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Chapter Thirty-One
My head feels like a very large man has sat on it, and my mouth seems to have grown a colony of fungus inside it. The clock on the nightstand ticks so loudly that I think someone must've put a megaphone in front of it. What did I do last night? I remember dancing with Emery, then…
Mhac na galla. I got drunk.
Though my head hurts, I know this pain will be nothing compared to what my wife will do to me. I deserve to be punished, but I can't imagine Emery doing that. No, she'll give me something worse.
Her misery.
I shift on the bed, making it creak and rustling my clothes. Grimacing with my eyes still shut, I rub my forehead.
"Good morning," my wife says with far too much cheerfulness.
Aye, she is upset with me. Very upset.
"Congratulations," she says. "You slept in for the first time ever."
I peek out at her between my fingers, since I have my hands clamped to my forehead. "What happened?"
"Are you serious? You don't remember?"
"Remember what?" I drop my hand and peer up at the bed's canopy. Her question confused me for a moment, but now I realize what she means. "Bod an Donais."
She drops her erse onto the bed near my feet. "Yeah, you are a devil's dick."
"Emery…" My voice trails off while the import of what I did last night sinks into my brain. "I ruined our second wedding night, didn't I?"
"Yep."
I spew a string of Gaelic curses. "Christ, I'm an erse. Please believe me, I'm sorry for letting you down again. You have every right to be angry, so go on and shout at me. I deserve it."
She folds her arms over her belly and massages her wrist furiously. "Not interested in yelling. Doesn't fix anything. You keep doing stupid things and then saying you're sorry. An ass you might be, but your apologies are wearing thin."
"What can I do?"
"Don't know." She scrutinizes my face, and her lips pucker. "I've got a revolutionary idea. How about you stop doing stupid things, then you won't need to apologize for them."
Her wrist-rubbing escalates into scratching.
I push up onto my elbows, my attention drawn to her wrist. "You're not angry, are you?"
"No. Well, yes, but that's a minor issue at this point."
With my eyes squeezed shut, I let my shoulders cave in. "I hurt you, again. Last night you said you accept me as I am, but I donnae see how you can overlook this. I behaved—I'm a selfish bastard."
"I don't overlook your faults or your behavior. I forgive it, usually, but—" She bites down on her lower lip. "Not sure I can do it this time."
"Cannae blame ye." I wince as I shove up into a sitting position and swing my legs over the bed's edge. My boots thump on the floor, and I stab a hand into my hair, scrubbing my scalp with my fingernails. "I realize it isn't worth much, but I am so sorry, Em."
She watches me for a moment, then her shoulders flag, and her body angles toward me. In a gentler tone, she asks, "Why did you do it? I suggested we have sex, and you scurried to the bar to drown yourself in whisky."
"I wanted one drink, but it…escalated."
"Why? Something scared you yesterday. Why you chose to deal with it by getting soused is beyond me."
My chin drops to my chest. "I don't know why I did it."
"You mean you don't want to tell me." She slides off the bed. "Total honesty. You promised me that. Remember?"
