Page 172 of Dirty Eoin

Jaine:It’s a Decree Absolute. It signifies the end of the annulment process and the legal termination of our marriage. There really isn’t anything to discuss.

She’s right of course. It’s over.

I stare at the slim silver band on my finger. What it signified. What it meant.

Everything.Nothing

Hope.Disappointment.

I never paid much attention to it after she placed it on there. It just became part of me. A sign to those who saw it that I belonged to someone.

It’s only now as I slip it off my finger that I realize just how much a part of me it had become. Just how much a part of meshehad become.

I immediately miss it, but it’s not like I can continue to wear it. I stare at my bare finger, a sign that I no longer belong to anyone.

I place the ring in the desk drawer before glancing around my temporary office.

We’ve all been living under my parents’ roof. Until the threats have been permanently eradicated, it’s been agreed that Jaine and the children will live in the safe space underneath the property, while Duke will stay in the summer house. Until I’m fully convalesced, my ma has insisted that I also reside here. I have my own suite which caters to my every possible need, but it still doesn’t stop her from barging in every five minutes to fuss over me.

This place affords me no privacy whatsoever. Not that I need any. I’m under strict doctor’s orders that sex is banned until my body has fully healed. And not that it matters. I no longer have a wife with whom to undertake the act with anyway, and the thought of fucking anyone apart from Jaine holds no appeal whatsoever.

There’s a soft knock on the door. I know immediately who it is.

“Come in.”

I look up at my nurse as he enters the room.

“Tim.” I smile. He’s a nice lad. Very Celtic looking with his bright red hair and matching freckles. His ma’s Scottish. He definitely found his calling as he has the right personality for this role. He’s friendly and chatty with a joke thrown in here and there to distract you from what he’s doing.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. O’Connell.”

“I’ve asked that you call me Eoin.”

He smiles warmly as he pushes his glasses further up his nose. I’m not sure why I waste my breath repeatedly asking him. I know he’ll never call me Eoin. I’m his employer. He’s my employee. He’s respectful of that.

“How’s the head? Still getting headaches?”

“Yes, but they’re slowly reducing in number and intensity.”

The hole in my head has all but healed, although I still get occasional pain. I’m also currently not allowed to drive, so I have Dec on constant standby.

The stomach wound is taking a little longer to resolve, as most of the time I forget all about it then aggravate the wound by moving or bending too quickly. That’s why Tim’s been tasked with calling in several times a day to keep an eye on things while he changes the dressing.

I exhale as I stand and pull my black t-shirt over my head.

“Melancholy moment?”

He keeps his gaze on what he’s doing, his fingers working deftly.

“My Decree Absolute came today.”

He glances up at me before continuing with what he’s doing. “Not welcomed?”

My silence is all the answer he needs.

“I suppose you can now move on with your life.”

I laugh dryly. “With my Florence Nightingale.”

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