“After Caity was found, Rhiannan started texting me under the guise of concern. I rarely responded unless it was a direct question about Mam needing anything,” Eamon says calmly.
My eyes pool with tears. I’m probably overreacting, but the fact that he kept this from me hurts.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me that? And why did she act like she didn’t know you were in a relationship?”
“It never came up.” He shrugs. “And it’s none of her business. This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew it would upset you.”
“Eamon, you could have—should have—told me from the beginning. I would have understood. But now it just seems like you’re hiding things from me. And maybe telling her you were seeing someone would have kept her from messaging you more. Or you could have told her it wasn’t appropriate,” I say, throwing my hands in the air.
He stands and stalks towards me, grasping my hands gently. “Acushla, stop. I don’t want to fight with you. I was just trying to shelter you from the unpleasantness that is Rhiannan, but I can see now that was a mistake. I’m so sorry. I’m not hiding anything from you. She’s nothing to me and never will be.”
I wilt at his admission. Sliding his hands up my arms and over my shoulders to cup my face, he whispers, “It’s just you for me, love.”
Wrapping my hands around his wrists, I close my eyes and inhale deeply to keep any more tears from falling.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I overreacted. Meeting her like that rattled me. You have more important things to worry about than my petty jealousy.”
He leans in to kiss an escaped tear away. “You’ve nothing to be jealous of, I swear it. She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
I snort indelicately, “You sound like Orla downstairs.”
Eamon furrows his brow in confusion. “Who the feck is Orla?”
“She’s the lady that was at the desk when I met Rhiannan. We became friends. She told me she thought I was prettier because of my hair and that she was a redhead in her younger years. She also wants to meet you.”
“Why does she want to meet me?” He chuckles.
“We might have talked about how handsome you are.” I shrug.
“Well, we better not let Orla down. I’d hate for her to miss out on seeing this face,” he teases. “But she’s right. You’re much more beautiful than Rhiannan.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close, kissing the crown of my head. I bury my face in his chest and breathe him in, feeling more peaceful knowing that we can effectively communicate without things getting too heated. Speaking of communication…
“Areyouokay?” I ask. “You seemed a little off earlier.”
He rubs his hands up and down my back soothingly. “Aye, I’m alright. I’m sorry for brushing you off like I did.”
“It’s okay,” I mutter. “I know you have a lot on your mind. Just remember that I’m here to help, so please let me. If you need space, then tell me. I can’t read your mind, and my first instinct is to comfort you when you’re struggling. I promise you won’t hurt my feelings if you need some time to yourself.”
He doesn’t say a word, just tightens his arms around me and presses another kiss to my head. The gesture isn’t as reassuring as it should be.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Norah
We spend the day in Caity’s hospital room, talking quietly or reading. Occasionally, I drift off—jet lag is no joke. I did eventually get that cup of coffee, but it wasn’t enough to clear the fog in my brain. Deciding that I need some fresh air, I look over at Eamon to ask if he wants to walk with me but find that he dozed off at some point. I don’t have the heart to wake him. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally.
“He still looks like my little boy when he sleeps,” Rosie whispers from her seat next to Caity’s bed. “When he was just a wee lad, he’d curl up in my lap and beg for a story. We’d end up reading a few different books, but by the end of the last one, he’d be asleep. I can remember staring at his sweet face for what felt like hours. So peaceful. Not a care in the world. But when he was awake, he was a problem solver. If he couldn’t fix something, he feltlike he had failed.” Her features go from happily reminiscent to sorrowful as she closes her eyes and sighs. “I fear that’s what’s going through his head now.”
I nod in agreement. “I think you’re right. I wish I knew how to help him.”
“Ach, youarehelping him just by being here. Sometimes, all a person needs is to know that they have someone in their corner when the hard times come. His Da and I always worked better as a team than individually. Lord, how I miss that man,” she says in a tremulous voice.
“I’m so sorry, Rosie. I understand loss and how lonely it can be. After my Mom passed away, I felt like I was just drifting through the days, doing the absolute minimum to get by. I can’t even begin to imagine grieving with children.”
Rosie smiles sadly before turning to me. “It was harder and easier, in a way. Carrying the weight of two young wan’s grief while also drowning in your own is nearly impossible. But they also proved to be a sweet distraction. Children can only focus on one thing for so long before they’re off on the next adventure. I remember this one time, several days after Seamus passed, Eamon and Caity were out in the garden bickering about who knows what. Caity comes running in, wailing like a banshee and covered in mud. ‘Mam! Eamon threw mud at me!’ And here comes Eamon, with a shite-eating grin on his face.” She shakes her head, huffing a laugh.
“‘Eamon Kennedy, what have you to say for yourself?’ I asked, sternly. He looked me right in the eye and said, ‘Aye, I did it. But she kept poking me in the arse with a stick!’ It took everything in me not to bust up laughing. So I said, ‘Eamon, don’t sayarse. That’s a grown-up word.’ He looked at me like I was daft. ‘But Da said the only words I can’t say are the ones I don’t know what they mean. Likefuckandgobshite. I hear those all the time, but I don’t know what they mean.’ At that moment, I wanted to throttle Seamus. I always told him that he was too grown up with them. Teaching them things they were too young to be learning.”
