“Why then?”
She took a deep breath with her mouth open wide. She filled her lungs, expanding her chest. “This is fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
“What you did last night was unacceptable. You don’t get to choose my friends. And Rory is a friend.”
Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but she stopped him with a pointed finger. “Let me finish.”
She dropped her hand. “Yes, Rory and I had a long relationship. We were friends before anything else, and you’re well aware that the anything else was quite minimal. You’ve nothing to worry about with Rory because he’s in love with someone else. A lovely man named Michael.”
The anger that had been bubbling to the surface to stake his claim over Deirdre was immediately doused by her words. “What? Did you say he’s gay?”
She nodded and licked her lips. “All of this is my fault in so many ways.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Early on, when Rory first broke up with me, I was embarrassed. Ashamed. Then, as we began our relationship, Rory wasn’t part of the conversation. Again, my fault.” The muscle in her jaw twitched.
Tommy wanted to scoop her up and kiss her. Yeah, it had been one doozy of a fight, but it had been a simple misunderstanding. If he had known Rory was gay, he wouldn’t have cared that she was talking to him.
“Can we sit?”
He reached for her hand. “Let’s go inside.”
She hesitated and pulled away. “Actually, can we just sit here?”
He didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. Was he really going to lose her because his temper had gotten the better of him?
“I’m sorry, Deirdre. It won’t happen again. I wasn’t myself last night. You know that.”
“Please, sit.” She turned and sat on the top step. She wrapped her arms around her knees and waited for him.
He sat close, wanting her to feel him. He wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
She stared across the street. “I called Rory last night because I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I’ve just started a new job and you want me at your games and practices and Jimmy was talking about the immigration interview. It was all too much.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to rock the boat. You always seem so happy. This is on me, not you. We met at a time when I needed to escape being myself because I couldn’t face everything that had happened with Rory. But that’s not who I am.”
“I’m not following you.”
“I’m a homebody, Tommy. All the trips to the pub and to see your games and girls’ night with Maggie. Everyone wants pieces of me, and I don’t know how to do that. I need to be able to step away and be by myself.”
“Okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. You fell in love with a girl who wanted to go out and have fun. I feel like I’ve lied to you.”
“Well, if you did, you’re a better liar than you said you were.” He nudged her shoulder, hoping for a smile, but she sniffed. “Hey, I’m joking. I know who I fell in love with. That hasn’t changed.”
“But I’m a horrible, selfish person.”
“No you’re not.”
“I am. Here it is in black-and-white.” She shoved a piece of paper at him.
“What’s this?”
“A list of everything you’ve done for me. On the back is what I’ve done for you.” She laid her forehead on her knees.
Tommy read the list. It brought a huge smile to his face. “Hey, I get everything out of number four that you do. Maybe more.”
Still no smile.
He got to the bottom of the list and his heart thumped with pleasure. Then he flipped the paper over and saw nothing.
“See?” she asked with her head down, but her arms up. “I don’t deserve you.” Her arms came down and her hands landed on the back of her head.
He was too fucking hungover and tired to do this. His brain hurt, but he needed to tell her something. “Your side of the paper shouldn’t be blank.”
She didn’t move.
“You married me, even though that meant leaving your home and family. You made special desserts for my dad. You come to my games even when you’re tired and you have to get up for work.”
She dropped her hands and turned her face to him, but didn’t raise her head. Her eyes were glassy, but at least she wasn’t crying.
He pulled her shoulder to make her sit up. “Most important, Cupcake, you make me happy.”
Her lips trembled. “But I never even said I love you.”
His heart stuttered. “Do you?”
She nodded weakly. “I was so afraid of being blindsided and rejected after Rory that I held back.”
He took her face in his hands, letting the paper fall away. “Then tell me now.”
“I love you.”
“Fuck. That’s sounds good.” He pressed his lips to hers. A tear fell and landed on his fingers.
Her shaking hands pulled his away. “Don’t,” she whispered.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t think straight when you’re kissing me. And you—”
“What?”
“Can’t just ignore everything I’ve said.” Her eyes were pleading with him, but he had no idea what she needed.
“I’m not ignoring shit. You love me. I love you. Did you think that I would walk away because you don’t want to come to every hockey game?”
“It’s what you thought you were getting.”
“I know who I married. You. And yeah, there will be times when I want you to come to a game so we can be together. Other times, you’ll tell me to fuck off because you need space. It’s compromise.”
“Sometimes you’ll throw a computer and I’ll call you an asshole?” For the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled at him.
“Yeah—I mean, no. I promise I will not lose my shit and break your stuff, but yeah, we’ll call each other on our bullshit.”
“You still want to do this?”
“Hell yeah, I do. I’m not giving you up without a fight, Cupcake.”
“No fight necessary. You have me.”
Epilogue
Two months later
Tommy stared at Mr. Walton, the immigration officer assigned to their case. While Jimmy’s friend had helped prep them, he couldn’t take the case because it would be unethical. Sometimes having a brother who was a cop was a pain in the ass.
“Mrs. O’Malley,” Walton started.
It still sounded weird to think of Deirdre as Mrs. O’Malley.
“Tell me about when you met Mr. O’Malley.”
Ah, fuck. This was the one question she hadn’t been able to master. She was such a horrible liar. She glanced at Tommy and smiled. Sliding her gaze back to Walton, she said, “I was staying at my Aunt Eileen’s house, which happens to be across the street from Tommy’s family’s house. Tommy was working on his car.” She chuckled. “Actually, no. His brother Sean was working on the car and yelling at Tommy.”
Tommy remembered that day. It was the first time he’d made the connection between her and the O’Learys. But she hadn’t taken notice of him at all.
“Tommy walked across the street and asked me out.” The lie came from her lips smoothly.
“I took her totally by surprise,” Tommy interjected.
“And what happened?” Walton asked.
“I turned him down. I had a boyfriend back in Ireland.”
“What about your families?”
“We live with my dad and my brother.”
“Are you involved with the family?” Walton directed the question to Deirdre.
“Very. I try different recipes to help Seamus—that’s Tommy father—with his diabetes. We go to all family functions together. For example, we attended his brother Jimmy’s wedding last month. Jimmy married my cousin Moira.”
Tommy shook his head. “I know it sounds a little like a daytime talk show, but I swear it�
�s not that weird.”
Walton chuckled. “Trust me. That doesn’t even touch the top twenty weird things I’ve heard this week.”
The interview went on for almost an hour. The man asked about everything from their sex life (which made Deirdre turn a hundred shades of red) to their morning routine (which they didn’t have because they still worked opposite schedules). At least Tommy didn’t feel like Walton was out to get them.
At the end, he said they would be in touch if there were any other questions, but everything seemed to be in order.
“That’s it?” Tommy asked.
Deirdre squeezed his hand. “The lovely man said we’re done.”
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. O’Malley, and good luck.” Walton rose and they all shook hands.
* * *
Deirdre was practically shaking. Once they left the immigration office, she pushed Tommy’s arm. “What were you thinking? The man says we’re done and you question him as though you want more?”
Tommy shrugged. “I thought it’d be harder. More like a real interrogation. They didn’t even separate us.”
“That’s a good thing. Jimmy said if we managed to get through this without being accused of fraud, we’d be fine.”
“Speaking of good . . .” He lowered his mouth and kissed her, stealing her breath. “How the hell did you pull off the story about how we met? Not a hint of it being a lie.”
She slid her arms around his waist. “Jimmy taught me how to lie, but made it clear that if I were to ever use that skill on you, he’d make me pay.”
“Jimmy helped you.” Tommy said it with complete wonderment in his voice.
“We talked after he and Moira got back from their honeymoon. I guess he realized that I’m here to stay.”
The last two months had been hard as she and Tommy tried to find their way and compromise with each other. He still wanted her undivided attention all the time, and she continued to need to be alone to be in her head. But when they got together, they were magical.
Being married to Tommy O’Malley was more than she’d ever dreamed a marriage could be.
“So what do we do now, Mrs. O’Malley?”
“I’m pretty sure your family is waiting to celebrate with us.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to be wherever you are. Let’s have dinner with them so we can get to our own celebration tonight.” She laced her fingers with his as they turned to catch a train to get back home.
“That sounds like a plan.”
“Now that we’re all official in the eyes of your government, I wonder if the orgasms will be better. What do you think?”
“I think you’re still killing me, Cupcake.”
“I plan to continue to do that for many years to come. How else will you know how much I love you?”
“You could just tell me.”
She stopped in the middle of the busy Chicago sidewalk and stared into the deep blue eyes of her husband. “I love you, Thomas Keiran O’Malley, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with you.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “You had to middle-name me, didn’t you?”
“Excellent practice for when we have our own little O’Malleys.”
“I love you, but let’s not rush that. I’m not ready to share you.”
“That’s good because I’ve not had my fill of you yet, either.”
Then he kissed her and people stopped and stared and yelled and whistled, but she didn’t care because she was where she belonged—with her husband.
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“Damn it.” Emma stared at the plume of steam snaking up through her hood and popped the lever before slamming her car door. She’d been doing so well today. Not one curse word, not even under her breath. Not after her heart-to-heart with her boss to talk about the importance of making sure kids showed up on the first day of school. Not even after waiting for a roomful of parents to attend the back-to-school open house only to be greeted with three. Out of twenty-six.
Hard to convince parents their kids shouldn’t miss school when the parents aren’t interested. They didn’t care if funding got cut or if she lost her job.
She’d managed to keep her frustration in check through all of that. But this, her car, might drive her over the edge, especially since Nicky had assured her he’d fixed the hose. As she levered the hood up to assess the problem, she prayed she wouldn’t have to kill her brother for taking her money and lying to her. She paced and waited for the engine compartment to cool so she could test her theory. The sight didn’t make her day any better.
“Goddamn fudge monkey.” The halfway-improvised curse did nothing for her. No, this was definitely one of those situations where she shouldn’t feel guilty about using all five of her daily allotted swear words at once. “Fucking lying piece-of-shit asshole.” Then she kicked the bumper but almost lost her balance because of the stupid heels she wore to look professional.
Stomping back to the driver’s seat, she reached in for her phone and called Nicky, only to get his voice mail. She inhaled deeply and forced a softer tone. “Hey, Nicky. Guess what? I’m sitting on the side of the highway right now with steam pouring from my radiator. You know anything about that? ’Cause you should. I paid you to replace the hose. Yet I’m looking at the same damn hole.”
So she’d exaggerated the trickle of steam, but she needed Nicky to understand how pissed she was. She should’ve just taken care of it herself. She knew how to fix it. High school shop class had taught her a few things. Her boyfriends had taught her more. But Nicky needed cash and she hated fixing anything on her car, so she’d paid him to do the work. She hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t do it. Tossing her phone back on the seat, she stood and thought about her options. Calling the auto club would mean waiting at least an hour. They never rushed anywhere. Glancing down at the clothes she wore, her only good suit, she knew if she attempted a temporary fix to get off the expressway, she ran the risk of ruining it.
She took her keys from the ignition and opened the trunk to look for duct tape. Once the engine cooled, she could seal the hole and get to a shop. She dug through the junk that had mysteriously accumulated in the trunk. An old blanket, an empty box of animal crackers, and her emergency kit. She unzipped the pouch to find two bandages and antibiotic ointment. No flares, no cables, and of course, no duct tape.
Her first boyfriend, who had taught her to drive, had given her an emergency kit. Her second boyfriend had taught her the value of carrying duct tape. Knowing Nicky, he’d probably swiped it one of the many times he’d borrowed her car. The least he could’ve done was tape the hole. She slammed the trunk shut and couldn’t resist calling her brother an asshole one more time. By her count, she was now two over her allotment for cursing.
As she moved back to grab her phone to call the auto club, a motorcycle rumbled close to her location and pulled off the road. Great. Just what she needed: another guy to add to the mess of her day.
He cut the engine and swung a leg over the bike to dismount. The tight jeans over black boots, topped with a stretched white T-shirt, weren’t lost on her. He took off his helmet and Emma braced herself for what would surely follow. He’d come over and hit on her, and she’d get more pissed off. She thought about reaching in her bag for her pepper spray. He turned around and smiled at her while running a hand through his short hair.
With the setting sun off to the side, his face was lit with a glow, and amazingly blue eyes stared at her. His smile wasn’t a bit lecherous. Just friendly.
“Hey. Need some help?” He took only one small step closer. He looked her up and down and waited for a response.
“No. It’s a hole in my radiator hose.”
One eyebrow lifted. As if she shouldn’t be able to diagnose the problem. Men.
“Can I take a look?”
&nb
sp; She waved her arms out. “Go ahead.” At least while he was under the hood, she’d have time to get her pepper spray and her phone.
Sitting on the edge of the driver’s seat with her feet tapping, she waited on hold with the auto club. Blue Eyes came closer to the door and cleared his throat. She glanced at him.
“You’re right. It’s the hose. Only a small hole, but it needs to be replaced.”
No, duh. “Thanks. I’m calling the auto club now for a tow.”
“Do you have a shop you want to get it to?”
“Wherever they tow me is where I’ll go.”
“If you want, I can do a temporary fix and take you to the shop I work at. It’s only about a mile off the highway. It’ll save you towing fees and you can get out of here now.”
She sighed as the easy-listening music played in her ear. Climbing from the car, she said, “I already thought of that. My duct tape is missing from my trunk.”
He laughed. “Something tells me I should be worried about a chick who carries duct tape in her trunk.”
She suddenly realized how bad that sounded and laughed too. Nothing about this day was going right. “I have it for emergencies, not to tie up my captives.”
He crossed his arms, causing his shirt to tighten on his biceps and drawing her eye to a tattoo peeking out. He smiled and added, “Maybe I should take your picture to let my friends know who I’m with in case I disappear.”
Oh, man. He was cute. She didn’t want him to be cute.
“How do you propose to fix it?” she asked.
He flicked a thumb over his shoulder. “With the duct tape I have in my saddlebag.”
“Now who should be worried?” The words slipped without her thinking about the fact that she was flirting. She knew better. She really did.
His smile slipped and his face became serious. “Feel free to keep your distance. I’m doing what I hope someone would do for my sister if she was stuck on the side of the road. Besides, a body won’t fit in a saddlebag.”
He turned to his bike and opened the side compartment. Emma waited until he returned with a roll of tape. Leaning on her front fender, she smiled. “Hey, I was kidding. I appreciate this. My brother was supposed to fix it. I wouldn’t have kept driving if I’d known he’d flaked.” Which shouldn’t have surprised her at all. Nicky always flaked.
Through Your Eyes Page 30
