“Is that a good idea with so much ibuprofen in your system—” I start to ask and stop as I see the look he shoots me. It won’t do me any good to make him more aggravated. “Never mind. Enjoy.”
“I will,” Connor says, shooting me an odd look before setting the bottle back down on the bar cart and moving to sit in the armchair across from me with his glass of whiskey. ”What are you doing over there?”
Now or never.“I booked us a getaway for next weekend. Just two days. Well, a little more than that with travel, but—”
Connor’s eyes narrow. “Agetaway? Why the fuck would you do that, Saoirse—”
“It’s like a—a babymoon,” I blurt out, and Connor looks at me as if I’ve lost my damn mind.
“Well, not exactly. I think a babymoon is usually parents’-to-be last vacation before theyhavethe baby, but anyway—” I stop rambling, seeing the expression on Connor’s face change, and not for the better. “You want me to get pregnant,” I say lamely. “Things are stressful here. We’re not exactly getting along. So I thought maybe—a couple days—somewhere romantic where we can’t be interrupted, where we can just focus on—”
“Fucking,” Connor supplies, his mouth twitching with amusement, and I flush.
“Well, I was trying to make it sound a little more romantic, but basically.”
“There’s nothingromanticabout our marriage, Saoirse,” he reminds me. “You know, the reason we didn’t go on a honeymoon wasn’t because I wanted to spite you or avoid you or whatever reason you might have come up with in your head. It was because I can’t exactly just fly off somewhere for a week, or even a weekend right now.” He shakes his head, looking frustrated. “I have business here, Saoirse, you know that. Important business. I’m on the brink of a war. I might have a spy, an arsonist even. Attempted murder of—who the fuck knows? Were they trying to kill me? Liam? All of us? Or did I just have the bad fucking luck to pick a building with ancient wiring?I don’t know,Saoirse, which means I can’t just fly off to—”
“Japan,” I tell him flatly. “I booked us a weekend at a romantic spa just outside of Tokyo. Connor, surely your men can handle things for a few days. After the fire, there won’t be another meeting so quickly. There’s plenty to do, yes, but Jacob is capable, and you want me pregnant, right? Uninterrupted, unstressed time could only help that—”
“You said Japan?” Connor interrupts, holding up a hand, and I blink at him.
“Yes.” I turn my laptop so he can see the photos. “There’s a private onsen, and—”
“Fine. I’ll go.” He tosses back the rest of the whiskey and stands up. “We leave—”
“Thursday late afternoon. My father is letting us use the jet.”
“Sounds good. I’m going back to sleep.” He sets the glass down on the bar cart and disappears without another word, leaving me staring after him in shock.
What the fuck just happened?
---
I almost think he’s trying to pull one over on me, that I’m going to go to the jet and he won’t be there. Connor isn’t exactly the joking type, but it’s hard to predict his moods lately. This past week he’s been quiet, sleeping through the first few days and then making his way back to the warehouse to inspect the damage with Jacob and the others, despite my insistence that he needs to rest longer.
We haven’t had sex in a week, not since he fucked me in the shower after the fire, and it feels strange. Not that I blame him or even think it has anything to do with me. I glimpsed him naked coming out of the shower a few days ago, and his body from shoulder to thigh was so mottled with black and purple bruises on one side that he looked like a Dalmatian. I don’t think anything could entice me to have sex either if I were that banged up. But after weeks of doing it every day, sometimes multiple times a day, it felt strange.
What feels even worse is that Iwanthim. Not just the pleasure of an orgasm, buthim. His touch, his sarcastic voice whispering filthy things in my ear, his body leaning into mine.Connorfilling me. I ache for it, my excitement over this trip entirely because I can’t wait to be alone with him, disconnected from everything else, with nothing to do but spend time with each other.
It won’t fix everything. Itcouldbe a fucking disaster. But I have hope that it might shift things. It might give Connor and me a window into the possibility of a different kind of relationship.
I haven’t seen Niall since the fire, mostly because I don’t know what to say. He’s texted me asking me to come over, and my excuse was that I needed to be home with Connor so hurt. It’s not a lie—and I shouldn’t feel bad for it. I’ve been clear with Niall that my responsibility is first and foremost to Connor. But there’s still lingering guilt because I know I’m avoiding him. I don’t know how to respond toI love you. Not when I can’t say it back yet. Not when that was the last thing he wanted to say when he thought he might die.
His possible last thoughts were of me. I can’t ever give him that kind of love, even if I were to fall in love with him. It doesn’t seem fair. But then I think of Maggie and her telling me that I can’t make Niall’s decisions for him.
My thoughts feel as if they’re running a hundred miles a minute as I wait for Connor on the tarmac. As I glance at the rose gold and leather watch on my wrist and see that he’s running this side of fifteen minutes late, I’m more and more worried that he’s not going to show. That I’m being stood up by my own husband.
At last, I see his car coming towards me. I wave to him quickly as the town car comes to a stop, trying not to look too enthusiastic as I see him unfold his tall, muscular body from the passenger door, a large leather duffel in one hand.
“I thought you might not come,” I tell him with a laugh, as if it wouldn’t have mattered, as if I haven’t been sitting here for thirty minutes with my heart in my throat. “You’re late.”
“Business,” Connor says with a brief smile, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “You look nice.”
“Really?” I’m surprised by the compliment. I’m not wearing anything special, just a sage green tank dress that comes to mid-thigh, made of a soft material that will be comfortable to fly in and with built-in support, so I don’t have to wear a bra, with my hair in a high ponytail. There’s a black cashmere cardigan in my bag, just in case the jet is cold.
“Lovely,” Connor affirms, taking my hand. I see his eyes flick to my breasts as if he can tell that there’s nothing under the top of my dress. “Let’s go on our babymoon, shall we?”
“That word sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth,” I tell him frankly as we board the jet, but inside I feel as if I’m starting to glow faintly. He’s being nicer and more attentive than he’s been in weeks, and I can’t help but wonder if that means he’s trying, too.Could he be making an attempt at mending things between us? Testing the waters of a real relationship, too?He’d gone from completely against the idea of the trip to agreeing to go in a split second, which I found odd, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.