"This was a good idea," she admits, leaning back against the tub.
I sit on the closed toilet lid, biting back a groan so she doesn’t worry about me. There’s something domestic about this moment. It should feel strange and uncomfortable, but it doesn't. I've never done this before—just sat with someone, enjoyed their presence without needing anything else. It feels strangely good. It makes me wonder how I went so long without it, and how I’d ever manage again, if I were to lose her.
Yesterday, I was still insisting that we should get an annulment when this is all over. And deep down, I still think that she might regret staying. That I might not be able to make her happy. But after last night, I no longer know how I could bring myself to let her go.
Maeve’s eyes are closed as she lies in the hot, citrus-scented water, and I get up after a moment. “I’m going to see about making us breakfast,” I tell her, and she nods without opening her eyes.
“I’m starving.” She cracks one eye open. “Maybe we can work up an appetite for dinner later, if you’re feeling better.”
My entire body feels as if it contracts at the hunger in her voice. I’ve had plenty of women over the years want me, plenty who’ve come on to me in bars with a clear lust in their eyes. I’m not blind to how I look or the appeal of someone as dangerous as me. But nothing has ever come close to hearing the desire in my innocent wife’s voice as she lies naked in the bath, wanting me again.
I don’t care if it kills me, I’ll give her whatever she wants later tonight.
I’m halfway through making bacon, eggs, and toast in the kitchen when the door opens, and Flynn walks in. “Hope you’re decent!” he calls out, before seeing me in the kitchen in just my sweatpants. “Christ, Sean, put on a bloody shirt.”
“I can’t lift my arms over my head,” I deadpan, motioning to the bandages around my ribs and my side. “So no, I won’t be putting on a shirt.”
“But you can fuck your wife senseless, yeah? Or did you back out of it again like a fucking idiot?” Flynn sets down three coffees, and I reach for one of them, giving him a glare.
“None of your fucking business.”
“So youdiddo it. Excellent.” There’s clear glee in his voice. “So glad to hear you lost your virginity last night.”
“Now you sound like an idiot.” I roll my eyes. “You know good and well?—”
“Sure, but you never gave a shit about any of them before, did you?” Flynn grins. “So it was the first time.”
“As if you’ve ever given a shite about a woman you’ve taken to bed in your life.” I glance at the closed bedroom door. “Now get the hell out of here and do a security patrol, or something. I want a day alone with my wife, and I don’t want to seeyou—” I push his coffee cup back toward him, “until tomorrow.”
“Fine, fine.” Flynn grabs his cup and turns back toward the door. “See you in the morning, Flannery.”
The door shuts behind him, and for a moment, there’s only the sound of grease popping in the skillet and the occasional gust of wintry wind against a windowpane. Then the bedroom door clicks open, and Maeve leans her head out.
“Is Flynn still here?”
I shake my head, plating the food for breakfast. “He left, but he did bring coffee. Come on, eat.”
“Oh, good. Then I don’t have to put more clothes on.” She walks out in just one of my T-shirts again—hopefully with panties under it, for the sake of me not bending her over the breakfast table mid-meal—and I can’t help but stare. Her hair is tossed up onto her head in a messy bun, and her pale cheeks flush prettily when she catches me looking at her.
She’s an entirely different woman from the pale wraith I met that cold evening when I showed up on her doorstep with the Council. There’s life in her that wasn’t there before, and I can’t imagine ever seeing it fade again. God help me, I don’t want to be the reason for it ever fading, and I’m so fucking terrified, every time I remember that she’s mine now—that Iwanther to be mine—that I’m going to fuck this all up.
We eat in silence for several minutes, other than Maeve pausing to tell me how good the food is. Then, after another pause, she looks up at me, her expression cautious.
"Can I ask you something?" I can hear the slight hesitation in her voice, and I look up, surprised.
“Of course,” I tell her, although I feel a twist in my stomach as I wonder what, exactly, she might want to know. Something about my past? About other women I’ve been with? I wouldn’t hide anything from her, necessarily, but there’s plenty that I’d rather not talk about.
"Last night, you said you've been alone your entire life. But you had your mother, didn't you? Before she died?" Maeve looks up at me with those luminous blue eyes, and the question feels like a punch to the chest.
But I can’t deny her the truth about this. There are other truths I owe her too, like the reason why Brennan is after me in the first place, and her.
"I did," I say quietly. "She was... she was the only good thing in my life. The only person who ever loved me unconditionally."
Maeve sets her fork down, her face suddenly soft. "What was she like?"
I close my eyes briefly, calling up memories I usually keep locked away. "She was strong. The strongest woman I ever knew. She worked two jobs to keep us fed and housed, never complained, never asked anyone for help. She had this way of making everything seem okay, even when it wasn't. Even when we were living in a shitty flat in one of the worst parts of Boston, and she was working herself to death just to keep us afloat."
“Boston?” Maeve blinks. “I thought you were from here?”
