My tears subside with the feel of his strong fingers washing each strand. He then rinses the shampoo out of my hair, shielding my eyes with his hand as he goes about it. Every action has my heart beating a song I never thought it could. A song that only Tiernan could ever coax from me. I let him pull me out of the water and wrap me in a towel to dry me off. He then picks me up and sits me on the sink, making my throat dry in anticipation of what he’ll do or say next. I’m afraid to utter a word, thinking that my voice will somehow break this spell he’s under.
As unlikely as it seems for a man like him, Tiernan is being kind.
More than that.
He’s taking care of me. Loving me—in his own way.
And after all the bruises and cuts that he’s inflicted on my heart, I soak in his kindness like a flower soaks up the sun to prevent it from withering away in the shadows.
Tiernan then picks up my hairbrush and begins to disentangle my wet hair. I can’t remember a time anyone has ever done this for me, or even anyone who made such an effort to ensure I’m well taken care of. Once my hair is properly brushed to his standards, he goes back into my room and brings in my pajamas. When I understand that his intention is to dress me in them, I gently grab his wrist and shake my head.
“I can take it from here,” I whisper.
His disappointed frown is immediate, but he relents and walks out of the bathroom to give me some privacy. I can’t help my own displeasure resurfacing when he leaves the room, ending the rare moment of tenderness, but it had to be done. The next thing I’ll have to do, I’d rather do in private without his intense eyes on me. Once he’s closed the door behind him, I carefully jump off the sink’s counter and put in a tampon before I get dressed. I blow dry my hair just enough for it not to be wet when I go to bed. I’m too exhausted for anything other than sleeping my grief away.
It’s only when I open the door to my bedroom and see Tiernan sitting at the edge of the bed that I realize he never strayed far, even when I told him to go.
“You stayed.”
“Aye.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
I shake my head and walk towards the bed. I slide under its covers, watching my husband slowly take off his clothes until he’s left only in boxers. My gaze never trails down his beautiful body, no matter how much it craves to see him in all his glory. I keep my eyes on his face at all times and don’t move an inch when he climbs in next to me. It’s only when he wraps his arm around me so I can lie cradled against his warmth that I let out a sob at how perfect he’s being.
“Sleep, acushla. Sleep.”
I nestle my head on his chest and close my eyes, loving the feel of his hand stroking my back ever so lightly. And it’s with the sound of Tiernan’s heartbeat that I’m lullabied to sleep, to dream of a world where the only version that existed of my husband was this one.
The next morning when I wake up, I immediately feel his absence in my bed.
Tiernan must have left early in the morning to go to work or wherever else he goes when he’s not home during the day. But even though the left side of my bed is cold without him, the memories of waking up throughout the night and him being right at my side, hugging me to him and whispering sweet nothings in my ear in Gaelic, remain. He didn’t leave my side once, for which I’m grateful.
I turn to the clock on my nightstand and see that it is well past ten in the morning. I must have overslept. Not that there’s anything for me to do today. With me being on my period, there is no reason to meet up with Colin and Shay today. And they were the only two reasons I would ever set foot out of this house anyway.
I get out of bed, my cramps already killing me, to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. Once that’s done, I make my way into the kitchen, hoping a hot cup of coffee will warm my cold bones. I stop halfway when I see Tiernan sitting on the couch in the living room with his laptop open on the coffee table.
“You’re here,” I blurt out.
“That’s the second time you seem surprised to see me in my own home, acushla.” He hides a small smile, looking straight at his computer screen.
“I just assumed you would have left for work already.”
“I decided to work from home today. Unless you prefer that I leave, that is?” he replies automatically, still focused on whatever he’s reading instead of making eye contact.
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me, and walk into the kitchen to grab my morning coffee. When I see that the dishes from our dinner last night have been washed and put away, I crinkle my nose in confusion.