‘Spit it out, Fin. What can be worse than hearing—’
‘That I’ve still got a husband? That I’m not divorced?’ His countenance clouds immediately. ‘I’m sorry,’ I add quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.’
‘If you can handle still being married to the prick, I’m sure I can. For now,’ he adds weightily. ‘Same goes for what you have to tell me now. I’m guessing this is about your marriage?’ I nod. ‘It won’t be forever. And I want you, Fin. I think I’ve made that perfectly clear. Everything else is secondary.’
‘Okay,’ I say quietly. ‘Just remember, this isn’t about you.’
‘Me?’ He looks faintly confused. ‘What could I have to do with your marriage?’
‘This isnotabout you. This is more a reflection of me. The me of then.’ His mouth is suddenly a thin line as I inhale a deep breath and begin. ‘You know about my mother, right?’ He nods, a sort of taciturn motion, his fingers tightening on my waist as though in reassurance. Maybe he thinks speaking of her in these terms is uncomfortable.But a spade is a spade.‘Look, I’m grown up. The things narrow-minded people may think or say—’
‘Still hurt.’ His thumbs caress now, his earnest expression bringing a lump to my throat. ‘I know.’
‘Yeah, you’re right.’ I look away because I can’t be this close and remain detached. I don’t want to cry; for either of our memories. ‘Back then, it was pretty shitty.’ I bite the insides of my bottom lip in an effort to stop it from quivering. ‘I think that’s probably why I lost my virginity late.’ His brow quirks in question. ‘Real late,’ I answer. ‘Like twenty-one. I’m not even sure what I was trying to prove.’ My gaze slides back to his all watery. ‘Because they said shit about me anyway.’
‘Kids can be cruel.’
‘Even to themselves,’ I reply on a deep exhale. ‘You had a hand in losing my virginity. Well, more than a hand, because technically, you can’t lose your virginity by the use of only hands.’
‘What?’ His question comes out quivering, like he’d like to laugh but isn’t sure it’s appropriate. ‘Surely, you lost your virginity to your husband, because you said—’
I shake my head, repeating. ‘You and I.’
‘You and Iwhat?’
You know that saying; the one about understanding and the light dawning in a person’s eyes? Yeah, that’s not happening here.
‘You and I had sex,’ I say slowly, the rest coming much faster than I’d like. ‘Before I married. After college, I came back to the village because my mom was selling the house and I needed to pack up my things. We met at the County one afternoon. You know, the pub?’ I pause, finding myself nodding encouragingly, and though Rory inclines his head, barely, I’m pretty sure he has no idea what I’m talking about.
‘There were some bitches from school at the pub that afternoon.’
‘School?’ He looks kind of horrified.
‘No, I wasn’t at school. It was over. I’d left and hadn’t seen them in years. Unfortunately, they seemed to have decided they hadn’t had enough of being mean to me. And you stopped them—kissed me in front of them—hell, my toes curled and everything.’
He smiles, though I think bemused rather than with any sort of recollection, the warmth in his smile more related to my position on his lap, or perhaps my exuberance.
‘You had a tongue piercing.’ I lick my lips, an automatic reaction, not sure why the memory still causes such a subtle thrill. ‘It was my first time, not being kissed. It was the first time I’d had sex—but not in the pub.’
He laughs suddenly, his gaze sparkling with mirth. ‘I should think not—not for your first time.’
My cheeks heat, though it feels good to hear him laugh. Almost as good as it feels to have his hand on my waist.Stroking, as though his fingers ache with need as much as mine.‘No,’ I agree, smiling. ‘Not in the pub. It happened later that evening. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t your first time.’ If my laughter sounds forced, it’s because it kind of is. ‘I’m sorry, Rory. When you told me about your dad, of how you used to spend holidays at the cottage, I could’ve—should’ve—said then. God, my life is a walking clusterfuck!’
‘Fucking hell!’And there it is; it might not be early in the day, but the light, it’s a dawning. ‘You had blue hair!’ he exclaims, his eyes wide and his smile... bright and unexpected.
‘You remember?’
‘I’m not likely to forget. Any of it.’ His fingers tighten, his gaze flicking over me like he’s recognising me all over again. I find myself smiling along with him, actively fighting against its fall, knowing what else I have to say. The idiocy I have to admit.
‘But then, the next day—’
‘Aye. You were supposed to come back.’
‘I did,’ I reply softly.
‘But I don’t...’ His brow furrows; whether he’s trying to recall, or he’s just remembered his shady morning activities, who knows.
‘We made plans, but when I got to the cottage the following morning, it looked like you’d changed yours.’
