“Sorry.Rosie,” I say pointedly, grinning at her. “Just tea would be lovely.”
“Grand! I’ll be right back. Eamon, would you give Norah the tour? I’ve set your room up with fresh sheets and all…” She hesitates. “I don’t mean to be sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I assumed you’d be sharing a room. I can make up Caity’s if need be…”
“One room is fine, Mam,” Eamon says, clearing his throat nervously, his cheeks coloring slightly.
Rosie’s cheeks turn a darker shade of red. “Right, I’ll just go wet the tea.” She scurries down the hall towards what I assume is the kitchen.
“Well,” I begin, eyeing Eamon, “that wasn’t awkward at all. If she’s uncomfortable with us sharing, I don’t mind moving to a separate room.”
“No,” he says quickly. “That doesn’t bother her. She and Da weren’t married before they…uh…right. It’s just a topic that can be a bit tricky talking about with your Mam while your girlfriend is standing there.”
I nod in understanding. “It’s awkward being the girlfriend while your boyfriend discusses sleeping arrangements with his mother. I don’t want her to think I’m some sort of hussy!”
Eamon rolls his eyes and grabs my hand. “C’mon, Acushla. Let’s go check out the den of iniquity.”
Leading me up the staircase, we turn left at the landing. It’s a short hallway with two doors on either side. The walls are covered in a subtle, floral wallpaper and various paintings and photographs.
“Right, so, this first door,” he says, pointing to the right, “is the jacks. Shower, all that. Across from it is Caity’s room. My room is the last on theleft, and across from that is the office. Mam’s room is back on the other side of the stairs.”
I follow him to the last door on the left, suddenly feeling butterflies in my stomach. We’ve shared much more than a bed, but something about being in the room he grew up in, in his mother’s house, makes me feel like a teenager sneaking into a boy’s room.
He stops in front of the door and crosses his arms. “There are a few rules you must know before entering this room, Grady.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is that right, Kennedy?”
“Aye,” he begins with a quick nod of his head. “First, thou shalt not laugh at anything that may or may not still be hanging on the walls or sitting on the shelves. I told her to turn this into a guest room, but she refuses to change anything about it. Second, thou shalt not rummage through the closets and drawers, for fear of being subjected to twenty-plus-year-old jumpers that should have been tossed in the bin ages ago. And last…” He steps closer and leans down to kiss the space between my neck and shoulder before murmuring in my ear, “Thou shalt not wear any clothing when in my bed.”
I shiver and croak out, “Why not?”
“Because I’ve been fantasizing about having you naked in this bed since I knew we were staying here,” he says, nibbling my earlobe.
“That’s a little weird,” I breathe out, pressing my body closer to his.
Eamon chuckles and slips his hands under my sweater, gripping my waist. “I want you in every part of my life. I can’t go back in time and make you a part of my past, but we can pretend we’re teenagers, and I can fuck you in my bed.”
“Hmm, I didn’t know that being back in Ireland would bring out the dirty talk. I’m not sad about it.” I hook my fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and pull him closer.
“Eamon, love, the tea is ready!” Rosie calls up the stairs, effectively putting an end to our heated moment.
He growls in frustration, resting his forehead on my shoulder.
“What?” I giggle. “Did you really think making tea would take that long?”
He pinches my side, causing me to squeak in protest. “No, but a man can dream, can’t he? This isn’t over, Acushla.”
I kiss his cheek before saying, “I’d be disappointed if it was. Now, come on. You’ve kept your mother waiting for years. Let’s not make her wait any longer.”
We lumber down the stairs and back into the sitting room where Rosie is perched in an armchair, pouring steaming tea into mugs.
“Thanks, Mam,” Eamon mutters, pressing a kiss to her cheek before taking a seat on the sofa next to me. After doctoring our mugs and getting settled, he turns his attention to his Mom. “How’s Caity?”
Rosie lets out a heavy sigh, her eyes flooding with tears. “She’s stable but still comatose. They talked about waking her up soon if the swelling in her brain goes down.”
He nods absently. “Has the prognosis changed at all, then? Are her chances of going without brain damage any better?”
She shakes her head in defeat. “It’s anyone’s guess at this point. Oh, Eamon. Where did I go wrong with her?”
“Mam, stop,” he urges. “I already told ya; you didn’t do anything wrong. Caity has been difficult most of her life, and it only got worse after Da passed. She always hung with the wrong crowd, and there’s not a thing you could have done to stop her, short of sending her off to a nunnery. I doubt even that would have helped. She would have taken it as a personal challenge to see how much shite she could stir up.”
