“Do ye t’ink anyone else saw it?”
“Only Kevie.”
“Well, dat’s alright den.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I felt like a fuckin’ idiot up dere, sweatin’ like a pig.”
“Well, you didn’t look like an idiot.”
“Good t’ing no one was lookin’ at me once ye arrived,” he teased.
I smiled at him happily as he watched the road, and I couldn’t believe my incredible luck. We were almost to Peg’s when Patrick turned onto a street that was vaguely familiar. When he stopped the car and put it in park, I looked at him in surprise.
“Were you hoping for a game of basketball? I’m sorry, I didn’t bring one with me. Couldn’t fit it under the dress.”
“If ye were tryin’ to hide a basketball under yer dress we’d have quite a bit of explainin’ to do,” he answered, laughing as he pulled at his tie. “Christ, I can’t get dis fuckin’ button undone. It’s too tight.”
“Here, I’ll do it,” I offered, leaning toward him to slip my fingers underneath the fabric below his Adam’s apple. “Good Lord, how could you even breathe?”
“Don’t t’ink I took a breath until I saw ye.”
“Aw.”
“Shut it.”
I wrestled with the button for a minute before it broke free, then ran my fingers over his poor neck. There were indentations where the collar had pinched at his flesh.
“Why the hell did you button it if it was so tight?” I scolded.
“Married less den an hour and she’s already naggin’.”
“We’re married,” I whispered, my lips curving into a grin.
“We are.”
He lifted his hands to grip my head and then his lips were on mine. I moaned as he slid his tongue into my mouth, then relaxed my neck until he was completely supporting the weight of my head in his hands.
“I wanted to do dis de first second I saw ye,” he said as he ran his lips across my jaw. “Standin’ next to ye and not bein’ able to touch ye was torture.”
“I know, the ceremony went on forever,” I complained.
“But de end was wort’ it.”
“You’re mine now.”
“Not yet.” He chuckled darkly. “But later I will be.”
I shuddered as his lips sucked gently on my neck. My nipples pebbled beneath my gown and I felt myself grow wet, the sensation reminding me of the mishap in the shower earlier.
“We have to get back to your mom’s,” I reminded him breathlessly as he worked his way back toward my mouth. “Everyone’s waiting.” His mouth met mine again, the kiss slow and surprisingly gentle, before pulling away.
“Why do dey have a party after de weddin’? Seems like an awful way to start married life, surrounded by people ye have to entertain instead of fuckin’ like rabbits.”
“You’re so romantic.”
“I am romantic,” he replied immediately, offended. “I write ye fuckin’ love notes.”
“Oh, is that what they were?” I teased as he turned the car back on and backed out of the empty lot.
“Yes, dat’s what dey were. I wrote ye poems!”
“You copied other people’s poems.”
“I’m a scholar, not a writer. Ye’d not want any poems I’d attempted to write.”
“Oh, so you’ve tried before? Did you send other girls your poor attempts at poetry?”
The guests had been kind enough to leave an empty space to park right in front of the house, and after Patrick had pulled in and parked, he turned to me, his expression serious.
“I’ve not written anyone letters but me mum. Ever. Except ye.”
“Why not?” I called as he climbed out of the car without another word, moving to my door to help me climb out.
“Because dey weren’t de woman I was goin’ to marry,” he answered, then kissed me quickly, sliding his tongue against mine only once before grabbing my hand. “Now let’s go celebrate for a while, so we can leave and celebrate on our own later.”
The reception was fun, even though I was anxious to get Patrick alone. Peg grabbed me as we’d walked through the door, and spent hours introducing me to everyone who’d come to see us, from the couple who owned the grocery store Peg managed, to neighbors who’d moved away years previously. It was odd seeing Peg and Patrick interact comfortably with so many people, and it reminded me of how isolated we’d been.
Patrick took off to the corner of the yard as soon as Peg pulled me away, and he met my eyes a few times as I mingled, but we didn’t have the chance to connect more than that. There were so many people in Peg’s house and back yard that it was hard to even move from one place to another without having to stop and chat.
When I finally made my way back to him, I hesitated a few feet away. It was like looking at a person I’d never seen before.
At some point he had changed out of his white dress shirt and into a greyish green one, his tie gone, the button at his throat undone and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked far more comfortable than he had earlier, and as handsome as ever, but there was something just slightly off. His cheeks were rosier than usual and he was smiling huge as he gestured wildly with one hand, the other clutched around the neck of a beer bottle. I couldn’t help but smile when he laughed loudly, but before I could step forward, I watched him brace his arm against the wall beside him.
For a moment, I couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering me. Then I realized with sudden clarity that my brand new husband was well on his way to being completely drunk.
I was happy that he was having such a good time. I was. But I felt a lump grow in my throat as he continued to laugh with his friends, nodding in thanks when one of them handed him another beer. I knew it was completely selfish, but I wanted him to be dying to get me away. I didn’t want him having fun with his friends like he was out at a pub—I wanted him to be as anxious as I was to finally get away from prying eyes and into a bed.
I stood there dumbly, watching them laugh and poke fun at each other, until finally one of the guys noticed me and nodded in my direction. Patrick turned to face me with that same wide smile, before he started strolling toward me.
“Me beautiful, lovely, gorgeous wife!” he greeted loudly, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Hey. Having fun?” I tried to match his happiness, but I must not have succeeded because his lips lost their curve as he looked at me.
“I’m havin’ a grand time,” he answered cautiously. “Aren’t ye?”
“Of course. Peg’s been introducing me for the past two hours to people I’ll probably never see again, my feet are killing me because of these stupid shoes, I’m hungry, but every time I make it to the kitchen I get stopped by someone and I don’t get the chance to eat, I haven’t even spoken to you since we got here, and now you’re drunk, and if I’m feeling what I think I’m feeling, you just spilled beer down the back of my wedding dress.” My voice never lost its cheerfulness as I spoke, but his brows drew together as if he was trying to decide if I was joking. “I’m having an awesome time.”
I reached behind me to find his hand, and took the bottle from his fingers before he could do any more damage. “I’m going to find your mom to see if she can get me out of this dress.”
“Wait,” he ordered, pulling me back against him. “I wanted to take it off ye.”
I sighed, looking around the yard as people watched us. “I don’t think you’d even be able to at this point, Patrick,” I told him quietly.
“Dat’s a load of shite.” His fingers wound into my hair, pulling it tight as his hand reached my scalp. “I’ve had a few, but I’m not tanked.”
“It’s okay. Really. I’m just going to go see if your mom can help me. I’m really uncomfortable in this dress.”
“I told ye I want to take it off of ye.”
He leaned down and kissed me hard, sliding his tongue into my mouth with little finesse. His technique didn’t matter in the slightest to my body,
though. The minute his lips closed over mine, I relaxed into him. He’d been smoking not long before and the yeasty taste of the beer he’d been drinking mixed with the subtle taste of tobacco, the combination setting me on fire. I didn’t even notice the yelling and whistling until Patrick started to sway my way and I was suddenly holding him up instead of the other way around.
“Patrick,” I called, pulling my mouth away as he tried to right himself.
“Ye make me head spin,” he informed me with a lopsided smile. “Would ye like to come meet de lads? I want to show off me gorgeous wife.”
My heart sunk as I realized he hadn’t heard a word I’d said, but I smiled anyway. “Sure. Give me a couple minutes, okay? I’m going to find your mom real quick.”
“Alright, me love.” He kissed me tenderly on the forehead then grabbed his beer from my hand and spun from me to saunter away.
How could I be mad when he was having so much fun? He was an adorable drunk, and the way he usually looked at me seemed to be magnified with alcohol, turning it from loving to almost worshipful. No, I wasn’t mad, not really.
I was just overwhelmingly disappointed and hurt.
Rubbing my left hand over the top of my right one, I searched the crowd for Peg, but couldn’t see her so I headed for the back door. When I got there, I realized that people had started clearing out, and there were only a few stragglers left inside the house. Too bad the people in the yard seemed like they’d be staying a while.
My hands began to burn as I knocked on Peg’s door, and I looked down to see a few small welts appearing as she opened it up. I couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down my cheeks.
“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” she asked, pulling me inside and closing the door. “ I was just changing into something a bit less fancy so I could start cleaning up.”
“Could you help me change?” I asked quietly.
“Well, didn’t ye want—”
“I want to change now,” I interrupted. “This dress is starting to feel really heavy and my feet hurt… I just want to get it off.”
“Well, okay then.” She opened up the door and marched through the living room while I followed behind her, and soon we were in my room.
“Turn around so I can get to those buttons.”
A few more tears rolled down my face while she painstakingly unbuttoned every small button down my back, and I tried not to remember how I’d imagined hearing a ripping sound as Patrick lost patience with the small pieces of plastic and fabric. I’d giggled when I’d tried the dress on, imagining Patrick’s frustration.
“Well, if I’d known I’d be the one doin’ this, I would have advised ye to get the gown with the zipper,” Peg commented with a huff, causing me to snort.
“If you just do a few more, I can get it off my hips.”
“Okay, give me one more minute… there, see if that will work.”
I brushed the sleeves off my shoulders and watched silently as the dress gaped in front and then slowly started to sag. Then, I clenched my jaw and shoved the bodice down over my hips until it billowed on the floor around me. I stepped out and sat on the bed, silently unbuckling my shoes and rubbing my sore feet.
Peg moved to the door, turning when I finally spoke.
“Would it be really rude if I stayed in here for a while?” I asked. “I’m getting a headache.”
She searched my eyes before nodding twice. “That’s fine, dear. Ye lie down for a bit. The only people left are too drunk to care where the guest of honor is.”
Once she was gone, I took off the fancy, light blue bra I’d bought for my wedding night and slipped on a pair of Patrick’s sweats and a large flannel shirt that was tucked into the bag he’d dropped off the night before. They smelled like him, and I pulled my head into the neck of the shirt like a turtle so I could take a huge whiff. It was the best scent in the world.
I crawled under the sheets that I hadn’t thought I’d be sleeping in, and it didn’t take me long before I was falling asleep with tears dripping occasionally off my face.
What a horrendous wedding night—the sun hadn’t even gone down and I was in bed alone.
Chapter 22
Amy
I woke up later to the familiar feeling of Patrick sitting down on the edge of the bed, but I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to see him. The memory of the reception was vivid in my mind, and I absently realized that my hands felt better, which meant the welts had gone away.
“I know yer awake.”
“I’m surprised you are,” I replied, opening my eyes.
He was hunched over, facing slightly away from me, looking down at his hands that were running along the satin of my discarded bra. He was still wearing what he’d had on before, but his hair looked as if he’d been running his hands through it, and the goofy smile was gone.
“I’m sorry,” he said, finally raising his face so he could meet my eyes. “De lads were handin’ me drinks, and I hadn’t seen dem in a long time between bein’ away for school and spendin’ all of me time wit’ ye... I lost track of time and how much I’d had.”
“Is this how it’s always going to be?” I asked quietly. “Me standing on the edges while you just go off and do whatever with your friends?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t know any of those people, Patrick.”
“I didn’t t’ink.”
“It’s our wedding day. Or it was…”
“Still is. It’s about ten o’clock.”
“You ignored me on our wedding day.” The words came out garbled as I tried to speak around the lump in my throat.
“Aw, love. Don’t do dat. Don’t cry.”
He dropped my bra as he stood, and I watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from his trousers before tearing it off. Next came his shoes and socks, and then finally he was unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down his thighs until they dropped to the floor with everything else.
I let him pull the blankets back and crawl in beside me, and it was a tight fit in the tiny bed as we lay facing each other.
“What de hell are ye wearin’?”
“I didn’t think I’d have company.”
“Christ, how are ye not sweatin’ yer arse off?”
He reached under the blankets between us, and shoved down on my sweats, tearing them off my legs before tossing them behind him.
“What are you doing?”
“I know yer angry. I’m not tryin’ to fuck ye,” he answered in disgust.
“Then what are you trying to do?” I asked as he leaned over me and unbuttoned my shirt.
“I just need to feel ye.” He spread the sides of the flannel wide, then smoothed his hands down my sides. “It’s been so long since I felt yer smooth skin.”
“How did you know I was in here?” I asked as he lay down on his back and pulled my body against his side.
“Did ye t’ink I wouldn’t notice dat me brand new wife went missin’?”
“You seemed busy.”
“I wasn’t.” His arm tightened around my back.
“I bet your mom told you.”
“She did.”
“Did she give you hell?”
“I t’ought she was goin’ to stab me in front of all dose witnesses.”
“Good.”
“Ye can’t go askin’ me mum to fight yer battles.” He reached out to tip my chin toward him. “She’s got no place in dis marriage.”
I stiffened against him, pulling my face from his hand—angry and hurt all over again.
“I didn’t ask your mother to say anything to you,” I snapped back, pushing against his chest so I could sit up to and wrap the flannel back around me. “Someone had to get me out of that fucking dress!”
“I told ye I wanted to take ye out of it. I’ve been fantasizin’ about dat very t’ing since ye stepped into de fuckin’ church!”
“Then maybe you should have listened when I said I was tired! Maybe you should have stopped for one second to
think about me, your wife! Instead, you went back to drinking with your friends.” I choked back an angry sob. “Maybe if I hadn’t felt like a leper when my hands started to break out, I could have stayed outside and you could have helped me with my dress!”
We were screaming at each other, and it was absolutely heartbreaking because it was the last thing I wanted to be doing. What had I done? Why had I married this man I barely knew? Where was the Patrick I loved? Why was I in bed with this stranger?
I tried to climb over him, but he was up and tossing me back onto the bed before I could get anywhere. Our chests were heaving, and I wanted nothing more than to lock myself away from everyone and cry my eyes out.
“I hated not bein’ near ye,” he said, pinning my legs with his and bracing his elbows near my head. He reached down to grab my wrist and pulled it between us, inspecting my hand before letting go and doing the same thing with the other one. When he was finished, he kissed it before placing it against his heart. “It felt as if I was comin’ out of me skin when Mum pulled ye off to introduce ye to people. But at de same time, de closer we were, de harder it was to stop meself from kickin’ every one of dose people out of de fuckin’ house. I’m dyin’ for ye. I’ve been dyin’ for ye for mont's, and once I knew I could have ye, it was torture not to do so.” He leaned his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. “I was just tryin’ to distract meself wit’ de lads. Dat’s all it was. Just until it was over and I could have ye to meself.”
“You hurt my feelings.”
“I’ll try not to do it again,” he said earnestly, ghosting a kiss over my lips.
There was my Patrick.
“You looked so handsome today,” I whispered, lifting my hands to his face. “I’m sorry I threw such a fit.”
“I was an arse.”
“You were, but you’re not now.”
“Forgive me? I’ll make it up to ye.”
“Just don’t go out for a smoke or something and leave me giving birth on my own.”
“I’d never do dat.” He ran his hand against the side of my face, then threaded his fingers through the hair at my temple. “I’ll never leave ye again.”
“I love you.” There was forgiveness in my words.