She’s probably thought herself out of all the progress we’d made last night. The fragile truce we managed to find seems to be teetering on a knife’s edge, in danger of falling off one side or the other.
“Did you do this?” I ask, pointing to the sand at my feet.
She doesn’t even glance down.
“I woke up early,” she replies with a shrug that’s half-nonchalant, half-embarrassed. “And… I like to draw.”
“Well, goddamn,” I say. “It’s amazing. Really, insanely beautiful. And not just the model—the artwork is really nice, too.”
She can’t help laughing at that one. “You sure I deserve any of the credit?”
“I mean, clearly, my classical good looks did half the work for you,” I joke. “But come on… you’re an artist.”
“No, I’m not,” she says immediately. Her tone is clipped, almost defensive.
I grit my teeth. “Let me guess: that fucker you’re married to told you that you weren’t good enough.”
She looks up in surprise, giving herself away at once.
“Come on,” she says instead of responding to my guess. “We need to get back to the car. Find a way back to the city.”
“Saoirse.”
“What, Cillian?” she hisses impatiently. “It’s just a drawing. No big deal.”
I ignore that. “How often do you draw?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes. Not often.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have the time.”
“You need to make time.”
“To draw pictures?” she asks incredulously. “I’m not a child anymore. I don’t have the luxury of wasting the day away with doodling.”
“And what makes you think this is a waste?”
I’m suddenly furious. Furious at how trapped she seems. At how much she seems to hate herself.
Like enjoying life for even a moment is a sin, a mistake, a vulnerability.
I’m sizzling with rage, fuming fucking mad at how little she believes she deserves.
And I’m not even thinking about the fucker she’s married to.
It feels like she’s trapped herself. She’s imprisoned behind bars of her own making, the voice inside her head telling her she’s not good enough.
Not strong enough.
Not brave enough.
“He’s broken you,” I say without thinking.
Her blue eyes flash with anger. That little peace we found? It just fell off the edge.
And broke into a million little shards.