Honey Cut novel · Chapter 11 of 24
Chapter 11: Three in the Bed
I read the certificate out loud to the two of them.
Niall sat very still with a slice of toast halfway to his mouth.
Kieran stood at the window with his back to me.
"I have never been to Quincy," he said, when I finished. "I have never signed this. It's a forgery."
"I know."
"Seamus knows I'd never..."
"I know, Kieran."
"Then why did he..."
"Because it doesn't have to be real." I put the page on the desk. "It only has to be read out loud at the dock office, in front of three hundred men. Nobody there will check a county record. They'll see a wife who was already married and a bodyguard who took the boss's bed behind his back."
"That's a lie," Niall said.
"Is it?"
The study went quiet.
I stood up.
My heart was going so hard that I thought they could hear it.
"You two have been talking around each other for days," I said. "In cars. In doorways. Niall, you stand in the kitchen and say go on like you're handing me a coat. Kieran, you drive me to the dock and don't breathe. I'm done with it."
"Kit," Niall began.
"I'm talking."
He closed his mouth.
"I wanted you," I told him. "I still do. Last Friday, and this morning, and the whole time I was in his bed. I want him. I wasn't pretending in the garage and I wasn't pretending in that room."
Kieran turned.
His face was white.
"I'm not choosing," I said. "I won't. I'm not a prize you two get to hand across the table. I've been sold once in my life and it was by a man who called me honey. If you want me, you want me as I am, with both of you in the house and nobody lying about it."
Niall rose slowly from behind the desk.
He walked around it and stopped a foot from Kieran.
They looked at each other.
I had never seen it, two grown men who had shared a bedroom wall for twenty-two years and could finish each other's sentences, standing there not saying a word.
"Do you want this?" Niall said.
"Yes," Kieran said, hoarse.
"All of it. Her. In my house. With me in the room."
"I don't know how to want less."
Niall's jaw worked.
"Neither do I," he said.
He turned to me.
"Tonight," he said. "Upstairs. Not because Seamus is breathing on us. Because I'm tired of watching you from across a hall."
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