Mellow sex with Fliss was every bit as mind-numbing as make up sex and frantic sex and drunk sex and angry sex.
Afterwards, she lay over me as I brushed my fingertips along the delicate curve of her spine.
“I’ve never had anything like this,” she whispered.
I buried my face into her hair, breathing deeply, before I answered. “Like what?”
“This… just lying here touching and being. This quiet togetherness.”
“What about with Trent?”
She lifted up above me a little, looking down with a hint of sadness in her eyes.
“I was a stupid kid when I was with Trent. We generally had sex in his truck and then he took me home. We never had anything like this.”
“And nobody after?”
She bit her lip, clearly ashamed and full of remorse. “That wasn’t really what I was looking for after.”
“What were you looking for?” I asked as I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Punishment maybe? A cathartic release? Something to blow my mind and take the loneliness and guilt away.”
“Guilt?”
She caught my gaze for a moment, then pushed up to sit, tucking the sheet over her breasts as she furrowed her brow. I waited for her to talk, and she finally took a deep breath and spoke in a quiet, trembling voice.
“I could have saved him. If I had just come out of the bathroom sooner, or not gone in at all. If I had just…” Her voice trailed off with a faint catch.
“Fliss, you can’t blame yourself for that,” I said, shaking my head.
“He cheated on me. It wasn’t the first time, either,” she murmured.
“You’re right,” I nodded, “he did. Quite often, too.”
She blinked away a faint sheen of tears. “I’d heard about a few of them, but that night I’d had enough. I was trying to break up with him, and he got so upset. He had never hit me before then.”
I remembered seeing the bruise on her cheek at the hospital, unsure how she’d gotten it.
Now I knew.
“He was really angry, yelling and… well, then he started in about you.”
“Me?” The first uneasy stirring began to tighten inside me.
“He started yelling, saying he knew how I felt about you,” she whispered.
“How you felt about me?” I cautiously asked. My chest tightened and my throat was beginning to feel raw.
“I tried to hide it, the attraction I always had for you, but somehow… he knew.”
A sick feeling had taken hold of my chest as I thought back to the last time I’d seen Trent alive.
The weird, unsettled look in his eyes came back to me. And those words he has said. Do you really think she’s ever been mine, Denny? I’d never totally understood.
Until now.
Fliss looked back to me, her eyes stormy and wrought with penitence and remorse.
“It was like the perfect storm. He was doing some new shit, stuff that seemed to make him mean. Dark. He pushed me up against the wall and then… he hit me.” Her voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I was hurt and scared. I locked myself in the bathroom until he quieted. When I came out, he was cold. Gone.”
My mind reeled. His last thoughts had been about me – his friend – and his girlfriend. He knew. He knew how she felt about me.
And he had known how I felt about her. I was sure of it as the last thing he said to me echoed around in my brain. His dejected anger.
I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
“It’s like I can still hear him screaming at me, yelling that the only reason I was with him was to be close to you,” she whispered.
“Was it?”
The words left my mouth before I could catch them. Bitter and icy. The same way my chest felt knowing that, not only had I left my friend alone when he needed me most, but he’d known the whole time how I coveted his girl. How I’d wanted her to be mine.
And he knew that she had wanted me, too.
Fliss’ eyes went wide. “You really think I’d do that? You think I’d date someone for months, that I’d sleep with him, because I wanted to be near you?”
“You pretty much did that in Dublin,” I said coldly. The final nail in the coffin.
She sat up and pulled away, shock and betrayal darkening her eyes. “That was different.”
“Yeah, how?”
“I cared about Trent,” she said, staring at me in appalled awe before digging through the clothes to find one of my shirts. She pulled it on over her head, and it fell to almost reach her knees.
“Right, you cared about him so much that you came onto me at his bleedin’ funeral.”
Fliss froze in shock, shock I felt, too, at my words. Words I didn’t mean, not towards her, anyway. Towards myself.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” she whispered at first, and her voice grew louder and stronger as her anger took hold. As she fired up gloriously. “You left him. Over and over again. I stayed with him through a lot of really tough shit, and that’s a fuck of a lot more than you ever did.”
Her accusation stung, it cut deep because it was true, and my reply narrowed, aiming to strike her where it hurt. “I couldn’t be around him because it always meant being around you.”
“You’re blaming me? You’re blaming me for you bailing on him? You fucking asshole,” she spat, shaking as she stormed to the bedroom door. The reverberations of it slamming behind her shook the windows and then faded into the sound of her running down the stairs.
Running away.
It wasn’t fair. None of it. Not the way I’d treated her all these years, pushing her away. Not the way I kept reeling her back towards me.
I knew I had fucked up. I had no doubt in my mind. All the shite that had happened between us would have never come to pass if I’d only made my move that very first day.
I kept hurting her. I kept hurting myself.
At some point, I had to stop it, but I didn’t really know any good way to do it.
Fliss didn’t come home that night. Drew told me she had pulled some clothes from the dryer and said she was going to spend the night at Lily’s.
She said she needed to be away from me for a little while.
What she really needed was to be away from me for good. She needed to be able to move on, and I wasn’t sure she ever would as long as I was here. This community was too small. Even taking Butte into account, we knew so many of the same people. Our lives were tangled together in a way that just wouldn’t release either one of us.
Unless I left. Unless I went home to Ireland.
I didn’t want to. I loved Montana. I loved my life in Ophir.
But I loved Fliss more.
I heard her come into the house the following evening. I listened to her footsteps slowly climb the stairs and turned to look at her as she opened the door to come into our room. She’d been to work, as evidenced by the clothes she wore. As I stood, I noted her eyes looked tired and red. Her cheeks were slightly ruddy, as though she’d only just managed to quell the tears.
All of which told me I was about to do the right thing.
“This isn’t going to work, Fliss, and it’s not fair to either of us. It might have, once, but I can’t… not anymore. Not with everything that has happened, everything I know now.” I shifted my feet and released a heavy sigh. “He’ll always be a ghost between us.”
Her voice caught and she bit down on her trembling lip, but she didn’t speak.
So I did.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” she whispered with a wry twist in her tone. It was hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.
“It was all a mistake,” I said, trying to ignore the agonizing flinch she gave at my words. “I should have never gone through with this. I should have known it wouldn’t work.”
She stepped around me, hanging her jacket over the chair, standing with her back to me.
“I’m going back to Dublin.”<
br />
Fliss turned to look at me. “So you would rather go back, possibly get me thrown in jail, than stay married to me to get your green card.”
“If I go talk to Frank,” I said, shaking my head, “tell him it’s just not working out between us and I’m going back to Ireland, they won’t do anything to ya. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You sound like you’ve thought a lot about this.”
I nodded. “All night. All day. It’s really the best thing to do.”
She looked down and exhaled sadly. “Then I guess there is no reason to pretend anymore.”
“None,” I agreed with a quiet conviction. “None at all.”
For a second, just the briefest moment of time, she glanced back up at me with a sharp jagged pain reflecting in her eyes. A fraction of a second, faster than the eye could flick.
And then it was gone. She turned towards the door, quietly murmuring almost to herself.
“Right… I’ll, um… I guess I’ll go see if I could stay with Lily again tonight.”
“Wait,” I said, and she stopped but didn’t turn around. “You can stay here, Fliss.”
She slowly turned and lifted her confused gaze to look at me.
“But you…” Shaking her head, her voice trailed off.
“Your stuff is all here. I’ll go crash on Brannon’s couch.” I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, trying to lighten the situation. No hard feelings and all. “He kinda owes me.”
Her lips lifted in a pained but polite half-smile, her eyes lowered as she gave a hint of a nod.
“Okay. I’ll take tomorrow morning off to pack up my things.”
“It’s not a huge rush. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stay after… after I’ve talked to immigration. They might just haul me off straightaway.” I twisted my lips wryly, and motioned towards the door leading from the bedroom. “The fellas… they’re a rough bunch sometimes, but they’ve gotten pretty fond of you. I’d be willing to bet they’d let you stay as long as you need.”
“You and your bets,” she murmured sadly. She didn’t look up, but swallowed hard. “You should be able to see them, to spend time with them… before you go, though.” Her voice had dropped low, and she turned away from me to walk over to the bed where she sat with her back to me. “I’ll figure something out.”
My heart actually ached with a severity I’d never known. I’d always heard of it. Feckin’ hell, I’d written songs about it, those physical pangs of heartbreak. Suddenly, I had to leave. The air seemed so thick it choked me.
“Be seein’ ya, Fliss,” I said.
I turned and opened the bedroom door, stepping through as though the devil was on my heels, and began to pull it closed. And just before it shut behind me, I heard a soft, somber whisper.
“But you won’t…”
Brannon took one look at my face and reached in the cupboard for a bottle of Jameson. He grabbed two glasses and we sat on the couch. We didn’t talk about anything meaningful. We sure as hell didn’t talk about Fliss and why I was there instead of home getting into bed with my wife. We were fellas, so that wasn’t really what we did.
We just drank until the earliest light of dawn started to border the horizon. I started feeling a little sappy. I didn’t want to talk about her, but, feckin’ hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I couldn’t stop missing her. The pain became visceral and suffocating.
“What are you doing here, Denny?” Brannon finally asked.
Sober, I knew it was over. I knew it was never going to work. But I was shlossed off my arse and, as drunk Denny, that didn’t seem to matter. Drunk Denny was a right bastard who didn’t care what it would do to Fliss if he had Brannon take him home to her. If he climbed into bed with her while she slept and held her in his arms, close to his heart to ease that horrible loneliness he felt.
But regret came swiftly when I woke up as sober Denny again, because I had fucked with her head and pushed her away one last time. When I awoke, alone in the bed I had shared for the past few months with my wife, she was gone. The closet doors were open and there was a gaping emptiness where her clothes used to be.
And she had left her silver wedding ring on the table by the bed.
I got a call from Frank at the immigration office a few days later, reminding me of our marriage fraud interview appointment. This had been a concern of mine since Larry had chosen not to stamp my passport after that initial interview. That wasn’t really a very good sign, but a marriage fraud interview wasn’t unheard of. That’s what Frank had said, anyway. It was all pretty standard.
I didn’t call or message Fliss, thinking I’d try to smooth things over with them myself first. So I drove to Butte and sat in the office waiting for my turn.
The door to the interview room was closed, and I could hear muffled voices, both male and female, from the sound of it. The mumbles continued for about ten minutes or so until they suddenly began to get louder. More frantic.
Suddenly the door flew open, and Fliss stormed out with Larry the fuckhead hot on her heels, followed up by Frank. Sitting along the far wall where I was, none of them saw me at first.
“Why don’t you just tell us the truth, Mrs. Byrne,” Larry scathingly suggested. “You’re liable to end up in prison if you don’t. This is a felony, and not even daddy the sheriff will be able to help you. So, just tell us the truth, and we might be able to work something out.”
“I am telling you the truth,” she cried, whirling around. “All of it. Right from the start. I don’t care what you do to me, but you have to realize that I love him!”
Everything in me twisted and jumbled and gnashed together, freezing me in place. I couldn’t talk or move. I could barely breathe as my heart pounded in my chest.
Frank stepped toward Fliss as she burst into tears, getting her a Kleenex, which she pressed to her eyes.
“I have for years, ever since I first saw him,” she sobbed wretchedly, “and, when we were in Dublin, I thought there was enough between us. I thought we might be able to make it work.”
Larry didn’t seem convinced, but Frank put a hand on her shoulder and glared at his boss.
“I know it sounds corny and juvenile,” she sobbed, “but I really thought I loved him enough for both of us.”
“Mrs. Byrne—” Larry began, but she interrupted him.
“I was wrong,” she said, shaking her head, “but his whole life is here. Don’t take that away from him.”
She suddenly stopped short, catching a glimpse of me out of the corner of her eye. Even though she didn’t fully turn towards me, I could read her expression. She looked completely shattered. Dark streaks of eyeliner trailed down her cheeks as the tears washed her makeup away.
She took one last look at Frank and quietly whispered, “Please.”
Then, head down and avoiding any eye contact with me, she turned and slipped out the door.
Mechanically, I began to follow. I wanted to hold her and brush those dark tears from her beautiful blue eyes. I wanted to comfort her, to promise I’d stay, if for no other reason, than to be with her. To love her back. That was all I really wanted anymore.
“Mr. Byrne,” Larry said, stopping me in my tracks. “Let’s go have a seat in the interview room, shall we?”
My chest felt shredded and empty, lifeless and cold as I walked into the room and sat across from Larry. Frank followed us in and leaned against the closed door.
“You know she confessed,” Larry began. “Said she married you so you could get your green card.”
“There was a little more—” Frank began, but was cut off as Larry interrupted him.
“Frank, go get me a cup of coffee, will you?”
“Sir—”
“Now,” he grated, and Frank hesitated for a moment, looking over at me. He then turned and left the room.
“She admitted it,” Larry said, raising an eyebrow. “The rushed wedding was because she was coming back and was worried you wouldn’t be able to. Said it was he
r idea.”
Which was almost exactly what had happened. But I didn’t want her taking the fall for me.
“That’s true. I was there, so what you’re saying, what she said, is nothing I don’t already know,” I solemnly replied. “She’s telling the truth, but it’s not everything. There was a lot more to it than that.”
“So you’re still going with this story? Still pretending you had every intention of living happily ever after, even though she’s evidently moved out and gone back to daddy’s house.”
“We had a fight. It happens, and I don’t know what the future has in store for us, but she… I never wanted this marriage to be temporary.”
Telling the truth felt good. Even if it was a truth I hadn’t totally known in the days that surrounded our wedding.
“Fine… I’ll play along a little longer,” he said, circling the table to sit across from me again. “Let’s get back to these questions then, shall we?”
The door opened, and Frank came back in the room with coffee, setting a cup down in front of me, as well. Looking concerned, he gave me a wry, apologetic grimace.
It felt like I was in there for hours. Question after question after question. Some of them I knew the answers to.
“What is your wife’s full name?”
“Felicity Michelle Byrne. It was Williams before she became my wife.” The emphasis on that last word made Frank smile little, but Larry didn’t seem all that amused.
I tried so hard to stay cordial, to be polite and cooperative. Larry’s claim that Fliss had confessed reeled in my head. He made me more than a little paranoid, especially with the fight Fliss and I’d had. After I’d pushed her away yet again, she had every reason to be very upset with me. But, deep down, I didn’t believe it.
I couldn’t believe it.
Frank smiled a little every time the frustration boiled over. His supervisor did, too. But Frank smiled in an understanding way, like he could feel the emotion for Fliss radiating out from me. His boss smiled snidely, like he thought I was about to break.
Wild Irish Envy (Copperline #2) Page 20