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Fourteen

Zahra

Cillian drives. I couldn’t. My hands haven’t stopped shaking since the judge signed my husband’s release order. I’m in the passenger seat of his Escalade in one shoe with the other one in my lap, because I broke the heel on the courthouse stairs, and I’m holding the fax confirmation from the prison so tight it’s all crumpled.

“He’s out,” I say. For maybe the fifteenth time.

“He’s out,” Cil agrees.

“They’re processing him right now.”

He nods. “They are.”

“Cil.”

“Zahra.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “We did it. Now, breathe.”

I try, but it comes out as a choked laugh. And my boss reaches over without looking and puts a box of tissues in my lap.

The parking lot’s the same as it’s always been. Chain link. Razor wire. The towers. I’ve walked through that gate so many times, leaving a piece of me on the other side every time.

But not today.

There are three black SUVs already parked along the fence. Aidan’s leaning on the hood of one with his arms crossed. Rian’s next to him, on his phone. Finn’s sitting on the roof of the third car like a giant kid, swinging his legs. I shake my head, smiling.

He’s the first one to see me. He hops off and comes our way, whistling.

“Sister-in-law! Nice shoes!”

“Shut up.” I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.

Aidan comes over and hugs me. He squeezes me for a long time, not saying anything, and when he lets go his eyes are warm.

“Thank you,” he says.

Then the door opens. The steel one with the guard booth. And my husband walks through it.

He’s in a black suit, cut close, straining across his impossibly broad shoulders, white shirt open at the throat with his scar showing. No tie. Hair tied back. Beard trimmed. The sun’s on his face and he stops, right there in the open, closes his eyes and breathes. Then he opens them and looks straight at me.

And I’m running across a prison parking lot in stockings. No glass, no guard, no door.

He catches me, gets both arms around me, lifts me straight off the ground, puts his face in my neck, and I feel his huge body relax.

“Hi,” I say into his collar, crying.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

He’s purring. On a prison parking lot, in front of three guards, his brothers, and my boss, my husband is standing there purring into my hair, and I’m laughing, crying, holding his face in my hands.

“You’re here,” I tell him. “Look at you, baby.”

Then he kisses me. Not a we’re have company kiss. His hand’s in my hair, his tongue’s in my mouth, and I’m giving just as good as I’m getting. I hear Finn catcall and Aidan tell him to shut the fuck up. But we don’t care, I don’t care. Been waiting my whole life for this kiss and I didn’t even know it.

When Declan finally lets me up, he doesn’t put me down. He looks at me. And I can only imagine what he’s seeing. Messy hair, one shoe, mascara everywhere.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he rasps.

I laugh. “I look terrible.”