Page 46 of Irish Brute
He raises his eyebrows as I enter, his lips curling in the smallest of smiles. He sets aside his stack of newspapers and, mercy of mercies, he pours me coffee at the sideboard. He remembers I take it with a single splash of cream.
Aiofe notices my wince as I reach for the butter. A frown creases her face, and she gets up from her chair. She carries the butter around the table to me, along with the sparkling dish of marmalade.
After she places them close to my plate, she brushes my forehead with the back of her hand. It’s the gesture of a mother testing a child for fever, offering comfort through illness. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” I say, the endearment falling from my lips without thought. Then, to distract her, I ask, “Who was playing piano in the middle of the night?”
Braiden wrestles his expression to something as neutral as Aiofe’s tea-splashed milk. “Piano?”
“It sounded like someone was practicing the same piece, over and over.”
“You must have been dreaming.”
“I looked at the clock. It was 1:37 in the morning.”
His shoulders twitch in the slightest of shrugs. “I didn’t hear anything. I think you were asleep. Did you do anything yesterday to tire you out?”
My blush is so strong it makes me cough. I try to cover by gulping my coffee, blinking rapidly when I realize it’s still hotter than the molten core of the earth. After that, I apply serious attention to my breakfast.
Braiden pushes back from the table while Aiofe and I are still eating. “Enjoy your day,” he says.
“Where are you going?”
“Downtown,” he says. “I have bad news to deliver to the wife of one of my lieutenants.”
The suit… Bad news… I remember his raw fury yesterday, and I have no doubt that someone died. My suspicion is only strengthened when he shoots the quickest of glances toward Aiofe.
He’s telling me not to ask more. He doesn’t want to upset the child. So I dutifully change the topic. “May I have my computer, please?”
“Our honeymoon lasts through the weekend.”
“Our honeymoonconnotes that my husband will be here to keep me company.”
“I promise you: Your husband would much rather be here with you than doing what he has to do.”
He leaves before I can reply—either with another challenge or with condolences. For one brief moment, I consider ransacking his office to find my laptop. But I’m not sure I could walk after whatever punishment he would hand out.
And I am absolutely positive he would punish me.
I’m not sure what people do with down time. Aiofe bundles up in her puffy pink coat and ventures through the back yard, toward the pool house and the cottages beyond.
I assume she’s going to visit Grace. Even if I follow her, I won’t get any details about Aiofe and her brother, not with the silent child there to listen.
And—I’ll never admit this out loud—Grace frightens me. Maybe it’s her intensity. Or the sly look that makes it seem like she knows exactly what Braiden and I have done. Or it could just be the stench of whiskey, seeping from her pores.
So I spend my Saturday in the library on the ground floor. I curl up on one of the overstuffed couches, warm beneath a cashmere throw. I read a copy ofGulliver’s Travelsthat I borrow from one of the shelves in the hall, spending almost as much time napping as I do revisiting the childhood favorite.
Sunday isn’t much different. I come downstairs to find a note from Braiden. He’s already left for work, and Fairfax has the day off. Aiofe’s nowhere to be found, so I raid the refrigerator.
Eat. Read. Doze.
I vow things will be different tomorrow. It will be Monday. Our lives will go back to normal. I’ll get my computer back. Braiden and I willbothgo to work. I’ll get a new phone.
At least Mondaystartsas a better day. I come downstairs in my favorite Alexander McQueen suit. The black wool feels likearmor. My matching leather pumps give me three extra inches of height and the feeling that I’m conquering the world.
Fairfax’s breakfast spread finally seems to have a purpose—it’s ballast for a long day of meetings. Aiofe finishes her milk tea and gives Braiden a kiss before she heads up to the nursery, where her tutor waits.
“I’ll need my computer now,” I say to Braiden once she’s gone.
“It’s already in the car.”
