His eyes bore into my face. “One of my many talents,” he teases right back.
I take a deep breath. “I’ve felt alone my whole life, Cillian.”
I’m turning myself inside out for him. Regret doesn’t even cross my mind, because something tells me I’ll never regret baring my soul.
Not to him.
“I never thought I’d have anyone to rely on,” I continue. “But these last couple of hours with you… It’s made me think things could be different.”
“They can be.”
“I haven’t felt alone for a second tonight.”
“That’s because you’ve got me now,” he says gently. “Now and always.”
He says it so casually, that I have to ask the question burning me up. “Do you mean that?”
He raises his eyebrows.
I smile, knowing what he’s going to say. “Right,” I interject. “You don’t lie.”
“I don’t,” he replies with a firm shake of the head. “And I would never lie about this. About you.”
“This is insane, though,” I breathe. “You and me.”
“Maybe,” he says with a shrug. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.”
I shake my head at him and press my lips to his. When I pull away, I keep my eyes on him. “You really are a poet.”
“Another one of my many talents.”
I chuckle and press my forehead to his chest for a moment.
“Cillian?”
“Hmm?”
“I have to go back,” I say, raising my eyes to his. “My father needs me. But…”
“But?”
“But I want my freedom, too,” I tell him. “One day, I want to be free from my fucked-up life.”
“Saoirse,” Cillian murmurs, “why else do you think I’m here?”