Page 60 of While You Sleep

He had this befuddled look on his face. Dear god, I loved it. Was it mean that I enjoyed confusing him so much? Probably. But I enjoyed the hell out of it. “When was the last time you smiled?”

“Ten seconds ago.”

I shoved his chest with a laugh. “Smart-ass. Before that?”

“Haven’t had a lot to smile about, Soph. I don’t feel things the way other people do. I never really have.” He frowned. “Or at least I didn’t think so.”

“What changed?” I asked studying his handsome face.

He tucked my hair behind my ear. “I married this nerdy, cute, sexy-as-fuck little virgin, who says a whole lot of weird shit no one else has ever said to me, who talks nonstop through dinner so nearly every night she ends up eating it cold, who looks at me like she wants to lick me from head to toe while I dress after a shower, and fucks like she can’t ever get my cock deep enough, then sleeps pressed into me all night as if I’m her favorite childhood stuffed bear… That’s what changed. The urge to smile, it’s come over me more since you’ve been here than it has my entire life.”

Now it was my turn to blink up at him, stunned into silence.

He gripped my chin in a possessive hold, stopping whatever I was about to blurt, and kissed me. “Be back around eight,” he said against my lips, then turned and walked out.

I stared after him, trying to catch my breath.

* * *

Danny walked in carrying the grocery bags. Conor was with Cillian a lot lately, and Danny seemed to be the poor bastard stuck with me more often than not.

“That’s the last of it,” he said and dumped the bags on the counter.

“Thanks.” I still felt weird telling a guy like Danny what to do, forcing him to drive me about and trail me around the store. Thankfully, he didn’t seem threatened or offended by it. My father would have lost his shit if Mom had told him what to do. Celeste never did. I didn’t know if that was because she only sought out Dad when she wanted something, usually his credit card, or she’d learned the hard way like the rest of us.

He gave me a chin lift and left.

While I put everything away, all I could think about was what Cillian said to me earlier, that I’d somehow changed him, or brought something to life inside him that had been buried for a long time. The whole situation, this marriage, what he was, was messed up, but I couldn’t help the way I felt about him. I was falling for the O’Rourke monster, all of him, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The realization hit that I didn’t want to stop it.

I don’t know what that said about me, but I wanted to keep on casting light on the shadows inside him. I wanted to keep reviving the parts of him that had been gasping for breath for so long.

I wanted to make him smile.

Cooking for others was one of my love languages. Cillian seemed to order in a lot. He’d never asked me to cook, but I wanted to. It was a small thing, but I wanted to do something nice for him, to show him that I appreciated what he’d done for me.

How good he’d been to me.

I searched the cupboards for the biggest pot I could find.

Cillian had spent his childhood in Northern Ireland, in Belfast. I was born and raised here, so I had no idea what he considered a taste of home. My dad liked stew, one his mother had made for him when he was a boy. My mom had made it for us over the years, and I’d helped her. It was delicious, so that was on the menu. I’d had to google what to have with it. Mom had always made mashed potatoes, but I was going with a side of colcannon, mashed potatoes with cabbage mixed through it, and Irish brown bread.

I started with the bread, making the dough and leaving it to rise, then cut up the lamb. The stew would need a few hours to cook slowly. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen.

The table was set and everything was ready by eight o’clock.

But Cillian didn’t show.

He hadn’t texted to let me know he’d be late, and he hadn’t replied to my messages, which after last night and him knowing how worried it made me, made me extremely nervous. Danny said he was just held up and he’d be home when he was done, but that didn’t stop me from worrying. I looked at my table, the candles were almost burned all the way down now. So stupid. Cillian wasn’t romantic. He struggled with emotion, for fuck’s sake. What was I trying to do here? I blew out the candles and carried my glass of wine to the couch.

I watched TV, waiting. When I looked at the time again, it was eleven. I should just go up to bed. Instead, I closed my eyes, just to rest them for a few minutes.

I woke with a start to the sound of low voices. Cillian was talking to Danny, telling him he could head home. Sitting up, I immediately scanned his body for injuries. He spotted me then, sitting in the dark living room.

He looked surprised, then frowned. “I thought you’d already be in bed.”

“I was worried. Did none of what I said last night register with you, like at all?”

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