Page 108 of Dirty Eoin

“Jesus Christ. Maybe you should become a goddamn lawyer.”

I ignore her barb. “Why that choice?” I repeat.

She shrugs. “I was an ugly duckling growing up. I was skinny with zero shape. I wore glasses. I had train track braces. I also liked guns and practiced MMA several times a week at my pop’s insistence. I was different from the other girls. Aside from having a bedroom that was pink and fluffy, I was never a girly girl. I was a classic tomboy. I guess in many ways I still am, hence the tank tops and combats. It’s what I feel most comfortable in. Back then, the kids my age thought me a creep and a weirdo, hence the song choice. I guess rather than try to hide my freak, I just flew the flag as high as I could and embraced it.”

“But he loved you? Ace? Regardless of the way you were and how you looked?”

“I guess he did.”

“And Paddy?”

She shrugs again. “Who knows? I was still a creep and a weirdo when I met him. I never was sure what he saw in me because even back then he was turning every female head. Did he love me? You tell me. Do you cheat on someone you love?”

“Razr?”

“Delaney and I fell into a relationship at a time when we both just desperately needed someone. That was our priority, I guess. Being there for each other. We never felt the need to share a song. You done interrogating me now?”

“I’m just trying to understand you.”

“There’s nothing much to understand. I grew up around an MC compound. My pop was their lawyer and I followed in his footsteps. That’s about it.”

I’m sure there’s more to her than what she’s just summarized, but I leave it for now. It’s one step forward. I don’t want to risk taking two steps back by pushing her too hard. We’ve got the rest of our lives together for me to glean the finer details. I want to know everything there is to know about my headstrong wife.

“What’s our song?”

There’s a pause. I’ve asked a question she doesn’t wish to answer.

“We don’t have one.” Her voice is quiet, the guilt evident.

Am I disappointed? I’m not sure. She clearly thinks me undeserving of a song. That nothing springs to mind because I don’t inspire anything like that in her.

I’m not sure how I feel about that given how much she inspires in me.

“And why is that?”

“I guess because you and I didn’t start off in a conventional way. There was no real relationship beforehand. Well, apart from an extremely toxic one.”

I pause. “And what do you…”

“Do you want us to have a song?” she interjects. She clearly doesn’t wish to discuss our relationship. I want to know if she sees us as conventional now. If she ever will. Or will she forever think of us as toxic?

I pause again as I consider what she’s asked. “I think I’d like that.”

There’s a shared silence. Is she thinking what I am? About what having a song together actually means? It’s not something you share with just anyone. A special song is something you hear that makes you instantly think of the other person.

Yourperson.

I’ve never shared one with a woman. Aside from the physical act of sex, I’ve never shared any part of myself with any female before now.

“Do you want me to run my choice past you or are you okay with letting me decide?”

“I trust you to pick the correct song.”

“You trust me.” Her tone is quiet, almost hesitant.

“Yes, Jaine. I trust you.”

She pauses, no doubt to digest what I’ve just said. What it’s silently implying. That I trust her, and I’m not only referring to a simple song choice.

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