Loving Irish

by Katy Regnery

  “Listen,” he said after a while, “you’re safe here. You’re safe with me. I will never hurt you, baby. I will never leave you. I will never stop loving you.” He paused. “You came here broken, Halcyon. You weren’t loved by the man you married. You weren’t cherished.” He paused again. “But you will be now. For the rest of your life I’ll cherish every minute I have with you.”

  She reached up and curled her fingers around his arm, taking a deep cleansing breath and letting it go.

  “And think of this,” he whispered, his voice low and sweet and intimate by her ear. “You have Jenny. No matter what else happened with your ex, you got that beautiful little ladybug for your troubles.”

  “I did,” she said, her tears starting to let up now.

  “And now you’ve got me too.” He was quiet for a second, like he was thinking that over, and when he spoke again, his voice was raspier than it had been. “Maybe…well, you might think I’m a bad deal, Halcyon, because in some ways, I’m damaged goods, but I promise I’ll—”

  No one ever whipped around so fast in someone’s arms as she did in his.

  “Stop right there,” she demanded.

  “Huh?”

  “A bad deal?” she asked.

  “Well…”

  “Damaged goods?”

  “The truth is—”

  “The truth is that you’re mine, Ian Haven. You belong to me now. And you are the best deal, and perfect goods. Perfect for me.”

  “When you met me I was a kid with my whole life in front of me,” he said, sniffling softly. “It got bad, Hallie. I lost my job. I lived on the street at one point.”

  “I know,” she said, her heart aching for him. “Britt told me.”

  “I’m a recovering alcoholic. I’ll always be a recovering alcoholic.”

  “And I’m a divorcée with a kid.” She reached for his face, making him look at her in the beam of moonlight that fell across his bed. “I know what you’ve battled, and I know you’ve gotten your life back on track. I know you’re sober. I know you’ll fight to stay sober.” She leaned forward and kissed him gently before drawing away. “I know exactly who you are, Ian. And I want you. All of you. You take my imperfect and I’ll take yours. That’s what love is, Irish. That’s the deal. You’re the glue. We’ll stick together.”

  Clasping his head in her hands, she demanded his lips again, arching her back so that the sensitive points of her breasts rubbed against his chest. With a roar of want, he flipped her onto her back, bracing his weight on the elbows he planted on either side of her head, and kissed her passionately, fiercely, with a raw and instinctive claim.

  The truth was, she’d been his all along, and he’d been hers. They’d just had a long-ass detour on the way to forever.

  “I want you,” she murmured as his lips skimmed her jaw.

  He bit her ear and she moaned, spreading her legs and thrusting up to push against his long, thick erection.

  “I don’t want to wait anymore,” she added. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

  He groaned. “I want it to be good for you. I should—God, I should go down on your first. I had this whole plan…”

  “You had a plan for going down on me?” She chuckled softly, a mixture of happiness and surprise. They’d never gotten quite this far, so they were in new territory, which felt…exhilarating. “If we fast-track to sex now, can we come back to your original plan later?”

  “I wanted to be sure you were ready,” he murmured near her ear.

  “Irish,” she said, licking her lips and feeling a little naughty. “I’m so wet, you’ll slide inside like I’m oiled.”

  “Fuuuuuuuuck,” he sighed, leaning up to look down at her. “For real?”

  “Want to give it a try?” she asked.

  “We need a condom,” he said.

  She looked up at him. “I’m clean. And I’m on the pill. You?”

  His eyes held hers. “I haven’t…”

  “You haven’t what?”

  “I haven’t been with anyone since…”

  “Since what?”

  “Since…”

  “Ian, tell me.”

  “Since Vicky,” he admitted on an exhalation of breath.

  Her lips parted in shock. “You weren’t with Vicky.”

  “Doesn’t matter, Halcyon. I was waiting for you.”

  “College?”

  He shook his head. “No. I mean, I was with women, I fooled around…but I didn’t sleep with them.”

  “After?” she asked, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

  “Even when I was shithouse drunk, no. It was the only line I never crossed.” He took a deep breath, and his chest pressed against hers, his heart beating into hers. “I told you…there is only you for me, mo chroí.”

  This fact exploded in her head like fireworks: the reality that when this beautiful man said that he was hers, he literally meant that he hadn’t been with anyone else since the day he fell in love with her, since the day he’d lost her.

  “Irish,” she sobbed.

  “I didn’t want anyone else,” he said. “Only you.”

  Her hands skimmed down his back, and she curled her fingers into his ass. “Then take me. I’m yours.”

  He rose up a little, positioning himself at the entrance of her sex. She felt the thickness of his head as it pushed forward, relaxing her muscles to accommodate him. As he slipped through her tight lips, she cried out softly, feeling the walls of her sex stretch, sucking him forward until he was fully embedded inside of her.

  “Fuuuck,” she moaned, reaching over her head to curl her fingers around the spindles of his headboard. “Irish, you are so big.”

  “You are so tight,” he panted. “You did not have a baby.”

  “Cesarean,” she sighed, managing to grin at him through a haze of pre-orgasmic tremors.

  “Awwwesome,” he groaned, withdrawing a little before pressing forward again. “I’m not sure how long I can…”

  “Ian, I’m more than halfway there,” she whispered as the head of his cock massaged her G-spot again. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and a whimpering noise escaped from her lips as the hot, hard muscle of his cock slid against every nerve ending inside of her.

  He reached for her face, cupping it in his hands. “I love you. I’ll do better next time.”

  “Better?” she asked, whimpering again as he rocked all the way into her. “You’ll kill me.”

  “No, baby,” he said, quickening the pace and depth of his thrusts. “You’ll live through this a million times.”

  Her breathing was quick and shallow now, a gathering of flutters that had started in her stomach, now strengthening, spreading to every muscle in her pelvis as he pumped into her, filling her, loving her, using her body like it was meant to be used by the only man she wanted.

  “I’m coming,” she cried, the swirling in her body taking her higher and higher and higher until her hands slid from the headboard and landed on his back. Her fingers curled, her nails drawing blood as she clawed her way to perfect light.

  “Halcyon!” he yelled as his body started to shake. For a split-second, he froze, and then he came in waves and quakes, like a full-body heartbeat that she felt in every cell of her body. Pumping his seed deep into her, he collapsed against her shoulder, murmuring, “Tá grá agam duit, grá gael mo chroí” close to her ear.

  ***

  As he came down from the high, he registered the gentle scrape of her nails against his back, rhythmically, absently, slowly, and softly.

  “Baby?” he panted, rolling to his side and taking her with him.

  “Mmm?”

  “Did the world just move?” he asked, pulling her closer. He was still deeply lodged within her body and in no hurry to change that.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered, laughing softly with satisfaction. “Did you come?”

  She laughed. “You couldn’t tell?”

  Honestly, he couldn’t. Once hi
s own orgasm hit, he’d been so carried away with his own pleasure, it was like the rest of the world had slipped away.

  “It was okay?”

  “Irish, if you’ve got more than that in the arsenal, it’s going to be hard to get me out of your bed.”

  He grinned in post-orgasm happiness, clasping her closer. “Good. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  “What did you say?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In Irish. What did you say?”

  He breathed deeply. “Tá grá agam duit. Literally, it means ‘Tá There…grá love…agam I…duit you.’ But it’s ‘I love you’ in Irish.”

  Hallie, who was still on her side, smiled at him. “Here. Love. I. You.”

  “How did this happen?” he whispered.

  “Fate,” she answered.

  “Nah. Fate’s a jealous fucker. He kept us apart.”

  “Silly Irish,” she said, rolling to her back and breaking their physical connection. “She brought us back together.”

  And like every man on the face of the earth, all he wanted was to be back inside of her warm, wet body now that they were apart. He leaned up on his elbow. “What next?”

  “Happiness,” she said, her eyes dreamy.

  “What do we tell the ladybug?”

  “Nothing official yet,” said Hallie. “But we can tell her that we’ll be staying here for a while.”

  “A while?” he said, frowning at her.

  “More than a while,” she assured him, and while he’d have preferred the answer “forever,” he’d take this for now.

  “What do we tell everyone else?”

  “They’ll know just by looking at us,” she said, rolling to her side to face him. “I’m sure your brother and sister already do.”

  “Halcyon,” he said, his eyes starting to close, like he’d come to the end of an exhausting journey and it was finally safe for him to let down his guard now and rest, “if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

  “It’s not a dream. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, her voice light and soft and tinged with love and humor. He tightened his arm around her and pulled her closer, into the spoon of his body.

  “I love you,” he said, drifting off to sleep.

  “Here, Irish,” she answered softly, “love I, you.”

  CHAPTER 12

  One week of happiness turned into two, into three, until Hallie barely remembered the dark days that had led her to New Hampshire in the first place.

  Living with Ian had turned out to be the best decision she’d ever made. Not only was his apartment Christmas Central, with nightly holiday movies, a never-ending supply of hot cocoa, and crackling fires every night before bed, but he was as good as his promise, loving her body to perfection every night and leaving her breathless for more come morning.

  For the second time in her life, Halcyon Gilbert was deeply in love.

  For the first time in her life, she could visualize a future so happy, so right, she woke every day feeling more whole, more strong and certain about her life, than she ever had before.

  She became accustomed to Ian being away every weeknight between eight and nine, after they put Jenny to bed together. Two nights a week, he had hockey practice, but on the others, she looked forward to nine, knowing that when he returned, he’d carry her to bed, and they’d talk and laugh and make love until dawn.

  Ten days after the nor’easter that had knocked out her power, it came back, but they’d already sealed up her cottage for the winter. After the spring thaw, in March or April, they’d see about repairs. Until then, Hallie had agreed to live with Ian, and the more comfortable she and Jenny were at his place, the more Hallie wondered how it would feel to stay with Ian forever.

  Not that they’d discussed marriage, but the idea slipped into her mind now and then. Hallie Haven. Ian’s wife. Britt’s sister-in-law. A real family for Jenny. Imagining herself as Ian’s wife was like a dream she never thought would come true. It made her heart swell with happiness and longing, though there was another side of her—a very small side—that she also had to acknowledge: a thread of trepidation at the thought of a wedding.

  Her first marriage had been such a terrible mistake—she’d married Sergio for all the wrong reasons, which had made her wedding a trap, not a treasure. Next time she said, “I do,” she wanted it to be for all the right reasons and forever; and she wanted to do it her own way.

  On a Saturday morning, a week before Christmas, Hallie woke up alone in Ian’s bed. She turned to her side, naked under the covers, and sighed. His pillow was cool. He’d been gone for a while.

  Though business at the Summerhaven Event and Conference Center slowed down over the holidays, they did have a couple of groups still coming in to use the facilities. Tonight, there was a Christmas party in the main dining room for the Lakes Region Chamber of Commerce, which meant catering for over two hundred guests, and no doubt Ian was up early to salt and sand the dirt paths, parking lot, and walkways leading to the event.

  Hallie stretched, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and reaching for the nightgown she’d worn for about ten minutes last night. Today was also exciting for another reason: Rory and Brittany would be home this afternoon. Their flight landed at three o’clock, and Britt had hired a car to drive them home to New Hampshire, where they’d spend the next two weeks celebrating Christmas and New Year’s with the Haven clan.

  In fact, Christmas would be a rather large celebration this year.

  Mr. and Mrs. Haven planned to drive over from Dartmouth. Finian was still here, Burr’s sister and parents were coming up, and—though she still couldn’t believe it, because her parents loathed the snow and cold—Hallie’s parents were coming up from Florida to spend a few days at Summerhaven too.

  It was the first Christmas in a long, long time that Hallie was feeling that marvelous childlike anticipation again, and sharing her excitement with Ian and Jenny just multiplied it exponentially.

  “Mommy! Are you up?” asked Jenny, bounding into the room Hallie shared with Ian. Though they would, at some point, probably trade rooms with Jenny so that theirs was the larger one, it seemed a premature conversation for now, so they were leaving things as-is.

  “Good morning!” she chirped. “How’s my girl today?”

  “Auntie Britt and Uncle Rory are coming home today! And they’re bringing me presents!”

  Hallie pulled Jenny onto her lap, kissing her face and neck all over. “You taste delicious!”

  “Mommy, stop!” Jenny insisted, amid a flutter of giggles. “We have to get dressed and go help Ian.”

  This was another development over the past few weeks. At some point, Jenny had started called Ian “Ian” instead of Mr. Haven. At first, Hallie had been tempted to maintain propriety and insist that her daughter use a respectful address, but Ian had seemed so pleased by the informality—and they were living with him, after all—so Hallie let it slide.

  “Ian is salting and sanding, ladybug,” she said, letting her wiggling daughter go, “and you can’t help with that. So how about we have some breakfast instead, huh? And then we need to do some grocery shopping, because we are out of everything.”

  “Ian eats like a bear,” said Jenny, rolling her eyes.

  Hallie hooted with laugher. “He does. But he’s our bear, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is.” Jenny nodded earnestly. “I’ma go get dressed!”

  After breakfast, they bundled up in their parkas, the boots Hallie had finally found in the cottage basement, hats, and mittens and headed down to Center Harbor for some grocery shopping. With Christmas carols on the radio and Jenny singing along from her car seat, all felt right in the world, and Hallie, for one, was going to let herself enjoy it.

  ***

  When Shandie had texted Ian early this morning, asking to meet him at the Starbucks in Center Harbor, he’d grimaced.

  First of all, he wasn’t her sponsor—she had a sponsor: an older woman named M
aevis who’d been sober for thirteen years and lived in Sandwich—but for whatever reason, maybe because of their high school connection, Shandie had chosen to lean on him lately.

  He didn’t want to refuse her or let her down, and God forbid he didn’t meet with her and she backslid, but there was a reason that AA preferred for a person’s sponsor to be of the same sex. The intimacy of sharing your fears with someone of the opposite sex could foster affection, leading to expectations that the other person wasn’t prepared to meet. Not to mention, Ian had been doing the steps for less than a year. Most of the time, a sponsor was someone who was well-seasoned in AA with a ton of tools in their toolbox. Ian was still relatively new.

  Second of all, he had a lot of work to do today. With tonight’s dinner group coming in, he still needed to freshen up the pine roping in the dining room, check the strings of white lights around the window frames and bannisters, and make sure there was a playlist of Christmas music three to four hours long. Yes, Chef Jamie would handle the food and waitstaff, and Doug could take care of the driveways and parking lot, but Ian would prefer to be at Summerhaven this morning, not sitting by the window at a Starbucks waiting for Shandie to arrive.

  Maybe it was time to—gently—build a boundary with her. He would remind her to call Maevis and that AA encouraged newbies to lean on their sponsors. Maybe he’d even mention Hallie and tell Shandie that now that he was in a committed relationship, it felt funny for them to meet alone. But damn, he didn’t want to negatively impact her recovery either. It was a conundrum.

  “Ian!”

  He looked up from his coffee to see Shandie walking into the café, a sparkly red gift bag in her hand.

  “Morning,” he said, offering her a half smile as she put the little bag on the table and took off her coat. It felt like she was a little overdressed for morning coffee in a red sweater with a plunging neckline, a necklace that drew his eyes to her cleavage, and matching bright-red lipstick. He cleared his throat. “You doing okay?”