39. Saoirse
Saoirse
All Hills Look Green When Seen From Far Away
Finn didn’t come home last night.
I can’t believe what he did to those two poor boys. They were only having a laugh.
He could’ve killed the one he punched from behind. Didn’t even give him a chance to defend himself. Didn’t give them a chance to explain.
Maniac.
I poked around the apartment last night; it holds no mementos or clues. A dead end.
I inspected the door lock, because he can’t keep me locked up here forever.
When he didn’t come home last night, I made up my mind. The next time he offers to take me back to Sunnyside, I’m saying yes.
I’ll drive myself there.
I don’t want to be with this psychopath any longer. He’s untamable and untrainable. When he’s sweet and loving, it’s heavenly.
But I forgot what he is inside. The devil.
And when the devil side shows up, there’s not enough love in the world for me to forgive him.
The timer on the microwave tells me it’s six a.m.
I want to throw my book at the flatscreen and start smashing plates on the floor. Why bother? It’s not like there’s anyone around to clean it up except me.
And that’s another thing. Finn’s got me doing the housework for him. I’m not sure how that came about—he never forced me to—but I did it anyway.
My resentment seethes while watching the digits on the microwave timer glow in the dark.
The door clicks open. Mickey shouts down. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.” Instantly, I’m hit with doubt.
Finn was in an accident. That’s why he didn’t come back last night.
But no. Finn’s arms are wrapped around the necks of Mickey and another man. They drag him to the bed and throw him across it.
Finn’s head flops and bounces on the mattress. He groans and mutters. Like the situation, he’s not making any sense.
The space fills with the stench of hardcore drinking, unwashed sweat, and cigar smoke. I have to block my nostrils to stop the Irish funk from permeating the air I breathe.
Mickey looks as pissed as me. “Keep him on his side so he doesn’t choke on his vomit.”
“Would you hold it against me if I left him on his back?”
Mickey growls over his shoulder as they dump his gym bag of dirty clothes and leave. “Go ahead. I’m close to washing my hands of him.”
Me too.
Living with Finn is like riding a rollercoaster. Not one of those well-maintained name brand ones either. More like a rust-bucket rollercoaster in a spooky abandoned theme park.
The kind where you’re never sure when the wheels are going to fall off.
Hopping mad doesn’t come close to describing how I feel. How dare he?
My mind’s made up. My nose wrinkles with disgust as I open his gym bag.
Finn mumbles and shifts. The breath catches in my throat, but he goes back to sleeping.
I feel a hard circle attached to a fob. It’s the magnetic strip that deactivates the door lock. Hallelujah.
I’m totally out of here. I’ll think up an excuse to tell Declan as I make my way back home.
If I can’t find the car that matches this fob, I’ll hike.
It takes a moment to change back into the dry cleaned black velvet Chanel dress and Louboutins. I drape the shawl over my shoulders, but I can’t find my pearls.
Time ticks away as I search for the long strand with the gorgeous gold clasp. After a while, I find them in the kitchen drawer, under countless packets of takeout salt sachets and plastic cutlery.
I’m at the top of the stairs before I can overthink it.
But something stops me. I left Finn sleeping on his back.
Ooh, I am so close… but I can’t leave him like that. Creeping back downstairs, I crawl onto the bed and begin shoving pillows under him on one side.
Finn stirs—and wakes up. Rises to consciousness, more like.
Our eyes lock. That’s all it takes for me to know he still bears ill will toward me for talking to those other men.
His eyes are bloodshot. He smells like a post-game football locker room. His sweater’s ridden up to expose his taut abs.
Those stormy-gray eyes blink. He rolls off the bed and stumbles to the shower room.
He doesn’t even bid me good morning. I hear the shower go on.
I could leave, but then everything I want to say to him will curdle my insides.
The injustice at how he’s treating me rises up. Generations of my hardscrabble Irish forebears stir in my blood. I think this man has forgotten what a princess I can be when I want.
Without thinking it through, I bash into the shower room. Finn’s got a hand propped against the glass as the water cascades over his head. He’s cleaning his teeth, still swaying a bit from all the alcohol.
“You’ve got some nerve, you know that?!” I swipe the steam off the glass so he can see my face and bang the surface with my fist. “I’m allowed to talk to whomever I want!”
He spits and smacks down the faucet handle; steps out of the shower. All he does to acknowledge my protest is shake his head.
I guess he’s airdrying. He steps out of the room naked and moves to the walk-in closet.
I follow, not even a bit distracted by how good he looks.
“Are you listening? Do you even know how lucky you are that I’m staying with you? I’m not some skank-ass cage fight groupie, you know!”
He doesn’t even look at me, just carries on sifting through his clothes until he finds a tee-shirt and briefs.
I block his way when he tries stepping out.
I gather up my strength for an almighty scream.
“I said… DO YOU KNOW HOW LUCKY YOU ARE THAT I’M STAYING WITH YOU? I’m fucking Saoirse Byrne-Mag—”
He pivots and grabs my throat. The rest of what I was going to say ends abruptly.
“It’s not that name you’ll be saying under my roof. Got it?”
He lets go of me and shakes his head, like I disappointed him.
I’m not going to let it slide.
“How dare you lay your hands on me. I’ll say whatever name I want!”
Finally, Finn uses his words. “I didn’t lay hands on you. If I did, you’d know about it.”
The tears of anger and frustration burst out of me even as I try holding them back. “Nnh-hnn-hnn-hnn.” My body’s shaking with utter trauma. I curl up into a ball and hide my face while I weep.
He sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the bed. I can’t stop crying—I haven’t bawled this hard since my mam passed.
Finn strokes the hair off my face and hushes me. He fetches a packet of tissues out of the end table and pushes one into my hand.
“You shouldn’t try to control me, storí. Attacking me under my own roof. It’s not my fault I overreacted. That’s on you.”
Why am I not comforted by what he’s saying? But what he’s doing feels so tender. I could die happy held in his strong arms.
I feel safe… But maybe I’m not?
I’m exhausted. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night worrying about you…”
He hugs me which is nice and soothing. My hiccupping sobs stop and start while he explains. “What have you got to worry about, sweetheart? You’ll always be safe with me.”
He’s right. No one would dare confront me with Finn by my side. But there are many things no one would dare when they see I’m with him.
Like saying hi.
Giving me a nod and a wink.
Greeting me during the day. Stopping to say something about the weather…
“I—I don’t know…” I’m not sure if I want everyone tiptoeing around me.
Finn kisses the corner of my mouth. He’s controlled and clean. The only trace of drunkenness hides behind his glazed eyes.
Whatever happened sobered him up—fast.
“I know why Maguire locked you down, mo chroí.”
The state I’m in right now, I’ve lost track of what got Declan so pissed.
“How did you…?” How could he know how deeply I betrayed my husband?
He kisses me again. “Whisht. I heard you confess on your knees at the chapel. Just tell me why you went on the pill.” He pinches my chin playfully. “A good Catholic girl such as yourself.”
All I can do is shake my head. I’m so ashamed.
Finn is persistent. “Is it because you wanted to wait? For me to come back… and find you?”
No, I made the decision for myself. I was twenty-one and stuck in a loveless marriage. I didn’t want to bring kids into such a stagnant environment.
A new generation of girls to be auctioned off. More boys to become cannon fodder for a war they never started.
I want to tell him this. Lance the festering wound he gave me back then by breaking his promise and disappearing.
“You left me, Finn. I never wanted to love again.”
He’s kissing my bare shoulders, gently brushing his mouth up and down my neck. It’s…lovely.
My eyes stop stinging when I close them. My hysterical panting becomes relieved sighs.
His mouth moves down to where a cleavage would be if I had one.
If I leave him, he’ll be doing this to someone else. I can’t stand the idea of him being with another woman.
It’s a dream-like state I’m in when he removes my panties and goes down on me.
I’m close to pushing him away and clamping my legs shut, but it feels real good what he’s doing to me. I was too uptight to get turned on five minutes ago, but now…
He laps my clit and the intoxicating sensation comes back hard. Why cry when I can come instead? That’s what my body is telling me.
The reasons to leave that seemed so essential moments ago, fade away. The feeling when his tongue licks me at that perfect spot is everything I think I need.
My groans of protest and sorrow turn into soft moans of ecstasy.
I hold his head to guide him. My eyes flutter closed and then widen. I concentrate on blocking out the bad so I can get that good stuff.
Right now, it feels like a fair exchange.
I trust him to see this through to the climax. So, I guess I should trust him full stop.
So close… so good… Don’t stop.
I feel his hand unclasp the pearl necklace around my throat. He threads it between my tight slit and pulls slowly.
One by one, the pearls bump over my most sensitive part, and each bump brings me closer.
Finn’s mouth clamps over my mound. He pushes three fingers inside my slippery passage as I come. Bucking and jolting, I forget everything that happened before this.
But the doubt comes crawling back the second my orgasm subsides.