Just as we enter, my senses start to clear and I pull my hand away. "I said I'm not having sex with you."
"You will," he says confidently. "But I need to get your forgiveness first."
I want to smile over those words, because that right there is the arrogant Cillian that I love. Correction... loved. I have decided to move past him.
My bedroom is how it normally looks. The inflatable mattress resting up against the wall, a small alarm clock on the carpet beside it. The sheets and blanket are all rumpled, because I think it's stupid to make up an inflatable bed each day. Just doesn't seem right.
Then I see that his guitar is lying on the floor beside the bed. I cock an eyebrow at him. "Let me guess... you're a musician... so you wrote me a song that's supposed to melt my heart and convince me to give you another chance."
I can tell by the sheepish look on his face that I've hit the nail on the head. And it's with wonder that I see a small stain of color on Cillian's cheeks. Well, miracles never cease. The man that practically made an art form out of causing me to blush seems to be embarrassed over something.
"Well, yeah," he says, his voice unsure for the first time. "But if you don't want to hear it, we can just talk."
My voice finds a hardness I didn't know I possessed. "Song... talk... none of it matters. None of it will make a difference."
I stare at him and watch an amazing change come over his face.
First, the remnants of his uncertainty lingers. Then his eyes change... they start to shimmer with something that looks like wonder, then morphs into blazing realization. His face relaxes and then I'm staring into conviction.
It seems Cillian's momentary lapse is over, and standing before me is the man that goes after what he wants.
"Bollocks... it matters and you know it does. Now sit your pretty ass down on that bed and let me play my song for you."
For a moment, I don't move, because I'm paralyzed by the thrill of pleasure that courses up my spine over his words. It takes me back to Dublin, where Cillian commanded and controlled me. I realize I miss that feeling.
"Sit, Renner, or I'll skip right to the make-up sex part... and you know you won't resist that."
God help me, but he's right. I don't have the power to resist Cillian's sexual charm and he knows it. So I sit, and decide to make him work for it.
Grabbing his guitar out of its case, he sits down on the edge of the bed opposite of me. He looks ridiculous, his big body trying to sit on the flimsy inflatable mattress. He has to fold one leg under, and prop the other one out on the floor to balance himself, but he doesn't let any of that throw him off course, his confidence not in the least shaken. This is a man, after all, that is used to performing under the most stressful of circumstances.
I watch as his long fingers tune the instrument, and then he looks up at me as he starts to play.
The music he creates is soft and slow. His gaze on me is equally soft and it pulls at something so deep in me, I can't hold his stare. I opt to watch his fingers as they pick at the strings.
Then he starts singing.
My world was filled with shadows,
Gray hazy light,
Existing... only existing,
Strapped down in the night.
This beautiful girl,
Filled with light,
I'm wondering why I'm only existing,
Existing.
She comes along and suddenly,
Everything is right.
She hangs the moon,
For as far as I can see,
And I'm no longer just existing...
Existing.
My beautiful girl...
There's a catch in his throat and his lyrics trail off. He continues picking at the guitar, keeping the melody alive. I sneak a glance up at him and his eyes are closed while he continues to hum. He takes a deep breath and continues.
My beautiful girl, I let her get away,
And I'm no longer existing...
Existing.
She took all that was good,
And gray hazy light... is existing,
Existing.
So I decide to find my way out of the night, So I'm no longer just existing,
Existing.
I find my way back to my girl,
Asking her to let me hold her tight,
And together we'll be existing,
Existing.
Existing in the light.
Yeah, we'll be together... and existing, Existing,
In the light.
He continues to pick out one more chorus, humming softly, his eyes still closed. Then he ends the song with a single strum down the strings and the music fades away. He opens his eyes slowly. They are slightly vacant, which tells me he was lost in the song. Then they focus back on me, pinning me in place.
I swallow hard, because that was perhaps the most beautiful thing I've ever seen or heard in my entire life. He wrote a song about me... about him... about us. And it told me all of the things I had longed for him to say back in Dublin.
"That's beautiful," I say, my voice soft with wonder. "Will you record it?"
He shakes his head. "That song isn't for anyone's ears but yours."
Tears prick at my eyes, blown away by the fact that he created a piece of art just for me.
"That's not all I have," he says, sitting the guitar aside. He stands up and goes back to his guitar case. I watch as he pulls out a stack of papers and walks back to the bed. Rather than sitting across from me, he flops his body casually down and lies on his side facing me.
Cillian hands me the papers silently and I take them with curiosity. Flipping through them, I see they are printouts of various houses for sale. There's a pretty color picture of each one. All of the specs are laid out...square footage, dimensions, and amenities. I note some are in New Jersey, and some are in Ireland.
I
don't understand any of it so I raise my eyes to his.
"Renner... I want to be your ideal man. I want to give you all the things you want. I want to buy you a house, with a white picket fence. And if it doesn't have one, I want to build one for you. I don't care if we live here or in Ireland. I want to pick out a Golden Retriever puppy with you and one day I want to give you little red-haired children to run around in the yard. I want to be the guy that comes home at night to get the kiss on the cheek from you. I want to be the one in your bed that you wake up to every morning. I just want...to be with you and I'll give you whatever you need to make it happen."
I think back to all the times I had envisioned this dream of mine. It was a dream that had died at one point, never thinking it would be in my reach. Never thinking that in my dream, instead of the businessman in a three-piece suit, it would be an Irish rocker in jeans and a t-shirt that would be coming home to me every night. But I can see it... I think I can see it now.
Laying the papers down on the bed, I look to him. He raises a hand up to me and strokes my cheek. The touch is almost too much to endure it feels so good. "Cillian... all of this... it's incredible. You've touched me in a way I didn't think was ever possible. You're offering me all I ever wanted. But..."
How do I say this? How do I lay out another ultimatum that will probably have him running back for the door?
"...but, I can't be with you when you have so much turmoil going on in your life right now. There are things about Maeve... that I didn't tell you. It just makes it impossible for me to be a part of your life right now."
"I know all about Maeve," he says. "I know about her lies."
"You do?"
"Cady told me. You should have told me," he says with a little bit of admonishment.
But before I can even respond, he continues, "But it doesn't matter if you told me or not. I should have never let you go. I should have chosen you. In hindsight, I realize now that there are a million ways I could have helped Maeve that would have never caused you a minute of pain. I handled it badly, and that's what I need your forgiveness for."
My head is swimming with this information. "What happened to Maeve?"
A hard look comes over his face. "She's gone."
"Gone?"