More of You

by Gretchen Tubbs

  “I think I’ll stay out here for a bit. Goodnight,” he says, not even bothering to look up from what he’s doing.

  Not once since we’ve established our relationship has this happened. No matter what Finn is doing, he comes to bed with me. He might not stay with me after I fall asleep, but he tucks me in and reads to the babies. My throat is clogged and tight as I stand in the living room, stunned with disbelief.

  Instead of walking to the bedroom, I walk back over to the couch. I pull the beer and sketch pad out of his hands and put them on the table. I take a seat next to them.

  “What’s going on, Irish?”

  He huffs out a breath, running his hands though his hair. “Nothing. I keep telling you that. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re pulling away from me. This is killing me, Finn.”

  He looks up, his eyes glassy, the rims of them red. He looks tired, haunted.

  I pull in a deep breath, surprised at myself for what I’m about to say.

  “If you are having second thoughts about any of this, about us, I need to know. I can’t let you just string me along, only to leave me and the babies later on. I can’t take that, Finn. Losing you now would be a colossal hurt, but losing you any later would absolutely destroy me.”

  Finn slides down the couch onto the floor, kneeling at my feet, grabbing my hands. We both have tears in our eyes. I brace for what he’s going to say.

  This is it. He’s ending it.

  “You told me that you trusted me. I need you to trust me now. This has nothing to do with you or our family. I would rather lose my life than leave you, Magpie. You are my home. Please understand that.”

  He leans up to my face, his breath warm against my skin. I’m sad that his mouth doesn’t land on mine, but moves to my ear instead.

  “Táim i ngrá leat.”

  I don’t know what he said, but I don’t think he wants me to know. If he did, it would have come out in English.

  He pulls away, wiping at the wetness on my face. “Let me put you to bed.”

  We get in bed, Finn wrapping his body around mine from behind. His hand is rubbing gentle patterns on my stomach.

  “I can’t read to them tonight. I’ll do it again soon, but not tonight.”

  I nod into my pillow, even though I don’t understand what’s going on with my poor Finn. He kisses the crown of my head, and I close my eyes, trying to settle my mind. I have a feeling neither of us will be getting much sleep tonight.

  When I wake up the next morning, Finn isn’t in the bed. It’s still pretty early, too early for either of us to be up. I make my way to the front of the apartment and I see him on the couch, sketching.

  “Have you been up all night?” I ask through a yawn.

  “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep. What are you doing up so early?” he asks, setting down his stuff. He looks exhausted.

  “I didn’t sleep too well, either. I told you I can’t sleep when you’re not in the bed with me.”

  He smiles, rising from the couch. “Come on then, let’s go catch a few hours before we have to face the day.”

  “And just what are we facing?” I ask as he steers me down the hallway.

  “I’m working all day. Aren’t you going shopping with the boys?”

  “Yes, and it’s Wednesday. Dinner at Mom’s house tonight.”

  “I have some pretty late appointments. I’ll try to make it, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen,” he tells me as we crawl into bed.

  “It’s alright. I don’t think I’ll stay too long. I’ll drag the boys with me and then make them whisk me away early.”

  “I’m glad you have them all in your life, Maggie. Both the boys and your family,” he says, yawning into the back of my head.

  “Me, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Well, did you Google it?” Troy asks, dying to know what Finn said to me last night.

  “I can barely repeat it, much less spell it for Google,” I tell him. “I don’t think he wanted me to know what it means. It was hardly said loud enough for me to hear, plus he said it in a language I can’t understand.” I let out a frustrated huff of air, feeling defeated. “I feel like I’m skating on thin ice. I didn’t ask any questions. I just let him have his moment and then dropped it.”

  Troy, Landon, and I have been shopping all day and I’m worn out. I decide to pick up a late lunch for Finn before heading back to the apartment for some rest before dinner at Momma’s house. He always forgets to eat when he’s working. I text him on my way there, but didn’t get a reply. He must be with a customer.

  When I walk in, Judd, one of the other artists, is sitting at the desk, fooling around on the computer. He looks up when the bell chimes.

  “Hey, Mags. Are you working today? I thought you were off.”

  “No,” I tell him. “I just came by to drop off some food for Finn. I’ll just head back there.”

  Judd stops me. “He’s not here.”

  “Oh. Did he leave for lunch? I texted him, but I haven’t heard back.”

  “No. I mean he didn’t work today. He usually comes in to check on things when he’s not on the books, but I haven’t seen him around yet.”

  I feel Troy and Landon at my back, bracing for my impending panic.

  I will not freak out in front of Judd.

  “That’s right.” I say, rubbing my head, blaming this on my pregnancy brain, not on the fact that Finn’s lied to me. “I totally forgot that today’s Wednesday, not Thursday. Looks like you’re getting a free lunch today.” I throw the bag on the counter and turn around. I have to get out of here before I vomit on the floor.

  “See you later,” I call out as I push through the doors.

  As soon as we get outside and away from the shop’s windows I drop my hands to my knees, trying to get my breathing under control. I’m in full panic mode.

  What is Finn doing?

  “You’ve got to calm down,” Landon is saying. “Your blood pressure is probably through the roof. Come on. Let’s get you in the car. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all of this.” He’s propelling me to the car, trying to get me there as quickly as possible.

  “Are you sure he said that he was working?” Troy asks as we get in his car.

  “Yes. We talked about it this morning. He said he was working all day couldn’t come with me tonight because he had some late appointments. He lied to me. He said to trust him and he lied. He’s hiding something.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. Let’s get you home. Maybe he’s there.”

  When we pull up at the complex, my car is parked half-cocked right in front of the walkway to our apartment. I have so many things running through my head, and none of them are painting Finn in a very flattering light. Is he in there with someone? He thinks I’m going to my mom’s house, so he could be doing anything. Why did he lie to me? Is he planning on leaving? Today was the perfect opportunity to get his stuff together and get out.

  The door isn’t locked, so I push my way through, with Troy and Landon flanked behind me. The apartment is dark, except for the light burning in the hallway. Finn’s door is cracked, the haunting strains of some pretty morose music coming from the end of the hall. Okay, I think, not exactly seduction music. I hope to hell he’s in there alone.

  “I got this, boys, y’all can go,” I tell my friends.

  I’m terrified to go in there, but I don’t want witnesses. I need to face this alone.

  “I don’t really like this, Maggie. We can wait in here while you go see what’s going on,” Troy tells me.

  “It’s fine. Y’all are just next door. I’ll call you if I need anything. I promise.”

  I get pulled into a Troy and Landon sandwich. They hug me a beat or two longer than usual and then leave the apartment. I drop my purse, slip off my shoes, and take a few more minutes to muster enough courage to walk down the hallway to see what’s going on.

  I let the sounds of Radiohead’s “Talk Show Host” l
ead me down the hall to Finn’s bedroom. When I peek inside he doesn’t notice me, and with good reason.

  He’s leaning out of the window, cigarette in hand, bottle of Jameson resting at his feet. The smell of weed is mixed with the cigarette smoke. He’s got crumpled up pages from his sketch pad littering the floor all around him. The smell becomes too much for me, and I cough from the doorway. He’s pulled out of his trance by the sound and turns, startled.

  “Look at you in that light. You look like an aingeal from heaven, coming to rescue me.”

  His eyes are unfocused and red, making it obvious that he’s been at this for a while. I’m not sure what’s prompted this pity party, but I need to find out. I haven’t seen a glimpse of this Finn in a while. I didn’t realize the vast difference in the two of them until this very moment.

  “Come into the kitchen and let me get you something to eat,” I tell him, turning to go. I need to get him out of this room.

  “Please don’t move. I need to draw you, just like this. Stay right there for me.”

  He moves to grab some charcoal and his pad, knocking over the near empty bottle of whiskey in the process. Dabbing it with a discarded t-shirt, he gets back to the task at hand. He lights a fresh cigarette and just lets it dangle from his lips, his hands moving at a crazy speed. He sketches through several more grim songs, scattering ashes all over the floor, and I’m too scared to move and break his manic behavior. When he’s satisfied with the finished product, he tosses it aside and looks back to me.

  “Now, come here, I need to read my babies a story.”

  His accent is heavy and thick, making his words a bit slurred. I don’t want this right now. I want to go in my room and pretend that this isn’t going on, but I also want to know the cause of it.

  “How about something a little different,” I tell him, taking slow steps into the room. “How about you tell me what’s prompted all of this. What’s going on?”

  “That, Magpie, isn’t a very good story. I don’t think I want you to hear it,” he says, lighting a roach he picked up off the window sill. “I sure as fuck don’t want to tell it.”

  “I’m not gonna stay here and watch you do this shit. I’m going next door,” I tell him, turning to go. He’s on me before I can get back to the door.

  “Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry.” He’s clinging to me, pulling me back into the room. He leads me to his bed, sitting down first. He leans against the headboard, dragging me to his side.

  “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. I’ve got a lot of scenarios running through my head, and none of them are good. That trust you keep talking about is balancing on a very thin wire right now. You’re not being honest with me. You promised that you wouldn’t lie to me. I went to work today and you weren’t there. I need some answers Finn, or this is gonna go bad, really fast.”

  He nods, stroking my hair. “I didn’t lie to hurt you. I lied because I didn’t want you to see me like this.” He rests his cheek on the top of my head, and he’s so still that I’m afraid he’s passed out. “Are you ready to hear your bedtime story?”

  “Finn, I told you I want to hear-”

  “This story is not one I’ll be repeating, or ever speaking of again, so you need to listen carefully.”

  I move to sit up, but he puts his hand on my head and pushes me back down.

  “Settle, Magpie, and just listen. I’m not telling you this for any reason except for you to understand why I’ve been distant lately. Whenever this happens, I just need you to let me do what I need to do.”

  I nod so that he knows I get what he’s saying. I want to hear what he’s about to tell me. I just hope that I can handle whatever he’s about to give to me.

  “My parents had a beginning that was very similar to ours, Magpie. My Da was a struggling musician, desperate to make it on his own. My mother was traveling through Ireland on holiday from school. They met in a pub where he was playing, and he fell madly in love with her. It was fast and it was intense, just like us. They couldn’t get enough of each other.”

  My breath catches at his description. Love? I don’t know about that. Lust when we met? Sure. I don’t know if I would call what we shared anything close to love.

  “She had to go back to school but Da didn’t want to let her go. His musical talents were good, but they weren’t enough to sway her to stay. She left him in Ireland, but came back a few months later, revealing that she was pregnant. Da was ecstatic with the news. He begged my mother to marry him, but she wasn’t interested. She wanted to return to England and have me there, where she could still revel in the comforts of her parent’s money. What she didn’t know was that my Da had more money than she would ever be able to spend in her lifetime. Desperate to marry her, Da let her in on his family legacy. She quickly changed her tune, marrying my Da as soon as possible.”

  I look to Finn, sensing that this story is about to take a nose dive. He’s rubbing his hands up and down my belly, taking a break from his story, lost in his thoughts. I don’t want to break him from his trance. After a few minutes of woolgathering, he starts again.

  “My mother quickly learned that although Da had access to the O’Leary fortune, he was not fond of using it. He had no interest in carrying on the family’s businesses. He wanted to make his own way in the world. His mother, my Móraí, was fine with his decision. She encouraged him to pursue his musical dreams. She had her other son, Michael, to help with the businesses. He was also more than happy to spend her fortune.

  “As time went on, my mother grew more and more bitter about the marriage. My Da tried to make it work, but he couldn’t do anything to please her. She cared about money and nothing more. My father’s music grew in popularity so he was gone a lot, working gigs all around Ireland. My Uncle Michael grew in popularity with my mother.”

  “No,” I breathe out.

  He nods his head against mine and keeps talking. “I didn’t find it strange that he was always hanging around because he was my uncle. I didn’t think anything of it when he’d bring me toys and send me to my room or outside, or that he and my mother would disappear into her room and lock the door.”

  He gets off the bed and moves to the window, lighting another cigarette. I don’t protest.

  “My Uncle came over the night of my eighth birthday to bring me a gift and, of course, visit with my mother. While I was locked away in my room playing, I heard the familiar sound of my Da’s car pull into the driveway. He was supposed to have a gig that night. I never did find out what he was doing home. By the time I made it upstairs from my bedroom, the three of them were fighting. At the time I didn’t know what they were fighting about, but I realized later that he had caught my Uncle Michael and my Mother in bed together. He took off out of the house. That was the last time I ever saw my Da.”

  I get out of bed and make my way over to Finn. He’s leaning out of the window, tears in his eyes, sorrow dancing across his face.

  “What happened, Finn?” I ask, putting a gentle hand on his thigh.

  “He lost control of his car and wrapped it around a tree.”

  “My God, I’m so sorry,” I exhale, heavy emotion in my voice. I know how hard the loss of a father is. I can’t imagine losing one at such a young age.

  He laughs. “My gold digging whore of a mother and my uncle got exactly what they wanted. They were free to be together. Now Mother Dearest could marry the right brother and have access to all the money she could ever want.” He stops and shakes his head. “Too bad Móraí didn’t agree. When she found out about the two of them, she cut all ties with Michael, except when it came to me. They took me and moved to England, pulling me away from the only person left in the world that truly loved me. We ended up moving to New York shortly after, one big happy, fucked up family. I went back to Ireland each summer to stay with Móraí, but they never returned.”

  “Are they still in New York?”

  “I’ve no clue. I haven’t spoken to either of them since I left the house aft
er high school. I want nothing to do with either one of them. They killed my Da. They are dead to me, as well.”

  He throws his cigarette out the window and turns to me. His eyes are tormented, full of sorrow and sadness. It’s hurting me to see him like this. I can’t even begin to imagine how he must have felt growing up, being raised in a situation like that.

  “See, it’s my birthday today, Magpie. The worst day of the year for me. Perhaps you could make it better? Make it a happy day. Could you do that for me? Could you give me what I want?”

  His thumb is rubbing against my bottom lip, causing my mouth to fall open. He’s close enough to kiss me, but doesn’t close the gap.

  “I want you, Maggie. Can I have you?”

  “Yes,” I breathe out, moving closer so that he’ll kiss me, but he stops my movements.

  “No. I want more of you than just this,” he says, tugging my lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I want to own you completely like you own me. I want to know that you are only for me. That you love me in the way that I love you.”

  “Irish,” I start, but don’t really know what I’m trying to say.

  “Hush,” he says, putting pressure on my mouth with his thumb, forcing me to stop talking. “I don’t know if love is the right way to describe this. I think it’s more. I’ve had the love of two people, my Da and Móraí, but that doesn’t even come close to this.” He moves his hands into my hair, grabbing it to make sure my eyes stay on his. “You came storming into my life. You are like Na Sidhe, the old Irish fairies.”

  I laugh at his description, but he stops my laughter with a hard, firm kiss. “You mistake my meaning, Maggie. These are not the fairies you know. Na Sidhe were a strong force of nature, a phenomenon that swept through the lands, changing it in unexpected ways. You’ve stormed into my life, changing me in the most dramatic of ways, with no explanation. What else could this be but the work of magic and love?”

  I close the space between us and pour everything I’m feeling into a kiss. I feel like it’s the most important kiss of my life. We cling to each other like our lives are dependent on this one kiss. When we pull away, our eyes are both shimmering with unshed emotion.