I don’t answer.
“Whatever’s going on, fix it. I’m not talking money right now. I’m talking brother to brother. Not for the business. For you.” He pauses at the door. “She’s good for you, Cillian. Don’t let the family poison that.”
I sit for a long time, considering Ronan’s words. Fix it. If only I knew how.
My mother calls at noon.
“There’s a women’s luncheon tomorrow to benefit The Children’s Hospital. I’d like Nora to come.”
I set down my pen. “Why?”
“Because she’s your wife. It would be good for her to be seen doing charitable work. To be visible in the right circles.”
“The last time you were in the same room with her, you said?—”
“I know what I said. I’m trying to do better.” A pause. Calibrated. “You asked me to try, Cillian.”
I did. I don’t entirely trust it, but I said I’d give her the chance.
“Be kind to her, Ma. I mean it.”
“Of course, darling.”
I tell Nora that evening. She’s in the kitchen, her hands busy, her back to me. She’s been cooking more this week—simple but tasty meals that I love.
“Ma called to invite you to a women’s luncheon tomorrow.”
Her hands go still on the cutting board.
“Do I have to go?”
“No. But it might be worth going. Being introduced to a few other women in our circle.”
She turns. The wariness in her face is evident. She’s calculating risk, reading subtext, doing the math on whether this is a trap.
“Will you be there?”
“It’s awomen’sluncheon. But I’ll drop you off and pick you up.”
She considers my words. “Okay. I’ll go.”
“Nora, you don’t have?—”
“I’m your wife. I should do these things.” She turns back to the cuttingboard.
Should. Notwant to,butshould—as if this life is a duty. We’ll work on that.
I cross the kitchen and put my arms around her from behind, pressing my lips to the top of her head.
“You don’t have to earn your place here.”
“I know,” she says.
She doesn’t know. But she’s trying to believe it.
In the morning, before she leaves for the luncheon, I pull her back to bed.
She laughs—surprised, but pleased—and lets me draw her down against the pillows. I take my time with her, slow and deliberate, watching her face the whole time. Her eyes stay open. She’s here with me, not somewhere in her head calculating what she owes or what this costs.
