I pull the armchair over. “I’ve never done this before.”
“I’ll teach you.” He opens the box, takes out the instructions booklet, then starts separating the pieces. There’s alsoglue and paint. I try to imagine a young Rory unable to keep still, doing these with his mom.
“I had…fuck, a shit ton of these as a kid. I loved sharing that with her. Those were my favorite times. This once, my dad came home. He was pissed because he’d gotten in trouble with Sloan—that’s Tiernan’s dad; he’s dead now. But he grabbed one, threw it against the wall, and busted it. My mom…she’d been in her own world all day, but that snapped her out of it. That moment was one of the few times she showed up for me.”
“Jesus, Ror. I’m so sorry.” Parents can really fuck you up. I think we’ve all been traumatized by our parents in some way.
“It’s okay. It made me think she loved me.”
Jesus, this man. It’s like this one simple gift has cracked him open, let him show me more pieces of himself, but somehow, it’s also stitching him back together.
“Me, Ash, Tiernan, and Cillian slashed his tires after that.” He pumps his brows, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Aislin too?”
“Fuck yes. You don’t mess with someone she loves.” He flattens the instructions. “That means you now as well…since you love me and all.”
I grin at him. “Since I love you, huh?”
“Yep. And because you’re mine.”
“I can’t wait for you to tell me you love me.” He does. I know he does, and I’m okay with waiting until he’s ready to say it.
“Sorry I’m so fucked up.”
“I don’t want you to be any way other than how you are. I like you.”
“Love me,” he corrects, and I think maybe Rory needs to hear it again, even if he doesn’t realize it.
“I love you.”
He beams in his wild, almost manic way, then scoots his chair closer to mine. He begins looking for a piece he needs. “Tell me something good about Kat. I don’t want to hate my mother-in-law.”
“Oh, she’s your mother-in-law, but you’re not sure you love me?” I tease.
“I don’t make the rules. It’s an interesting place inside my head.”
Yes, it is, and I want to learn it all, want to study it, get my PhD in everything Rory Fitzpatrick. Reaching out, I brush my black-painted nails against his temple. “I like it in there.”
“Good.” When I lower my hand, he playfully tries to bite my finger, and I laugh. “Now tell me.”
Something good about my mom…okay… “She never let anyone touch me. There were times people wanted to, offered her money and shit, but she never took it, and those men never came around again.”
“Jesus.”
“She’s not all bad. Sometimes she’s like a kid in an adult’s body. She’s a lot, she’s irresponsible, selfish, makes a lot of mistakes, but there have been times when I couldn’t protect myself, and she always protected me. She protected some of the other women too—taking a beating in their place, interfering if one of the rougher clients wanted one of the softer women.” I shrug. “She’s my mom.”
Rory gives me a slow nod of understanding. “She makes good breakfast,” he says, and God, it makes me love him even more.
“When I was young, she used to let me have ice cream for breakfast…and she bought me this little keyboard so I could play, even though we didn’t have the money for it.”
“This one time, me, Cillian, and Tiernan almost got arrested for setting this house on fire. We were, like, eleven. Itwas before Moira died—that’s Cil’s mom—so anyway…”
He tells me stories, one after the other. I share some of my own, nothing like his with his family, but I do have more bits and pieces of myself I can share. I want Rory to know as much about me as I plan to learn about him.
We work on the model and just…talk, in this way I’ve never done with anyone. As the hours pass, I get sleepier and sleepier, but Rory doesn’t seem to be getting tired at all. Eventually, I curl up on the armchair, not working on the plane anymore, but watching him.
It’s not until my eyes flutter open that I realize I fell asleep. The room is bright, the partly cloudy sky showing through the open curtains, letting me know it’s morning…and Rory’s just sitting there, in the uncomfortable desk chair, completed plane in hand, watching me. Everything about him is intense, a walking red flag that most people would run away from but that I would do anything to hold on to.
