Page 137 of Unrequited
Then he bends, brushing a kiss to my cheek, tender, possessive, familiar.
“Seamus,” I whisper, barely trusting my voice, “tell me what’s going on.”
He falls silent. And my heart starts pounding like a drum trapped in my ribs. That kind of silence speaks louder than words.
“Do you… Do you regret taking me?”
His arms tighten just slightly, not enough to hurt, but just enough to say he's hiding something. Enough to make me feel like there’s something heavy weighing him down.
“Of course not.”
“All right,” I say quietly, not entirely convinced. “You left your phone on the bedside table.”
“Oh, I wondered,” he replies. “Christ, my father would’ve had my head if he sent a message and I missed it.”
He strides across the room and grabs his phone. I watch him as he unlocks it, scrolls through it, and frowns. His brows knit together. Scrolls again. Then, nothing. He pockets the phone like it’s nothing.
“What’s going on?” I ask, softly but firmly.
“My father didn’t text,” he says with a smile. Too fast. Too smooth. Like it’s rehearsed. Either he's hiding something, or he really doesn’t want me to know what Rafail said.
“Go back to mam if you’d like,” he says, his tone shifting. “I have business to tend to, love.”
Business. A word that could mean a thousand things. I can’t stop thinking: Does this business have anything to do with hurting my family?
“I’m just uneasy, Seamus,” I tell him gently. “I wish there could be peace between our families.”
“I know,” he replies, almost sharply. “Don’t you know I know that? I promise. I’m doing everything I can to make that happen.”
“Are you sure you don’t regret marrying me?” I repeat again.
He turns to me slowly, and there’s a warning glint in his eyes. “Ask me that again, and I’ll put you right over my knee.”
I blink.
“Regret taking you?” he says, his voice rising. “Jesus freaking Christ, woman. It was the proudest moment of my life.”
Then he turns, and just like that, he’s gone.
I shower, dress, and get ready. I return to the kitchen, but I’m still stuck on everything we just said… and everything we didn’t.
I text Rafail.
Hey how are you? Things are good here. I met Caitlin McCarthy and I love her.
The response comes back quickly.
Rafail
He treating you well?
So well
I wonder if my response is too canned, too rapid. Will he believe me?
All he writes back is:
Rafail
