My throat is thick and tight, making it hard to speak. “Nothing in my life has ever come close to this, Irish. You are everything to me. You don’t need to ask for more of me, I have nothing more to give you. I’ve given you every single piece of me already. I love you. I’ve loved you longer than I was able to admit.”
“Let me make love to you, Magpie. I need to be inside of you.”
I grab his hand and lead him to the bed. Standing next to it, our mouths consume each other as our hands peel the clothing off our bodies. We climb into bed, our lips breaking contact just long enough for our bodies to settle. Our kisses become slow and lazy. There is no rush tonight. Finn and I take our time exploring each other, kissing each other, touching each other.
When we can’t take the divine torture any longer, Finn moves me to sit up against the headboard and settles between my knees. One more lazy kiss, and he pushes inside of me. I gasp at the sensation of being filled with Finn again.
“I love you, Magpie. So much it hurts me. I will spend every day for the rest of my life showing you just how much.”
“I love you, too.”
Before the words have time to settle in the air, we are both coming. Eyes locked on one another, we moan through the sensations taking over our bodies. We clutch to each other and ride it out, bodies rigid and taunt.
Finn rolls us to our sides when we are both replete from the beautiful orgasm, running his hands up and down my side, peppering my face with tiny kisses. My eyes are closed, wanting to memorize this moment.
“Listen, Maggie,” he says, tapping on my side so I open my eyes.
I can hear Stateless’ acoustic version of “Bloodstream” playing softly in the room.
“This is you. Every time I hear this song you drift through my mind. Always, since that very first time we were together. Táim i ngrá leat.” I pull my head up when I hear him mutter the phrase from yesterday, my eyes curious. “I am in love with you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You just couldn’t wait to run over here and tell these two about last night, could you?” Finn says from behind me, grabbing my coffee cup from my raised hand and stealing a swig.
I’m sitting on Troy and Landon’s front patio with them, enjoying a cup of coffee with my best friends before they head off to work for the day. I just came over to reassure them that everything was fine last night. I’m sure they were worried about me, but I couldn’t call them after what happened between me and Finn. Neither of us got very much sleep last night. We stayed up talking, making love, and trying to heal some of the hurt from years past. I got Finn to share some of the good memories of his dad. Hopefully that helped him try to move past some of the pain. I don’t think he has had anyone to talk about the good stuff with.
“Don’t you think it’s a little too early to be gossiping about confessions of love and amazing sex?” he continues, causing Troy and Landon to perk up a little more.
“Actually, Irish, I haven’t said anything of the sort. I just got over here a few minutes before you.”
“But, handsome, since you brought it up, do tell. I love confessions of love and amazing sex with my morning coffee,” Troy tells him, all while checking him out. “Pull up a chair and start talking.”
Finn’s inky hair is sticking up all over, his chest bare, his glorious arms providing us with some art to look at while we enjoy our caffeine. He’s wearing some low slung sweatpants that I want to pull off of him so I can have a repeat performance of last night.
“Maggie and I cleared the air about some things last night,” he says. “We’re official. That’s as far as the gossip is going this morning. I don’t kiss and tell.”
Landon laughs. “Official? Because the impending birth of the twins, new car, and shared residence weren’t official enough? I’m glad it’s all settled.”
Finn goes to grab my cup again, but I swat his hand away. “You know how I feel about my morning coffee, Irish. Go get your own. There’s still some inside.”
His eyes twinkle over my morning coffee reference before he gets up from the little bistro table. “I sure do. Tomorrow, let’s make sure we have coffee at home. Alone.”
Once he’s inside, Troy leans in close. “Spill it, doll. What was up with his elusiveness yesterday? I’m dying to know what that was about.”
I shrug, acting like it was no big deal. “It’s not my story to tell. I will say that it had nothing to do with me or with our relationship. It was family stuff. Finn and I are fine. We couldn’t be better.”
The door shuts, and I feel Finn press his lips into my exposed shoulder before he sits down. I can only assume he heard what I told Troy and that he is thankful that I didn’t share his story with them.
“What’s on the agenda today, Doll?” Landon asks.
“Doctor’s appointment this morning and then work this afternoon. That’s about all I do these days. Such is my glamorous life.”
“Wait until you’re elbows deep in diapers all day. Then we’ll talk about glamorous.”
Everything is great at the doctor’s appointment. Dr. Redmond assures us that the babies are growing right on track. She’s not thrilled about my blood pressure, but, for now, the medicines Dr. Newman prescribed are working their magic and keeping it under control. As long as everything stays good, I can stay off of bed rest and keep working at the shop with Finn.
As we’re leaving the hospital, Finn’s phone rings and his eyes light up when he sees the screen. He normally doesn’t take calls when we’re together, but he doesn’t hesitate to answer this one.
“Móraí,” he says, his tone reverent.
He pauses, listening to his grandmother intently before speaking again.
“Aye, we are just leaving an appointment. The babies are good. They are getting bigger and stronger with each passing day.” Another pause. “Of course.”
He hands me the phone. I look at it like it’s a snake, ready to strike. “What do you want me to do with that?” I whisper.
“Talk to Móraí,” he laughs. “She’s asking for you.”
“What do I say?”
I’m about to have a panic attack. I’m sweating and feeling a bit nauseous. I’m so freaking nervous over the thought of speaking to the woman he holds so much respect for.
“You probably won’t have to say much. She tends to do most of the talking. Here,” he says, shoving the phone into my ear.
I clear my throat. “Hello?” It barely comes out.
“You’ll have to speak up, éanín. I’m an old woman, and I despise talking on the phone. How are you?” Her voice is gruff, hard. Not what one imagines when picturing a little old grandmother. My own Maw Maw was certainly not like this.
“I’m doing great. How are you?”
“Fine, but I do not want to discuss me. I want to discuss you and Finnian. You are making my boy happy. I have not seen my Finnian this happy in a very long time. I like that. What I do not like, éanín, is that you are having these twins soon and the two of you are not married. You do not have his last name. This is unacceptable. You should be an O’Leary. When you are able to travel after the birth of the children, he will bring all of you to me, here in Loughrea.”
“Umm, alright.”
“Are you Catholic?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No ma’am. You will call me Móraí. We will be family soon. When you get to Loughrea, we will go see Father Collin, my priest. You and my Finnian will be married in the church that borders our family’s land. It is where all of the O’Leary’s have been married. This is the same church where I was married, the same church where my dear Finnian was baptized as a wee baby. We can baptize your children here, too. I will arrange it all for the two of you. You just have my Finnian buy the airfare. You bring your family. Yes?”
“Umm, alright?”
I think I just agreed to marry Finn and Móraí just planned my wedding.
“We will talk soon, éanín.”
The line goe
s dead. I hand the phone back to Finn, moving in slow motion, not quite sure what just happened.
He laughs at the expression on my face. I can only imagine what it looks like.
“Well, what did she say?”
I get the feeling he knows exactly what she said. I’m sure this has been discussed before, many times. A similar version of that exact conversation probably takes place every time Finn talks to Móraí. Call me crazy, but she seems a little persistent.
“What is ‘éanín’? That’s what she was calling me. Is that your other baby momma’s name?”
He smiles at my attempt to repeat the name I heard. “It means ‘little bird’. I guess I called you ‘Magpie’ to her and she decided she liked ‘éanín’ better. That can’t be the source of the look you’re wearing. Now, what did she tell you that has you looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“Well, she said that as soon as I pop these two kiddos out, you and I are taking a trip to Ireland to tie the knot. Oh, and don’t worry, my family can come, too. You’re footin’ the bill.”
He laughs. “Typical Móraí.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
He just nods and keeps walking.
Finn brings me to the shop, but instead of just dropping me off he comes in with me.
“I thought you were off today?” I ask.
I figured after last night he’d want to go home and crash, not hang out here on his day off. I know if I could, I’d be passed out in bed right now.
“I have an appointment with Judd. Check the books,” he says with a wink.
“An appointment?”
“Yeah.”
He’s taking off his shirt. I’m way too distracted to peel my eyes away to look at the appointments on the computer.
“I don’t think you have any room left for more ink, Irish.”
“I have a whole chest. I’m getting a new piece today.”
My chest is starting to get tight. We’ve had a conversation about this before, after one of the very first times we ever hooked up. I asked why he’s got full sleeves, but a bare chest and back. He told me that he hasn’t found anything important enough to mark that skin with. That he didn’t know what he’d ever find meaningful enough to put there, but he’d know as soon as the time was right.
“What are you getting?” I whisper.
He pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket, slowly unfolding it and pushing it in my direction. Immediately, I recognize the sketch as one of his. I’ve seen enough of them lying around the apartment to know when a drawing is a Finnian O’Leary original. My eyes blur as I look at the image and I look back at him. It’s the ultimate compliment. A warm sensation settles over my entire body.
“It’s beautiful. Are you sure you want to do this?”
He smiles, rubbing his thumb up and down my cheek. “I love you. This will be the one piece on my body that I’m most sure about, Magpie. I’ve wanted it since you shocked me with the news that you were carrying my child. This sketch has been done for a while, I’ve just had to make a slight revision,” he laughs, pointing to one small, but significant detail. “Last night, I decided I had to have it done right away. Will you come sit with me?”
“What about the front desk? I’m supposed to be working.”
“You’ll hear the phone or door. Judd’s station is close. We’ll leave his door open. Come sit with me. I need you close to me while I do this.”
How could I say no to that?
Finn stays in that chair, unmoving, for hours. I figured this would take a few different sittings, but he’s determined to have as much done of it today as he can. Judd tries to convince him otherwise, but he won’t hear of it. Every once in a while, I get a hand squeeze, or he opens his eyes and whispers something to me, letting me know that he’s still awake. I’m fascinated watching this new tattoo come to life on his skin.
“Alright, man, I’m done with you for the day. Let this skin calm down and I’ll do some more shading and detail work in a few weeks if you think it needs it. Go take a look and I’ll get you covered up.”
Finn gets up from the chair for the first time since he laid down hours ago and walks to the mirror mounted on the opposite wall. I walk over with him and stand just to the side of him, pulling in a breath. It looks perfect. The black and gray ink is harsh on his chest, but it looks like it belongs there, just as his other tattoos do.
A single branch starts at the bottom of Finn’s ribcage and wraps around it, stopping near his sternum. There’s a nest balancing on the top of the branch, made in stunning detail of twigs, hay, and sticks. If you know where to look, ‘Magpie’ is intertwined in the lower part of the nest, hidden in the midst of the woven pieces. Two tiny eggs are resting in the nest. I grin at his ‘slight revision’ to the original design, the addition of the second egg. Flying towards the nest is a Magpie, wings pulled back, feet outstretched, ready to land on the edge of the nest. She’s black and white, and looks shockingly realistic. The only color on the entire piece is the blue of her eyes. Judd matched the blue with the shade of my own. The color is an exact match.
I am flattered by this tribute. I don’t have the words to express the emotion running through my veins right now as I stand with Finn, staring at the homage to me and my babies that he’s inked on his skin.
“Now I’ll always have my family with me, Magpie, no matter where I am,” he says, turning away from the mirror and pulling me into his arms. “I can look at this and be reminded of my home.”
“This is the coolest thing that anyone has ever done for me, Irish. I love it. I love you. Let’s get out of here so I can show you how much.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finn: How are the cauliflower babies this AM?
Maggie: My back is on fire. Someone is kicking the hell out of me!
Finn: I just signed us up for Lamaze classes. We start tomorrow.
Maggie: WTF?!? Pretty sure these kids are getting cut out of me
Finn: Vaginal births are possible with twins
Maggie: Please don’t say vaginal births to me again
Finn: I didn’t say vaginal births-I typed it
Maggie: Irish…
Finn: We need to be prepared for anything
Maggie: I’m prepared to be unconscious. I’m not participating in the birth
Finn: 11 weeks to go. Lamaze tomorrow
Against my better judgment, I let Finn drag me to the Lamaze class at the hospital. I’m not having these babies by any means other than a C-section. I’ve had this talk with Dr. Redmond. She’s already scheduled a section for 38 weeks, so I don’t know why Finn’s insisting on going through this.
When we get to the hospital and walk through the doors of the room where Lamaze is, I can’t hold back the laughter that escapes. It looks like the Stepford Wives are all about to give birth and have all gathered in one spot with their husbands. There’s not a hair out of place on any of the perfectly groomed and polished pregnant women. They are all wearing the latest designer maternity garb, coupled with their trendy handbags and shoes. Their husbands are all either in their suits from work, or in their more casual country club wear, just having come from playing 18 holes.
And then there’s me and Finn. I’m wearing some yoga pants that are about one week away from being considered indecent, paired with an Ink Addiction shirt I took from the shop one day when I spilled my lunch down the front of my shirt. Top that all off with some trashy flip flops I squeezed my fat feet in because they are so swollen I can’t wear shoes. Nothing in my closet, including shoes, fits me anymore and I refuse to buy any more maternity clothes. I don’t really leave the apartment except to go to the shop, Momma’s, or Lucy and Bennett’s, so Finn’s t-shirts, yoga pants, and flip flops work just fine. At least my make-up and hair look good. Finn’s in his usual random band tee and some ripped up jeans, topped off with his tattoos and lip piercing. We are quite the sight.
My favorite part of the evening is when everyone has to go around t
he room and introduce themselves, tell the story of how they met, and reveal their birth plan. It’s like a Hallmark Channel movie in the room.
And then there’s me and Finn. He decides to speak for us.
“Let’s see. I’m Finn and this is Maggie. We both work at Ink Addiction, the tattoo shop over on State Street. We are having twins, but we don’t know the sex of the babies. We aren’t married yet, but we do live together. Maggie is twenty-seven weeks pregnant, so we’ve been together,” he pauses, looking at his watch, pretending to be deep in thought, “about twenty-eight weeks. We actually just made our relationship official the other day.”
I swear, you could hear a pin drop. I giggle, loving the looks of attempted shock on the botoxed faces around the room.
“Oh, and I forgot to mention our carefully thought out birth plan. Maggie would prefer to be unconscious during the birth of our children. She doesn’t do medical stuff and would like to be out cold during the whole messy ordeal. She doesn’t want to see a single second of our children being brought into the world. She’s just here to humor me.”
The instructor clears her throat, obviously rattled by our presence, and starts giving the overall agenda for the course and what to expect over the next several weeks. I’m not really paying attention. Like Finn told the class, I’m just here to humor him. That is, until she pops in a DVD of a birth. As soon as it starts playing on the big screen in the front of the room, I’m done.
“Finn, I can’t watch that. I’m about two point five seconds away from vomiting,” I tell him, my face buried in his chest. My voice rises as the moans of pain start. “Please, can you get me out of here?”
He just laughs and pulls me up from the yoga mat on the floor. “At least we can say we tried. How about pizza instead?”
More of You: The Home Series, Book Two Page 16
