Madness
Page 23
“I’m not strong enough to be anyone’s anchor to anything, Rory.”
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he replied, leaning forward to place his palm to my cheek. “At the end of every day, you’re still standing, still breathing. You fight for every day instead of throwing in the white fucking flag.”
“I have a promise to keep.”
“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You do it because you are a fighter, and despite what you believe about yourself, you are hopeful that your future will prevail over your past.”
I was silent, boring holes into his eyes—eyes that were filled with steadfast sincerity. My heart healed a little more, and my mind bent toward forgiveness.
“And more than all of that, Frankie, your love is beautiful and bright enough to save the most lost at sea. I was sinking, and you pulled me out of the deep, all alone. You anchored me to the possibility of a good life, one filled with your abundant love.”
God how I wanted what he offered. Not just for myself, but for my daughter.
“When was your last drink?”
“The day after I left you. I drank myself into a fucking stupor, slept it off, went and got the tattoo, and then checked myself into rehab. I’ve been clean since then, Frankie. Of everything.”
“I never stopped thinking of or loving you—”
My words were halted by his warm, soft lips. I drew in his warm breath and sighed into him. His tongue danced across my bottom lip, begging for entrance, and I released a soft moan as I gave in. Rory tasted the same as I remembered—sweet peppermint. He nipped lightly at my top lip before pressing his lips back to mine, kissing me with everything he had to give. I pushed back, matching his emotion.
“It doesn’t have to be today, Frankie, but give me what’s left. Let me be your bright future.” His words were a breathy rasp across my lips, followed by his thumb.
“I want that, Rory. I have since the first time you placed your lips on mine. . . all the way back at the wedding. Maybe I want it more now, for her,” I whispered, my eyes moving to Asha as she slept soundly in my arms. “But we need a lot of work.”
“We’ve got nothing but time, Bubbles.”
I smiled, meeting his gaze once more, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I stared down the possibility of what he offered. I may have told myself night after night that I hated him, that loving him was the greatest and most painful mistake of my life. In truth, I’d never be able to hate him. He gave me the most beautiful and precious gift of my life. He gave me Asha; he gave me hope.
Rory O’Neill taught me that love wouldn’t be my undoing; it would be my saving grace. It was painful, it was pure madness, but it was worth it all.
“I’m ready to open my eyes, Rory,” I smiled.
“Let’s open them together.”
Epilogue
Three years later. . .
How many times had I heard, “Love is patient, love is kind?” The love I experienced with Rory O’Neill wasn’t anything close. It was restless and eager, antagonistic, harsh, and merciless. It was a thing of beauty and perfection. It was unsympathetic madness, and I never would have wanted it another way.
It’s what saved us both.
The day he came back into my life, the day our daughter was born, our lives changed drastically—for the better. He stayed with us that night and never left. We’ve shared every major milestone of Asha’s life—as a family.
He gave me time, although deep down, I never really needed it. I knew what I wanted from him the moment he crashed into my life, whether I allowed myself to accept it or not. There were days I made his life hell, that I made him work exceptionally hard for the redemption he craved. He accepted it, worked through it, and on Asha’s first birthday, he asked me to marry him. I gave him the only answer I ever could—yes.
We married six months later in a small, intimate ceremony within the vineyard (turns out the JOP wasn’t really my cup of tea after all.) It’s the one place I always felt Dad’s presence and a calming peace that made life more livable. My entire family joined us, along with our closest friends. After much begging, Lukas gave me away. He made a threat on Rory’s life, just one, and though they aren’t best friends, they are in a better place than they were the day Asha was born. All it took was Rory proving to Lukas that he wasn’t a total douchebag. He’s still working on that.
Although I wanted Rory’s parents to be a part of our day, to be a part of Asha’s life, they continue to be distant. Maybe one day they will see what they are missing out on. But if they don’t, that’s okay too. Between the two of us, Rory and I have laid the foundation for something strong and lasting.
“Frankie?”
I met ice blue eyes across the bar and smiled. The same familiar butterflies assaulted my stomach when Rory’s lips tilted up into a full grin. No matter how many times he looked at me, gave me a grin, or touched my skin, I’d always melt like it was the first time.
“Rory?”
“I need two glasses of the Francesca Reserve, one of Patrick’s Paradox, and one of Ryan’s Song for the table in the back.”
“Anything else?” I asked, filling the glasses.
“A private meeting in the back office in five minutes,” he quirked with a raised brow.
“Oh, gag me with a wooden spoon,” Karleigh grumbled, walking out of the kitchen with a tray of fruit. “Get a goddamn room!”
“I’m trying!” Rory leaned over the bar, pressing a warm kiss to my lips, twisting a lock of hair around his finger. “Seriously, five minutes.”
“Too much work, not enough time. . .” I teased, nuzzling my nose against his.
“I love you, Bubbles.”
“I love you too, Mr. O’Neill.”
“Date night tomorrow?” he asked, his eyes hopeful.
“Asha is going with Nana.”
“I’m really looking forward to date night.”
I watched him walk away, carrying the tray of drinks to the table; my hand resting on the bump that I swore grew by the minute. I rested back on my heels, smiling as the baby—our son—moved beneath my hands. Boaz Ryan—our sweet boy that was being born out of love. No, he was being born in strength.
My name is Francesca J. O’Neill. I am mentally ill, and my husband is a recovering addict. Our lives together haven’t been easy—they never will be. We struggle every day to overcome the ghosts of our pasts—the ones that haunt us incessantly. But Rory showed me what madness was—he showed me love. The real, unconditional, uninhibited, and unyielding kind.
And if love isn’t madness—beautiful, uncontrolled madness—it isn’t worth it.
A Note from J. L. Vallance
If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, talk with someone today.
Contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline for help and support.
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org
800-273-TALK (8255)
SAMHSA’s National Helpline is a free, confidential, treatment referral and information service for individuals and families facing mental health and/or substance use disorders.
While they do not provide counseling, they do route callers to state services or other intake centers in their states, and connect callers with local assistance and support.
http://beta.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline
800-662-HELP (4357)
J. L. Vallance is a wife, mom, and nurse by day, while posing as a writer by night. Plagued with an overactive imagination, a lover of all things supernatural in nature, she has an extraordinary flair for the dramatic that adds flavor to life. There’s little in her world that Otis Redding and buttercream icing can’t fix. And of course, coffee always helps too. True story.
www.jlvallance.com
Email me at :j.l.vallance@aol.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/jlvallance
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jlvallanceguild
Thank you for reading Madness.
This has been a st
ory that has lived inside my head and heart for a very long time, and I feel overwhelmed to finally have it down in words.
I’d like to thank my family, as always, for being immensely supportive. Without your encouragement, I may not have the courage to follow my dreams.
The very same thing goes for all my friends. You are amazeballs. For seriousness.
Massive thank yous to all of my beta readers—Echo, Candie, Cherie, Amanda, and Jacque. You have all helped make Madness what it is.
And to my editor, Tanya, thanks for becoming my friend; thank you for helping me be my best.