comfortable.
The bottom door to Seamus’s building is propped open, so I head up to his apartment and knock. My arms are wrapped around my torso because even though spring is around the corner, it’s still out of sight, and I forgot a coat.
He opens the door on the first knock and instantly scowls at me and disappears inside, returning with a soft blanket that he wraps around my shoulders. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt and gray sweatpants. He looks like crap, with circles under his eyes and a glazed expression, and he also looks beautiful to me.
“Have you been drinking?” I ask, shaken but accepting the blanket. He smells like whiskey, and when I look over his shoulder, there’s a bottle sitting on the kitchen table, with one glass next to it. Something inside of my chest squeezes.
Was he drinking because of me?
“Yes,” he says. “Excessively.”
I want to touch him. To take him by the hand and lead him to a chair and force him to sit down. But I don’t know how to be with him anymore. Logic tells me I should still consider last night a mistake, but logic doesn’t have a space between us. Ever since that first night, there was a buzzing, snapping, almost painful connection between us. An understanding.
He gives me space, and I come inside and shut the door—and gasp. He’s set up a makeshift playpen for Carrot the rabbit. It’s made of tennis rackets and piles of books and collapsed cardboard boxes.
“Has Chuck seen this?”
He makes an amused grunt. “Chuck hasn’t been home. Your mother has got him so twisted into knots he visited a lawyer this morning. Haven’t seen him since. I’m happy for the guy.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“Do I have to arrange a parade to prove it?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“It might be a little preliminary,” I say dryly. “They’ve only gone on one date.”
“For Chuck, watching Mary Tyler Moore together is like going to third base.”
I shake my head, amused but far from a smile. Because my heart feels like it might burst if I don’t go to him, or he doesn’t come to me. But taking that first step feels impossible. It feels like I’d be stepping out into open air.
He looks away from me, focusing on the furry bunny in the makeshift enclosure. “They need more space,” he says. “He felt trapped in there.”
“You’re a rabbit expert now?”
“He and I have reached an understanding,” he says, lowering into a chair at the edge of the enclosure. Carrot hops over to him, and he reaches down and pets him between his ears. The rabbit lets him. The melted butter feeling in my chest spreads, making me feel like a sloppy mess. I want to go to Seamus. I want to sit on his lap or at his feet. I very much want to touch him, but I’m terrified.
I still don’t know what’s in his past, or his future, but right now the things I know seem more important than things I don’t…
“You tripped Jeffrey,” I say through a tight throat.
“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
He turns toward me, his eyes full of fire. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Emma. Don’t you do that.”
I need to do or say something, so I blurt, “I’m sorry I left this morning.”
His eyes harden, his brow flat and ungiving. “I’m not.”
He means it to hurt, and it does. “You’re being a dick.”
“I didn’t invite you here. You came all on your own.”
“You’d kill Jeffrey for me, but you want me to leave your apartment?” I put a hand on my hip, ignoring the frantic beating of my heart. The pain pricking across its surface.
His lips quirk upward. “I’m drunk and on pain killers. You can’t expect me to make sense.”
“Do you really want me to leave?”
“I’m not going to be your friend , Emma. I don’t play nice.”
“That’s good, because I don’t either. And I definitely have no interest in being your friend.”
“No?” he asks, his lips curling toward a smile, though I can’t tell what kind of smile yet. Seamus has a drawerful of them.
“No.”
He gets up and takes a step toward me, the motion sucking the air out of my lungs. Everything in me is on high alert. I’m afraid of him, but not because I think he’s going to harm me. Not physically, at least.
He reaches me, his height requiring me to look up to hold his molten gaze. I feel engulfed by him but not diminished. He smells like a bar, the way I did the night I first kissed him.
“I’m a fucking mess right now,” he says, peering down at me.
“I know.”
His mouth forms another of his one million grins, and he reaches for my chin, tipping it up to him.
“I wanted you to stay last night.”
My heart beats fast and hard, trying to tell me something, but the message isn’t coming through, and all I know to do is tell the truth.
“I did too,” I admit. “But I told myself you wouldn’t mind much. I know sex probably isn’t a big deal to you.”
“It was with you,” he says. “I haven’t touched another woman since I met you.”
Surprise chokes any words I might have had for him. Finally, I recover enough to say, “But you’re such a flirt, and Rosie said—”
“I haven’t lived as a saint. I didn’t even realize it was because of you until recently. I thought I was depressed again, but now…after last night…I realized I was holding out because you’re the one I wanted.”
“I haven’t been with anyone else either. I…I’ve been thinking about you for a while. That’s what made me leave last night. I think I’m pretty messed up when it comes to this stuff.”
His thumb brushes over my lip again, the way it did the other night. “That makes two of us. I don’t know what this means, or how it could work. God knows it would probably end in flames, but I don’t care anymore. I want you. I need you, and I can’t wait four years to have you again. I can’t think of anything but you, Emma. It’s impossibly fucking annoying. And yes, I wanted to kill that son-of-a-bitch for hurting you. I still do. And I’m worried that I’m done being useful to you, because Nicole knows better than to let me anywhere near him after what happened earlier.”
My lips part in shock. No man has ever spoken to me like this. No man has ever made me feel like this, like I might actually want to take off my stony skin and reveal my vulnerable insides.
His thumb is still on my lip, and I capture it in my mouth, sucking. His eyes widen, and one of his big hands wraps around my waist, making my body light up with remembrance of last night. Of every time our bodies have been close or touching. My mind has kept returning to them over the past couple of months, like a broken record, and it’s only now that I’m willing to admit to myself how much he’s made his mark on me. I pull back, and his fingers weave into my hair, lifting my face up to him again.
“I can’t think about anything but you either,” I admit. “Come lie down with me. You’re not yourself.”
His laughter is a harsh sound, and it occurs to me that he has different laughs, too. This one is no mark of good humor.
“This is me being myself, Em.”
“Getting drunk while you’re on pain medication and building a rabbit hutch out of trash?”
His hand squeezes my waist. “Don’t you put down Chuck’s carefully curated belongings.” But the humor leaves his voice, and he adds, “This is me, being self-destructive. Because that’s what I do. That’s what I’ve always done.”
“No, it’s what you did ,” I say firmly. “What you’re going to do right now is go to bed, drink lots of water, and sleep it off.” Then I get up on my toes and break my rule, our rule, and kiss him. A soft kiss, because he’s not in his right head, and part of me is afraid he’ll regret all of this when he wakes up sober. But he opens his mouth to me and pulls me closer, making a humming noise as if he’s so deeply satisfied to have his lips on me again he has to make his relief audible. I open to him too, feeling that same relief. The kiss deepens as he tugs me closer by my waist, his other hand weaving up into my hair and pulling it slightly as he uses it to press me closer into him. So close that he jars his rib again.
I pull back when he flinches. “Not right now,” I say. “I want you to sleep it off.”
He leans his chin on my head and sighs deeply. “Your hair always smells good. Did you know your hair always smells good?”
“You’re very drunk.”
“You’re very bossy.”
“You seem to like it.”
“Only from you,” he says, his lips forming one of his endearing smiles.
When I start leading him toward the bedroom, he comes with me—and he doesn’t fight me when I help him lower onto the mattress. The pained look on his face says his rib is still bothering him, so I help him settle back onto the propped pillows.
He looks at me as I rise. “I’m only going to stay in this bed if you promise you won’t leave.”
“I’m staying.” I lean down to kiss him again, because I need to. Because, if he changes his mind, I want one more. He kisses me back softly, then rests his cheek against mine.
I get him a large glass of water from the other room. I consider putting Carrot back into his cage, but when I call the rabbit’s name, he heads in the other direction. My rabbit charmer is in bed, so I settle for texting Chuck to explain the situation and suggest he stay clear of the apartment for a few more hours. Then I climb into bed beside Seamus.
His eyes are barely open when I get back, but I tell him to drink the water and he complies, his gaze amused. He settles back, pulling me close to his side, cradling me to the un-injured part of his chest. His hand slips beneath the back of my shirt, his fingers moving over me as if he needs to prove it to himself that I’m really here.
I feel emotionally congested, because I didn’t think that a relationship could be like this. That being vulnerable with someone could lead to anything other than regret.
At the same time, I’m aware that his secret sits between us.
I don’t know what he did, but I know it was bad enough that it sent him running when Nicole came at him with her PI superpowers and a metaphorical shovel.
I’ve thought about what it can be, and the alternatives are all bad. Dangerous. Yet I’ve never felt anything but safe with him.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Goddamn, it really does smell good.”
I kiss him again and again. Small, sweet kisses that he returns, his eyes barely open but a smile on his lips.
He needs to rest, so I snuggle in close to him. But I have to ask…
“What happened when you tripped Jeffrey?”
“He fired me,” he says, a rumble of laughter shaking his chest, followed by a wince.
“I wish I’d seen it.”
“You may have your wish. Ellie likes to record everything.”
“We haven’t found anything useful on her phone,” I say, snuggling closer, shifting so I can feel the rasp of his unshaved chin against my cheek. “I’ve been looking all day.”
“It may be buried beneath five thousand latte art videos, but you’ll find it. If not, we’ll look somewhere else. I’m not going to rest until we take him down.” He shifts closer with a contented sigh. “I can’t believe you’re here right now. Is it four years from yesterday?”
“We barely lasted four hours,” I say, feeling like that pool of melted butter. Not caring. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it.
“It felt like four years,” he says, turning slightly to press his lips to the side of my face.
“It did,” I agree, emotion clogging my throat. “I’m afraid you’ll feel differently when you wake up.”
“I won’t,” he says, shifting and then groaning from pain. I still him with my hand and reposition myself so I’m facing him. “I won’t,” he repeats. “Nicole thinks I’m obsessed with you because she was tracking my internet search history.”
This doesn’t surprise me. Nicole is a woman completely without scruples. It does, however, please me.
“And you were looking me up?”
“Incessantly. And I may have downloaded a couple of Rosie’s Facebook photos of you onto my desktop.”
“I looked you up too,” I admit. “And your uncle.”
His expression shutters. “Yeah, you’ve met Uncle Rory.”
I nod. “I’d like to know more.”
His fingers move across my back again, tracing patterns. “You will. With your witchy ways, I expect you get everything you want.”
We’re quiet for a few minutes, and I notice his eyes drooping and getting a far-off look. He’s fading out, and I should let him. He needs rest.
But I need the truth—a truth he might not tell me if he’s fully cognizant.
“What is it you told your brother and sister, Seamus? What made you so upset?”
He doesn’t pause. I feel guilty for half a moment, because he’s not all there. He’s in a place between sleep and wakefulness where the world is hazy. I watch his Adam’s apple as he swallows nothing. And then he says it…
“I had to kill a man to keep us safe.”