“I’m just tired,” she whispered. Her head rolled on the pillow, her hair spilling over it like wine from a glass, and I realized she was looking for me.
My heart leapt because, when she saw me, she released a shaky breath—relief had the frown on her brow unfurling. I strode over to her and grabbed her hand, then ducked down and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. The IV infusion was there, and I wanted to punch the dude who’d stained her skin with a shit ton of bruises—they never seemed to be able to find a line. I’d watched them stick her so many times, I’d wanted to throttle them.
Her knuckles scratched my jaw and, not wanting to disconnect from her, I kicked out with my foot and hooked the armchair behind me. Sitting back in it, I pressed my face into her hand.
“You aren’t shaving.”
Eoghan snorted. “Your powers of observation are coming in leaps and bounds, Aoife. All this sleep is serving you well.”
She huffed at him, then studied me again. “Have you showered?”
“Can’t you smell him? Christ. We need the doctor back in here if you can’t.”
“Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?”
I choked a little. Wanting nothing more at that moment than to climb into bed beside her. Fuck the shower. Fuck the goddamn world. “I’ll go clean up when I know you won’t wake up without me being here.”
She was silent a second, then she murmured, “Oh.”
Eoghan shot us both a look, and I could tell he didn’t understand.
Why would he?
Though I kept expecting her to wake up with loathing in her eyes, the minute she was awake, she wanted to see me. I’d watched her pulse speed up on the monitor then had seen it start to slow the second she found me with her gaze. My voice wasn’t enough. Sight was the only thing that calmed her.
I wasn’t about to complain. Not when she should be asking for a lawyer to demand an annulment.
Christ, would any judge in the land refuse her?
Nausea swirled inside me at the thought, and I pressed another kiss to her fingers.
Eoghan grunted. “That means we have to put up with his stench a while longer, hmm?” Then, he snickered. “Dear God, Aoife, get better soon, yeah?”
Her lips curved—I didn’t have to look up to hear it in her voice. “For your sensibilities, I will, Eoghan.”
“That’s an Irish woman for you. So accommodating.”
She hooted softly. “Which Irish women do you know?”
“Well, they’re always accommodating to me,” he purred, and I raised my head to spear him with a glower.
“You’re not flirting with my wife, are you,dearthàir?”
He grinned at me unashamedly. “She’s too beautiful not to.”
When Aoife giggled, I didn’t snap at him, just rolled my eyes. It was good to hear her laugh, and for some reason, she found my brothers amusing.
Yeah.Funny-haha, not funny-strange, either. The latter being substantially truer.
I’d seen her talk to them several times on her own at Sunday lunch at their folks’ home, and had monitored how she’d settled in. I still wasn’t sure how that was possible, just knew she’d relaxed around them. Had started to build a rapport with five of the most dangerous men in Hell’s Kitchen, Manhattan.
Aoife had been raised in Five Points’ territory though, so I knew she’d been taught by her mother to always placate our men. Her relaxing around them didn’t gel with that, which made me think she genuinely liked them.
I mean, it wasn’t too crazy a concept.Iliked them, but I’d been raised with them. I knew them before they’d become the generals in the Irish Mob. Fuck, before I’d become one myself.
“Are you hungry?” I asked her, praying she’d say yes.
Her nose wrinkled. “No.”