Craving Resurrection
Page 44
“Turn around so I can get to those buttons.”
A few more tears rolled down my face while she painstakingly unbuttoned every small button down my back, and I tried not to remember how I’d imagined hearing a ripping sound as Patrick lost patience with the small pieces of plastic and fabric. I’d giggled when I’d tried the dress on, imagining Patrick’s frustration.
“Well, if I’d known I’d be the one doin’ this, I would have advised ye to get the gown with the zipper,” Peg commented with a huff, causing me to snort.
“If you just do a few more, I can get it off my hips.”
“Okay, give me one more minute… there, see if that will work.”
I brushed the sleeves off my shoulders and watched silently as the dress gaped in front and then slowly started to sag. Then, I clenched my jaw and shoved the bodice down over my hips until it billowed on the floor around me. I stepped out and sat on the bed, silently unbuckling my shoes and rubbing my sore feet.
Peg moved to the door, turning when I finally spoke.
“Would it be really rude if I stayed in here for a while?” I asked. “I’m getting a headache.”
She searched my eyes before nodding twice. “That’s fine, dear. Ye lie down for a bit. The only people left are too drunk to care where the guest of honor is.”
Once she was gone, I took off the fancy, light blue bra I’d bought for my wedding night and slipped on a pair of Patrick’s sweats and a large flannel shirt that was tucked into the bag he’d dropped off the night before. They smelled like him, and I pulled my head into the neck of the shirt like a turtle so I could take a huge whiff. It was the best scent in the world.
I crawled under the sheets that I hadn’t thought I’d be sleeping in, and it didn’t take me long before I was falling asleep with tears dripping occasionally off my face.
What a horrendous wedding night—the sun hadn’t even gone down and I was in bed alone.
Chapter 22
Amy
I woke up later to the familiar feeling of Patrick sitting down on the edge of the bed, but I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to see him. The memory of the reception was vivid in my mind, and I absently realized that my hands felt better, which meant the welts had gone away.
“I know yer awake.”
“I’m surprised you are,” I replied, opening my eyes.
He was hunched over, facing slightly away from me, looking down at his hands that were running along the satin of my discarded bra. He was still wearing what he’d had on before, but his hair looked as if he’d been running his hands through it, and the goofy smile was gone.
“I’m sorry,” he said, finally raising his face so he could meet my eyes. “De lads were handin’ me drinks, and I hadn’t seen dem in a long time between bein’ away for school and spendin’ all of me time wit’ ye... I lost track of time and how much I’d had.”
“Is this how it’s always going to be?” I asked quietly. “Me standing on the edges while you just go off and do whatever with your friends?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t know any of those people, Patrick.”
“I didn’t t’ink.”
“It’s our wedding day. Or it was…”
“Still is. It’s about ten o’clock.”
“You ignored me on our wedding day.” The words came out garbled as I tried to speak around the lump in my throat.
“Aw, love. Don’t do dat. Don’t cry.”
He dropped my bra as he stood, and I watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from his trousers before tearing it off. Next came his shoes and socks, and then finally he was unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down his thighs until they dropped to the floor with everything else.
I let him pull the blankets back and crawl in beside me, and it was a tight fit in the tiny bed as we lay facing each other.
“What de hell are ye wearin’?”
“I didn’t think I’d have company.”
“Christ, how are ye not sweatin’ yer arse off?”
He reached under the blankets between us, and shoved down on my sweats, tearing them off my legs before tossing them behind him.
“What are you doing?”
“I know yer angry. I’m not tryin’ to fuck ye,” he answered in disgust.
“Then what are you trying to do?” I asked as he leaned over me and unbuttoned my shirt.
“I just need to feel ye.” He spread the sides of the flannel wide, then smoothed his hands down my sides. “It’s been so long since I felt yer smooth skin.”
“How did you know I was in here?” I asked as he lay down on his back and pulled my body against his side.
“Did ye t’ink I wouldn’t notice dat me brand new wife went missin’?”
“You seemed busy.”
“I wasn’t.” His arm tightened around my back.
“I bet your mom told you.”
“She did.”
“Did she give you hell?”
“I t’ought she was goin’ to stab me in front of all dose witnesses.”
“Good.”
“Ye can’t go askin’ me mum to fight yer battles.” He reached out to tip my chin toward him. “She’s got no place in dis marriage.”
I stiffened against him, pulling my face from his hand—angry and hurt all over again.
A few more tears rolled down my face while she painstakingly unbuttoned every small button down my back, and I tried not to remember how I’d imagined hearing a ripping sound as Patrick lost patience with the small pieces of plastic and fabric. I’d giggled when I’d tried the dress on, imagining Patrick’s frustration.
“Well, if I’d known I’d be the one doin’ this, I would have advised ye to get the gown with the zipper,” Peg commented with a huff, causing me to snort.
“If you just do a few more, I can get it off my hips.”
“Okay, give me one more minute… there, see if that will work.”
I brushed the sleeves off my shoulders and watched silently as the dress gaped in front and then slowly started to sag. Then, I clenched my jaw and shoved the bodice down over my hips until it billowed on the floor around me. I stepped out and sat on the bed, silently unbuckling my shoes and rubbing my sore feet.
Peg moved to the door, turning when I finally spoke.
“Would it be really rude if I stayed in here for a while?” I asked. “I’m getting a headache.”
She searched my eyes before nodding twice. “That’s fine, dear. Ye lie down for a bit. The only people left are too drunk to care where the guest of honor is.”
Once she was gone, I took off the fancy, light blue bra I’d bought for my wedding night and slipped on a pair of Patrick’s sweats and a large flannel shirt that was tucked into the bag he’d dropped off the night before. They smelled like him, and I pulled my head into the neck of the shirt like a turtle so I could take a huge whiff. It was the best scent in the world.
I crawled under the sheets that I hadn’t thought I’d be sleeping in, and it didn’t take me long before I was falling asleep with tears dripping occasionally off my face.
What a horrendous wedding night—the sun hadn’t even gone down and I was in bed alone.
Chapter 22
Amy
I woke up later to the familiar feeling of Patrick sitting down on the edge of the bed, but I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to see him. The memory of the reception was vivid in my mind, and I absently realized that my hands felt better, which meant the welts had gone away.
“I know yer awake.”
“I’m surprised you are,” I replied, opening my eyes.
He was hunched over, facing slightly away from me, looking down at his hands that were running along the satin of my discarded bra. He was still wearing what he’d had on before, but his hair looked as if he’d been running his hands through it, and the goofy smile was gone.
“I’m sorry,” he said, finally raising his face so he could meet my eyes. “De lads were handin’ me drinks, and I hadn’t seen dem in a long time between bein’ away for school and spendin’ all of me time wit’ ye... I lost track of time and how much I’d had.”
“Is this how it’s always going to be?” I asked quietly. “Me standing on the edges while you just go off and do whatever with your friends?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t know any of those people, Patrick.”
“I didn’t t’ink.”
“It’s our wedding day. Or it was…”
“Still is. It’s about ten o’clock.”
“You ignored me on our wedding day.” The words came out garbled as I tried to speak around the lump in my throat.
“Aw, love. Don’t do dat. Don’t cry.”
He dropped my bra as he stood, and I watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from his trousers before tearing it off. Next came his shoes and socks, and then finally he was unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down his thighs until they dropped to the floor with everything else.
I let him pull the blankets back and crawl in beside me, and it was a tight fit in the tiny bed as we lay facing each other.
“What de hell are ye wearin’?”
“I didn’t think I’d have company.”
“Christ, how are ye not sweatin’ yer arse off?”
He reached under the blankets between us, and shoved down on my sweats, tearing them off my legs before tossing them behind him.
“What are you doing?”
“I know yer angry. I’m not tryin’ to fuck ye,” he answered in disgust.
“Then what are you trying to do?” I asked as he leaned over me and unbuttoned my shirt.
“I just need to feel ye.” He spread the sides of the flannel wide, then smoothed his hands down my sides. “It’s been so long since I felt yer smooth skin.”
“How did you know I was in here?” I asked as he lay down on his back and pulled my body against his side.
“Did ye t’ink I wouldn’t notice dat me brand new wife went missin’?”
“You seemed busy.”
“I wasn’t.” His arm tightened around my back.
“I bet your mom told you.”
“She did.”
“Did she give you hell?”
“I t’ought she was goin’ to stab me in front of all dose witnesses.”
“Good.”
“Ye can’t go askin’ me mum to fight yer battles.” He reached out to tip my chin toward him. “She’s got no place in dis marriage.”
I stiffened against him, pulling my face from his hand—angry and hurt all over again.
