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For the next two hours, I potter about the house, tidying and cleaning just for something to do. I know Finn has a cleaner, but what’s the point in him paying someone when I can do it? Da would never pay anyone for help, he said it was my place to make sure the house was clean, and to make sure there was food on the table for him.
I’m cleaning the kitchen and putting away the dishes from the morning, lost in my thoughts. Our families have known each other longer than I’ve been alive. The day Finn and I hooked up in Ireland, I thought all my Christmases had come at once. I’d had a crush on him for so many years. Not that he ever noticed me. Eleven years between us and all I thought he’d ever see me as was a kid.
But that night in the club, I’d spotted him talking to some of Da’s soldiers, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
It was only when I was stealing another glance at him did I notice he was watching me. I’d been scared in that moment, his gaze had seemed like a predator, a hunter. I’d turned away, shaking it off, but it wasn’t long before he came up behind me, his arms snaking around my front, his hand pulling me back to him, his breath on my neck… I remember shivering, and he’d chuckled at me before placing a kiss right under my ear. We’d danced for a little while before he pulled him outside the club his lips millimetres from me, “Let’s get out of here princess”
“Where are we going?” I asked in a whisper, I was nervous, but aroused at the same time. He winked before helping me into his car parked at the side of the club.
He moves around to the driver’s side and climbs in, casting a glance my way, “Back to mine, unless you have any objections?”
I bite my bottom lip and shake my head, I wanted this, I’d never wanted anything more in my life.
Ten minutes later he pulls me through his front door, I glance nervously around, “Ma isn’t here baby, we’re alone”
He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, as he carries me upstairs to his bedroom, kicking his door shut.
He places gentle kisses along my jawline and down my neck, sucking on my pulse point, I inhale in a sharp breath as he pulls away throwing me on his bed.
“Last chance princess”
My only response is to climb to my knees and lift my dress over my head, his eyes turn dark as he watches before ripping away his clothing and climbing on top of me.
I shake the memory free. I want that again. I want to feel his breath on my neck, his hands on me and his lips… what I wouldn’t give to feel those lips on me again.
Deciding to send him a message, I grab the rest of the dishes from the dishwasher to put them away, but just as I grab the glasses, I hear a noise in the hallway. It’s faint, but I know I’m not alone. My body turns to ice with fear, and I lose my grip on the glasses. They shatter as they hit the floor. “Oh…” Dropping to pick them up, I hear footsteps approaching, and I can’t help but whimper, the tears flowing, my body shaking.
Just as black shoes round the corner of the counter, I clumsily reach for a piece of glass, slicing through the palm of my hand in the process, and I hiss. “Ouch.”
“Fuck, princess.” Finn reaches down and picks me up, carrying me away from the shards of glass all over the floor. He places me on top of the counter and grabs a first aid kit from one of the drawers.
“Look at me, princess.” He drops the kit on the counter and places his hands either side of my face, tipping it to look at him.
“Need you to breathe for me, princess. Deep breath in, deep breath out.” His eyes are laser focused on mine. I hadn’t even realised I wasn’t breathing properly.
“Princess, you’re having a panic attack. Just focus on me, I need you to breathe with me, baby, please.”
He nudges my legs apart and fits himself between them, our bodies touching, his hands never leaving my face. I watch him as he breathes in and out, in slow controlled breaths, and I find myself mimicking him. Within a few minutes, my breathing has returned to somewhat normal, but my body is still shaking, part in fear and part in response to the comedown from the attack.
He tilts my head towards him and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. I can feel the tension coming off him in droves.
“Finn, I’m sor––”
“Don’t. Don’t apologise for that, princess. Let me take a look at your hand and get it cleaned up, then you can explain the panic attack and the fear I just witnessed.”
I shake my head at him, every intention of telling him I don’t want to talk, but I can’t seem to find my voice.
I watch him move and shuffle through the first aid kit, looking for what he needs. Him being so focussed means I have a little time to watch him without fear of being caught.
His beautiful red hair looks a little darker than normal––it needs a trim on top, and his sides need to be shaved.
His skin is bright with a little glow from where he’s caught the sun, and it’s brought out some light freckles on his cheekbones. What little colour he has doesn’t distract from how tired he looks, and I find myself wondering where he’s been the last few nights that has him so tired. A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, and it’s not from the baby. I find myself worrying that he’s been with another woman. I know I’m probably being stupid, but I can’t seem to control the irrational thoughts. And I wonder if this is what our marriage will be like, me at home alone, while he’s out with another woman.
“Finn?”
“Mmmmm…”
“Can I ask where you’ve been?”
