Page 29 of A Merciless Husband
Oh. Is that it? Maybe there wasn’t anything I was “supposed” to say after all. “Okay. I’d love that.” And it’s true, I would. I’d love to hear more about what matters to him, to have that kind of intimacy. He hasn’t talked about his mother much, but I get the sense that he holds her close to his heart. I suddenly want to know all about her, every memory he has of her.
His hand rubs up and down my back, the warmth of belonging kindling in my chest. “That’s why I call you leannán. That’s the name of the main fairy in it.”
I still. He’s given menothingabout that nickname when I’ve asked before, made it sound like it was just a common term of endearment. But there’s been a story behind it all along? Why is he telling me about this now?
“It is?”
“Yes.” I’ve never heard his voice so soft before. It’s quiet, like he’s almost shy about admitting this.
I pause for a moment, trying to come up with a reply as I process this revelation. He’s been calling me the name of a fairy. From a story that his mother wrote. It’s obviously somethingthat means a lot to him, so the fact he’s been calling me that practically since we met is baffling to me.
I guess I just never really understood how much his emotions were tangled up in his obsession with me. He’s always come across as this cold, detached mafia man in my mind, even as he’s been tender and sweet with me. Is it because he’s actually been unemotional with me? Partially, perhaps. But I also think it’s because of how I’ve viewed him, which may not be wholly true. I’ve been looking at him through the lens of my grandfather and what little I know of the mafia world.
Well, maybe not entirely. My own experiences with him have been sneaking in, and maybe that’s why I’m here in Ireland with him. It’s why I’ve come to trust him. The way my brain works often has me questioning everything, trusting my own experiences rather than what I’ve been told. And maybe that’s worked well for me in this situation, as it has in many others.
I turn to look at Kerry, and his gray eyes are soft as his gaze meets mine. “What does it mean to you?” My voice is quiet, almost scared to ask.
“It means everything.” His voice is equally as soft and fragile as mine. Perhaps even more so.
I tilt my head, studying him as the warm water of the bath chases away any chill I might feel from the cold air. “Everything?”
He nods, and it almost feels like he’s promising me the world. “Yes. Everything.”
I turn back around and lean against his chest. “Can you tell me the story now?”
He pauses for a moment. I know this because I can feel him take a deep breath and then hold it as he thinks, and then lets it out slowly. “Yes. But I’d also like to show you her actual writings and drawings of the story, too.”
I smile as I feel the warmth of his skin behind me, somehow even warmer than the hot bath water surrounding us. “Okay. I’d like that a lot.”
He only hesitates for a moment more before he begins to tell me the story from memory. It’s a sad tale at times, a tale of two fairies from opposite elements, light and dark, who fall in love. But their own biology makes it impossible for them to be together. It’s a star-crossed lovers tale, like Romeo and Juliet but make it about fairies.
I can see why he was enraptured with it as a child, but what I can’t fully understand is why he views me as this magical fairy of light.MaybeI can understand why he views himself as a fairy of darkness, considering what he does for a living and all, but me? A being of goodness and light? It doesn’t quite add up with my view of myself.
Still, the story is beautiful, and I find myself with tears in my eyes by the end of it, when the two fairies decide to use magic to change themselves to be able to be with one another only during equinoxes. And on those nights, they dance, the light and darkness merging until they are a waltz of shadows.
His arms get tighter around me as the story goes on. By the time the water is cold around us, I feel like I've gained an insight into Kerry as a person and how he views me. The thing is, I’m just not sure if he’s right or not.
Still, I like the thought of the point of the story being applied to our relationship. That two people coming from such opposite worlds could find peace and love together, even in their differences.
I can only hope the same can be said for us.
Once Kerry is finished telling the story, we’re quiet as we get up and dry off, going through the motions of getting ready for bed. I don’t mind the silence. It feels comfortable and safe,especially with everything I have going on in my head. It’s been a long day full of information, most of it pretty emotional.
Kerry disappears for a few minutes and comes back to brush his teeth. When I make my way out into the bedroom, I find the bed freshly made, fitted with clean sheets. I can’t help but smile at the sight. It’s a considerate thing to do. It’s possible he didn’t want to sleep on that himself, which I can’t blame him for, but even so, it’s remarkable to me. I was raised with men who refused to lift a finger with things like this, housework and the like. But Kerry didn’t even hesitate.
I shouldn’t be surprised that Marjorie raised him well. And I should take into consideration the sort of standard that’s been set for me by my father and grandfather. It’s a shitty expectation of men to have, but it’s not something I really even questioned until recently. Untilhim.
I get changed into my pajamas and then crawl into bed, scrolling on my phone for a bit. My family hasn’t seemed to recognize that I’m…well, not in the United States anymore. They haven’t texted me at all, probably because they think I don’t have access to it. Kerry hasn’t mentioned anything, but I suspect they’re still trying to arrange a trade-off with him and he’s being difficult on purpose just to stall them finding out.
Kerry comes out a few minutes into me watching funny cat videos, and I catch the smile that lifts his face when he sees me in his bed. He crawls in beside me, just wearing his briefs, and puts his head on my shoulder. “What are you watching, leannán?”
I turn my phone to show him instead of answering.
He chuckles and kisses my cheek, lips gliding across my skin to reach my ear. “You should sleep. I know you’re tired.”
He’s right. I know he is. But the allure of the doom scroll is strong. “Mm. I will soon.”
He lets me have a few more minutes, even watching the videos with me. But when it’s clear that nothing much ischanging, he sighs and presses the power button on my phone. “Sleep.” He pecks my lips and arches a brow, as if daring me to challenge him.
