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Saoirse

 

 

 

“Come on, Saoirse,” Tim said, “my parents are only up for the weekend and they want to meet you.”

“We’re not even official,” I cried, panic gripping me. “I can’t meet your parents.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Saoirse, we’ve been dating for weeks.”

And for weeks we’d been doing this dance. He’d push, I’d pull back.

I tried to move on. I did. But…

“I’m still not ready for anything.”

Truthfully, I might never be. Diarmuid still haunted my dreams, still ghosted my heart.

Tim let out an exasperated noise. He’d been so patient. But he was getting tired of my refusal to let him in. How could I when someone already took up all the space in my heart?

“Maybe we should take a break this weekend,” he said quietly. “Have some space from each other. Maybe then you’ll figure out what you want.”

It was a veiled ultimatum. Either I’d decide to be with him or I would lose him. I should be panicked at this thought.

Why did I feel relief?

After I said goodbye to Tim I went home to a quiet apartment.

“Hello?” I called out as I locked the apartment door behind me, kicking my shoes off at the door.

No answer.

This was weird. There was usually at least one housemate here in the evenings.

I noticed a light coming from the kitchen, heard the hum of one of the appliances. Dammit, someone must have left something on.

I walked in to turn it off, my bare feet cold on the tiles. The light was coming from the oven. Inside was an apple pie.

Who the hell was baking one now? It looked almost done, too.

“Anyone home?” I yelled.

Hearing nothing, I turned off the oven and opened the door to let out the heat.

The smell of apple pie hit me right in the heart. Memories slammed into me so hard that I stumbled back.

Diarmuid and I never got that apple pie.

What I wouldn’t give to share a slice of apple pie and vanilla ice cream with Diarmuid.

I sighed. And knew right then that I could not say yes to Tim. He deserved someone who wasn’t so broken, someone who could love him back, really love him back.

I walked down the hallway to my bedroom, a cosy room which let in the morning sun. I dropped my school bag on the bed and went to drop my keys and handbag on the dresser when something caught my eye.

A tiny blue velvet box.

What was this?

I dropped my keys and bag beside the box and picked it up, turning it over in my hands. Did one of the girls leave it here by mistake?

Or was this for me?

There was no note. It wasn’t my birthday or anything.

I cracked the box open.

Sitting in the centre of the velvet cushion was a tiny silver airplane.

A charm.

Just like the ones on the charm bracelet that I wore all the time.

“Hey, selkie,” a voice came from behind me.

Oh my God.

I dropped the box on the dresser, my hands flying to my mouth.

I thought I heard his voice.

I missed him so much I was going mad, hearing his voice when he couldn’t possibly be here.

I didn’t dare turn around.

It would break my heart to see that he wasn’t really there.

“Why won’t you look at me?” the voice came again.

This time a sob left my mouth.

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. I was going mad with grief.

Two warm hands slipped onto my arms. The scent of Diarmuid’s cologne and man washed over me. This time the sobs could not be contained.

He gently turned me to look at him. He looked so damn good. I wanted to run my fingers through his beard, through his hair now pulled back into a ponytail, trace the ink showing from his sleeve.

All I could do was shake my head.

“What? How are you here?”

He smiled, that perfect gorgeous smile that was only for me. “I flew here, silly.”

“But you’re scared of planes. Terrified of them.”

He shrugged. “I guess I just never had a good enough reason to fly halfway round the world. Until you.”

Everything in me melted.

I reached for him but the frown marring his beautiful face stopped me.

“Who is he?” Diarmuid asked, his voice cracking. “Your new boyfriend.”

Oh God. He must have seen Tim and me.

I shook my head, all the words, the explanations getting caught around the fist of guilt around my throat. How could he forgive me after seeing me with someone else? How could I have done that to him?

“I’m sorry, Diarmuid,” I choked out, unable to look straight at him. “I’m so sorry.”

I felt the life drain out of his hands still holding onto my arms. They slid off me and he took a step back from me. The distance ached. It felt like a thousand oceans all over again.

“Just tell me…do you love him?” he whispered. “Does he…make you happy?”

What?

My face snapped up. The pain etched in Diarmuid’s face almost broke me. He thought I’d moved on?

I reached for him again. This time nothing would stop me. I touched his face, clasped my hands around his head, tangled my fingers in his hair.

“I tried to move on. I tried. But… I am yours. You have my skin.”

“But you looked—”

“We went on some dates. He’s a nice boy. But I’m in love with someone else.”

His eyes jumped up to meet mine. Hope surged in them.

“You,” I said. “I love you. Will love you until my dying breath.”

He crushed his mouth onto mine, his arms folding around me. Our heads tilted so we could get closer, tongues warring and dancing with each other.

My head spun, and I felt like I was flying, weightless over the ocean.

He was here.

Diarmuid was here.

He found me.

Even though I left him. Even though I said all those horrible things in that cursed letter.

I pulled away, eyes scanning over his face, greedy for each inch of him. He looked so damn good, better than any of the memories I’d been carrying around for him. “How did you—? And Ava—?”

He shushed me with a finger against my lips. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Later. Right now, I need you, need to feel you. All of you.”

He stripped me of all my clothes and I stripped him of his. He lowered me to my bed and climbed in between my legs. I moaned long and loud as he thrust into me in one smooth movement.

He made love to me.

Then he fucked me so hard that I screamed.

Good thing no one else was home.