I pushed her away when I learned about Ruairi. Closed in on myself. Dealt with my grief in the only way I know how,by drinking myself into a stupor and allowing my brain to subconsciously resolve the practical side of the situation.
She deserved better. All the romantic declarations in the world would not have cushioned her from my withdrawal. Yet she showed up every day with food and drink, she helped Eoghan with the funeral and wake arrangements, and then, last night, when I was unraveling, she held me in her arms and waited for me to come out the other side. No questions. No judgement. No expectations of reward.
That must mean something.
What exactly, I have no idea. I’m in no position to hope that she loves me. We hardly know each other. I might simply be an infatuation, and if that’s all it is, then I’ll handle it with dignity when she tells me that it’s over.
But if it’s more than that… My pulse races at the thought that Amelia might someday become the part of my life that’s been missing since Niamh died.
I don’t want to wake her up, but I can’t leave her here. She worked her ass off yesterday and spent the rest of the night comforting her boss; she deserves a break, even if only for a few hours.
Carefully, silently, I scoop her into my arms and carry her upstairs to the guest room. I don’t undress her. I’ve seen her naked, but this would be a violation of her vulnerability, and even mafia bosses have morals. I cover her with the comforter and kiss her forehead. She snuggles under the covers, and for a moment, I hope that she’ll open her eyes and ask me to stay.
But she’s still sound asleep.
I’ve spent so little time in my room since the news of Ruairi’s death that it feels off kilter when I open the door. The bed is made. The curtains are closed. Everything is in its place, but it all feels so pointless. I close the door behind me and take a few moments to ground myself back in the real world.
It smells like Amelia. Or perhaps it’s me that smells like her. Either way, it gives me the strength to shower, dress in clean clothes, and make my way back downstairs to clear up the mess from the wake while she sleeps.
Orla is sitting in the kitchen, lights off, a mug of tea on the table in front of her. Untouched.
“Orla?” I startle when I switch on the lights and see the party detritus surrounding her. “Have you been here all night?”
“No. I couldn’t sleep.” She raises heavy-lidded eyes. “I didn’t have the energy to clear up.”
I cross the room and switch the kettle on to boil, dragging my mug across the counter and adding a teabag. “You should get some rest.”
I’ve hardly seen my mother-in-law while I’ve been processing the loss of my eldest son. I’ve been utterly selfish. She’s grieving for her grandson, and I shut myself away when she needed me most.
“Rest?” She sighs heavily. “What’s the point?”
I don’t have an answer for that. I’m not going to tell her that it’s what Ruairi would’ve wanted. I’ve no time for people who claim to know what those who’ve passed would’ve wanted as if they’re still communicating with them every day.
“Please?” I say instead. “I’ll clear up.”
“Where is Amelia?”
I keep my back to her while I fill the mug with boiling water. “She must still be sleeping.”
“In the living room?”
I freeze. Did she see us? What does she know?
I take the milk from the refrigerator, buying myself some time. “She heard me last night. Sobbing. She stayed with me because she didn’t want to leave me alone.”
While the tea cools, I grab a roll of black sacks from the cupboard underneath the sink and start clearing away the remains of the wake.
“She has a kind heart, Declan. Don’t take advantage of it.”
She knows more than she is letting on, but she has nothing to say about it. Which is so unlike Orla, that I can’t decide if it’s because she is mourning Ruairi or because she approves of our connection.
Perhaps that is wishful thinking on my part though.
“I would never,” I begin.
She stands up, holding onto the edge of the table. “I know you wouldn’t, but she’s young. She needs time to figure things out, so be patient.”
Before I can tell her how I feel, she shuffles away, shoulders so bowed that I don’t have the heart to burden her with this as well as everything else that’s going on.
