So I talk to her, telling her about the most recent games and stats. She loves baseball. I never used to watch, but I know she loves it, so I try to keep up. Someone has to talk to her about it.
I don’t think about what I tell her next as much as I probably should.
“I’m getting married,” I say quietly. “I know you wanted that for me.”
But I know that’s not true.
She wanted me to fall in love. Marry a girl I adore, just like she adored my father.
I wonder if she could see me now, if she would be proud.
Or would she just be disgusted?
My jaw clenches, my chest tightening. After a few long moments of silence, I stand.
“Goodbye, mom. I’ll be back later.”
I turn to leave the room and shut the door as quietly as I can, as if she’s just asleep and I’m trying not to wake her.
I know it’s a useless lie. It doesn’t make me feel any better, and it won’t bring her back.
When I leave the hospital, I feel like there’s a lead weight on my shoulders. Today has gone all kinds of fucking wrong.
It’s all screwed, and I need a goddamn drink.
CHAPTER11
Rose
I lie in bed and try to empty my mind, breathing deeply and counting each inhale, focusing on the sound and the feeling.
It doesn’t work.
My mind is still racing, my entire body infused with agitation. After Aiden left, I went back up to the en suite bathroom and showered again, as if twenty minutes under scalding water could somehow wash away the feeling of his hand squeezing my breast, his body pressing up against mine.
When he didn’t return by dinnertime, I made myself some food from the pantry and ate alone. When he wasn’t back by eleven o’clock, I crawled into bed and tried to fall asleep.
That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past two hours.
The room is dark, but there’s enough ambient light for me to see the shape of the furniture set against the walls, and I roll over onto my side and stare at them, willing myself to fall asleep.
After what feels like at least another hour, I hear the distant sound of the front door opening and closing. My heart stutters in my chest, and I shut my eyes, pretending I’m asleep.
The stairs creak under Aiden’s feet, and a few moments later, he opens the bedroom door. I keep my eyes closed and my breathing deep, and when he walks closer to the bed, I can smell him. He smells like a bar, like alcohol and cigarettes. It’s probably Tír na Nóg, the strip club the O’Reillys own. They’ve owned it for years.
The whiskey and smoke on Aiden is cut by the stronger scent of cheap perfume, a little bit acidic and heavy with floral tones.
Something one of the dancers wears, maybe?
Fuck. It doesn’t matter, Rose. Let him screw whoever he wants. I keep my eyelids shut and remind myself none of this matters. I don’t care what he does at that club or who he does, for that matter. Aiden isn’t mine, and I don’t want him to be.
He’s clearly drunk. I can hear him bump softly into things, muttering and tossing clothes onto the floor. The mattress shifts, and I fight not to tense up. He crawls in beside me, and I’m careful not to do anything to betray the fact that I’m not actually asleep. The last thing I need is for him to decide now is the time to talk.
Or continue what he started downstairs before he left so suddenly.
When a thick, muscled arm snakes around my waist, my breath stops for a second. I twitch, the instinct to pull away kicking in before I can stop it. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice.
Aiden pulls me closer, against the warmth of his body. I can feel his face press into my hair, can hear him inhale like he’s taking me into his lungs.
