Page 27 of Stolen Mafia Vows
I feel his absence like the sharp pang of grief. Which is crazy when I only met him a couple of weeks ago. But it’s as if he has carved out a piece of my heart and replaced it with a piece of his own; I swear that if I stand still and hold my breath, I can hear two heartbeats instead of one.
The cottage is perfect for Sienna. It overlooks the beach, the sound of the waves seeping through the walls and the open windows along with the tang of salt. I don’t know when they found it, but one room has already been converted into a studio for Sienna, so that she can paint while she’s waiting for the baby to come.
“You should try painting, Em.” She hands me a paintbrush, squeezes some acrylic paints onto a palette, and points me at a canvas.
“I’m not an artist.”
“You don’t need to be. Paint whatever you like, whatever you feel inside.” She dips her fingers into a lime green blob and drags them across another canvas in an easy arc. “That’s the beauty of art. It can be messy.” She grins and waggles her fingers at me. “The messier the better.”
Knowing that she isn’t going to relent until I add some color to my canvas, I dip the brush into chili red acrylic and flick it at the blank canvas the way we used to do in school when we were kids. The droplets resemble blood, and I have the urge to smear them all around and smush my hands in the mess.
“Don’t fight it, Emily.” Sienna stands back and views my artwork from a distance.
She’s right. By the time my canvas is filled with red and gold smears interspersed with vibrant splashes of turquoise and silver, I feel as though I’m ready to take on the world.
Or take on my family, anyway.
While Sienna paints, I walk down to the beach and sit on the sand.
I think about what happened on the private beach attached to Eoghan’s family home. The picnic. The champagne. The orgasms.
My face no longer grows hot at the mental images. Instead, I feel desire. Red-hot desire that makes my pussy tingle and my clit throb, and without thinking, I spread my knees wide. This isn’t just about sex though. Sure, he’s my first, and most people say that they feel a special affection for their first love, but this goes way deeper than a connection to the man who took my virginity.
For me, there will never be another Eoghan. I don’t know how I can say this with utter conviction when I have zero experience to compare it to, but it’s true. What’s the point of going back to the States to finish college when everything I want is right here?
I don’t have a strategy to convince my parents.
I’m simply going to tell them how I feel and go right ahead and quit college anyway.
The way they deal with it is their problem, not mine.
I call Kyle first.
He picks up on the second ring. “Emily? Is Sienna okay?”
“She’s fine.” My heart goes thud-thud-thud while the waves shush across the sand, dragging seashells back with the current.
“Are you with her?”
Of course, he’s concerned, I tell myself. She’s about to have their baby, and he’s on the other side of the Atlantic.
“Yes, we’re at the cottage. She’s painting.”
There’s a pause in which I swear I can see his smile. “You’ll stay with her, now that you’re back.”
It’s a statement, not a question. I promised I would be here for Sienna, but he hasn’t even asked where I’ve been or if I had fun, and sometimes it sucks being the baby of the family. When are they going to let me grow up?
Never, a tiny voice in the back of my mind says.
“Kyle?”
I can hear voices in the background of the call. It’s morning in New York. He’ll be in the office, perhaps in a meeting with my brothers. I resist the temptation to ask him to put me on speaker so that I can tell him where I really was for the past nine days, and who I was with, and all the different ways in which Eoghan ravaged my body while I begged him for more. I want them to know that I’m all grown up now, but I don’t have a death wish.
“What is it, Em? I’m a bit busy right now.”
A calmness settles over me. I’ll tell him when he’s ready to listen.
“I’ll stay with her.” I end the call.
