I kiss him again. He drops his forehead to my shoulder and exhales. A shudder runs through his big body. I can tell he’s deeply affected by the story he just told me, that saying it aloud was excruciating and brought back horrible memories along with a mountain of guilt. But for the first time, I’m grateful for his insistence on talking things out.
But there’s one last item on the agenda that I’m not about to let go.
I pull away from him and wait until he raises his head and looks at me to say, “A small public service announcement: if you ever refer to me as ‘p***y’ again, I’ll break your face.”
He pulls his brows together. “What?”
“I heard what you told Declan about me.”
After a moment, he understands. “You were earwigging at the door?”
“If that’s an obscure Irish word for eavesdrop
