Knowing I still had the power to reassure him was almost too much to comprehend. Who had been reassuring him all these years? Or had he just forged ahead, feeling uncertain after every step? “Good. I'm glad. Because you should never feel badly about your music or your ability to put on an amazing show.”
He shook his head. “I’ve had some bad stretches over the years. You just weren't around for it.” His voice was rich with disappointment.
The air in the room went dead for a moment.I wasn't around for it.Had I let him down? I'd always felt like I'd let him off the hook.
He cleared his throat and looked down at his own bare stomach. “I should probably get dressed. In the bath, I suppose.”
“Right. The bathroom.” I was stuck with that feeling of wanting something desperately and knowing that what I craved was bad for me, if only because losing it made you feel hollowed out. Still, I wanted him to cup the sides of my face, dig his fingers into my hair, and kiss me. I wanted him to let the towel drop to the floor and I wanted him to want me naked. I wanted him to throw me down on the messy side of the bed and be reckless. I wanted him to weigh me down and let me feel him. Make me unravel around him and then roll me on to my stomach on the tidy side of the bed and do it again, this time from behind, with his arm curled under my belly, pulling my hips into his.
I wanted him to ruin me.
A knock came at the door. “That'd be room service,” he said.
“I’ll get it. You get dressed. You don't want to answer the door half-naked.”
“Not that I haven't done it before.” He laughed and disappeared into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.
I let in a young man with the name Edward embroidered on his uniform. He smiled, but was all business, charging into the room with the clunky cart. He earnestly began setting out plates, glasses of juice, a carafe of coffee, napkins and utensils on a table in a corner seating area. Leave it to Eamon to order way too much food for two people.
Edward turned and presented me with the leather folio. “Ms. MacWard? If you'll sign, I'll be on my way.”
I looked at him, dumbstruck, then realized Eamon was standing there watching the exchange. He'd put on dark jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, but he'd only fastened one button so far and I was so close to blurting that he really shouldn't bother with the rest.
“I’ll take that,” Eamon said, signing the check and letting Edward know with a nod that he should clear out. “Right then. Breakfast. I don't know about you, but I could bloody use some coffee.”
We sat in comfortable upholstered chairs and I watched as he filled the white room service mugs. This was so normal, it was still hard to wrap my head around it. He reached for the tiny pitcher of cream, adding the just-right amount before handing me my cup. The coffee was delicious and hot, which seemed apropos considering the person who'd served it to me.
“I enjoyed meeting your sister last night. She's funny.”
“Funny strange or funny ha-ha?”
“Humorous. She seems to enjoy embarrassing you.” A few strands of his hair fell across his forehead as he removed the metal cloche from the plate before me. He knocked it back with a flick of his head.
“It's practically her hobby, but we've been close since we were kids. It just goes with the territory.”
“What does she do?”
“She's a lawyer. And she's getting married in December. That's like a full time job right now. Or at least a preoccupation.” I picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite, still feeling nervous and on edge.
“Good for her. And what are you doing for work these days?”
This. This I could talk about. “Do you remember when I told you about my eyesight?”
His face lit up with recognition as he scooted forward on the edge of his seat and tucked into his eggs. “Oh, right. Tetra something. The colors.”
“Tetrachromacy.”
“That's the word.”
“Well, as it turns out, there's an actual use for it. I work as a color expert at the North American Color Institute. We consult with companies on product development, advertising, and marketing.” It always sounded so dull, but I had no idea how to make it sound interesting. I only knew that it was. To me at least. “And what about you? How's the career stuff going?”
He let loose a heavy sigh. “It could be better, honestly.”
“What? The house was packed last night and the crowd loved you.”
“The last record did not do well. It sold about half of what the record before it did. So the pressure is on, you know? I need to write another hit.” He dropped his fork for the sake of making air quotes. “I go into the studio in January. Upstate New York. We'll see. Hoping I can turn it around.”
“I’m sure you'll do great. You always do.”
