Page 102 of Verses Of Us

“I was eighteen and naïve. I meant it in a stupid, superficial way.” She looked away, crossing her arms. “What I didn’t count on was how hard I’d fall in love with you. From that very instant. Before the kiss. Before everything else.

“Every single second I spent with you was a constant battle in my heart and mind because no matter what, no matter how hard I loved you, you always loved the life more.”

She walked to the window. The scenery outside seemed drained of colour. Even the sun didn’t seem as bright.

She’d finally said what she’d always needed to, had poured her heart out, and yet, she didn’t feel any better or any lighter. All she felt was a cloak of darkness and dishonesty dropping over her.

After an endless silence, Ciarán spoke. “Lex, you’re the one who markedmylife, not the other way around.”

He stepped closer, running his hand down her back, his fingers raking through her hair. His touch, so delicate, so hesitant, caused her skin to tingle.

“You want to know why I’m here now?” he asked. “It’s because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t let you go, not this time.” When he stooped lower, right by her side, his face level with hers, her breath lodged in her lungs. “It’s up to you and will always be up to you. If you want me to leave, then I’ll walk out that door right now.” They both looked toward the door, which now seemed gigantic and ominous. “But to be clear, I want us to be together. Indefinitely.”

A small chuckle fell through her tears. She licked her lips and saw nothing but honesty and love in his eyes. “You’re a fool, then.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

The hesitation in Ciarán’s stare told her he wasn’t sure if he should get closer. But she let him. And when he was close enough that she heard his shaky breathing, she still didn’t stop him. With her arms frozen at her sides, her body quivered with fear and anticipation—a combination she’d only ever felt when near him. When his arms weaved around her, drawing her into his embrace, she let it happen. And when his heavy sigh, thick with relief, caressed her cheek, she forgot all the reasons she’d fought against this happening.

The happiness she’d always longed for was there, and she let it in.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting for this forever.” The words came out in a delicate whisper as her hands slipped around his back.

“I’m so sorry,” he replied, kissing the top of her head, brushing his lips against her hair. “For everything. I know I’m late, but I’m here now.”

“Never leave. I can’t…” The tears swallowed her words.

He held her tight. “I’m not going anywhere. Never again.”

VERSES OF ME

Ciarán

“He’sgoingtofalloff.” Worried, Ciarán stroked his cheeks.

“He won’t. Joan’s got him.”

“But he’s such a tiny guy. That horse is huge.”

“It’s a pony,” Alexis said, rubbing his back. “Colin will be fine.”

“I don’t know…” Ciarán gripped the wood fence, his knuckles white with tension. “Maybe he’s too young to learn to ride.”

Beside him, Alexis laughed and put a hand over his. “Would it be better if he learnt to ride at my age?”

She weaved an arm around him and snuggled in, tucking her head beneath his chin. Ciarán inhaled her scent, lilac and apple.

“You know he’s better off learning now, so he won’t be afraid of horses when he’s older.”

“Suppose you’re right.” He chuckled and kissed her. “Attaboy, Colin.”

The child’s eyes, a perfect mix of Ciarán’s blue with hints of his mother’s green, had dark hair, not as deep brown as Alexis’, but like the colour of nightfall when it covered the fields surrounding their home.

Like most fathers, Ciarán held such high pride for his son, but as Alexis often argued, compared to other children, their child was, in fact, stunning. She insisted they put Colin into modelling, but Ciarán preferred keeping him out of such things. He knew how hard it was to live in the spotlight.

Colin looked minuscule balanced on the grey pony and Ciarán tried to let Alexis’ calm wash over him. Joan, their own personal horse whisperer, wouldn’t let any harm come to him, anyway. The housekeeper was a saint, helping them with the land and the house, and didn’t mind teaching their son to ride one bit.

Joan had been with them for a few years. She was like a mother to Ciarán and a grandmother to Colin. Strict and somewhat rough around the edges, she softened every time the little two-year-old came around, jumping into her arms as if he hadn’t seen her in ages.

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