She chuckles and shakes her head. “Welcome to the American mindset. We’re all rather crazy. Anyways, the Painted Ladies in Cobh look really pretty, I can’t wait to see them…”
We chat on and off as I drive. She falls asleep for about an hour, and I keep catching myself looking over at her peaceful face as she rests.
Fecking hell, I’m a goner.
I’m glad I brought her here. Obviously for a lot of reasons, but in this moment, I’m thankful for the fact that she has this calm. If she was back in New York, that’d be unlikely, with her grandfather causing a lot of trouble there. Here in Ireland, she’s protected from all of that shite. In fact, she doesn’t even know there’s something going on. I’ve made sure of it.
Amy rubs her eyes when she wakes up, sitting up with a stretch. The scenery has changed a good bit while she was sleeping. “So pretty…” she mumbles, making me smile.
“Welcome to my home, which is now yours.”
She exhales shakily. “Yeah.”
I know she’s still adjusting to the concept of living here the rest of her life. “Your citizenship is already almost sorted.”
She turns to me slowly, her eyes narrow. “And how did you managethatexactly?”
I fight to keep the smirk off of my face as I shrug. “It’s a need to know basis. I have my connections.”
She scoffs. “Illegalconnections.”
“I’m sorry, did you think you were marrying a fecking priest?”
She bursts out into laughter, which makes a smile twitch onto my face, unable to help myself. “No. You’ve broken alotof priestly vows.”
I scoff in amusement. “I would’ve broken those vows as soon as I made them, no doubt. Father O’Donnell would be furious.”
“I can’t imagine you as a priest.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “I guess that’s the point of your joke, though.”
I wink at her before looking back to the road. “Yes, it is, love.”
She’s quiet for a few moments, and I can tell her mind has taken her down another line of thinking. “Do you ever…wish you’d chosen a different life path? Made other choices? Didn’t get into the mafia business?” There’s no judgement in her tone, just curiosity.
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel as I consider the answer to her question. “Sometimes,” I say softly. “But it’s also what I was raised with. It’s all I’ve ever known, it’s how I know how to operate in the world.”
“Yes, but we can always learn something new if we want to change life courses. We don’t have to be stuck in roles we don’t want.” Her voice is soft, almost hesitant.
I flash her a grin. “Are you regretting marrying me already, leannán?”
I keep my tone light and humorous, but I can’t deny the anxiety gripping my chest as I wait for her answer. I’m not usedto this vulnerability; the cold, sinking fear of rejection, thisneedfor her not to leave me. By modern day standards, our marriage was a quick one in and under a lot of stress. What if Amy feels like she didn’t properly think things through? What if she feels trapped with me now? I’ve never let a person in like this, never worried what anyone thought of me, never considered myself with the thought of ‘measuring up’.
Not since my father.
Not since I was a young boy, desperate for his father’s approval. I haven’t tried to mask anything with humor since then, either.
But instead of the cutting reply that my father would’ve given me, or even the hesitation I expected from her, Amy smacks my arm. “Of course I don’t. I’m not mad at you for being…you. I mean, IguessI wouldn’t have chosen a criminal for a husband, but…things don’t always go according to plan, you know? And Ididchooseyou.That’s what’s important.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “All right, leannán.”
She pokes my arm, softer this time. “I just want you to be happy and not feel like youhaveto stay in this…line of ‘work’ if you don’t want to. That’s all.”
I have to consciously remind myself to focus on the road. Her words are sweet, so softly spoken, sincerity dripping from her words like honey. I just want to stare at her. I’m not used to people asking questions like that without their own selfish motive. I suppose, in that way, Amy and I are similar. People are self-absorbed creatures with manipulative tendencies. But Amy? Everything about her seems to be born of care and empathy.
Unrestricted love blooms in my heart, flaring to life like a wildfire, making the rest of the drive go like a dream. The conversation turns to more mundane things. Favorite desserts, best childhood memories, topics that never occurred to me totalk about with most people. It’s strangely intimate after a life of keeping things close to my chest.
Amy gasps once we get close enough to the coast to see the water. I know I made the right decision on the honeymoon location now.
The cottage technically had been my father’s, not that he ever used it, and sits on the coastline a few kilometers from Cobh. My mother brought me here, just the two of us, when we needed a break from him.
