I know what I heard.
He did say those things to me.
Didn’t he?
It’s only when Shay lets out a little chuckle that I know I’m not losing my mind. I almost elbow the big jerk in his stomach, but as Tiernan’s grip on my thigh tightens, I’m forced to ignore his mischievous brother and pay attention to the service instead.
After a few minutes have passed, I start to relax and feel more at ease here.
I wasn’t lying when I told Tiernan that going to church gave me comfort. Ever since I was a little girl, I liked dressing up in my Sunday finest and listening to the word of God. Even when the sermon talked about how hell would be full of sinners, and I knew that sooner or later that meant my entire family would feel its hellish flames, it still gave me a small sense of comfort that justice would prevail in the end.
That every evil thing my father did, he would pay for it with his soul.
Especially when he would beat my ass raw with his belt for my insolence, it comforted me knowing there was a deity out there that would make sure he paid his due in the end. Of course, those were the thoughts of a child. As I grew into womanhood, it pained me when I understood that, like my father, demons would also feast on the flesh of my brothers for all the things they would end up doing as made men. Every day, I would get on my knees and pray every Hail Mary I could in the hopes it would save their souls from such an ending—Francesco most of all.
Just as I’m thinking this, it suddenly dawns on me that, as Tiernan’s wife, I should probably pray a few rosaries for his soul, too.
But can any prayer save the devil from returning to his rightful home?
Doubtful.
I’m still in my head, debating all these things, when I feel the weight of a pair of scrutinizing eyes land directly on me. Father Doyle begins to talk about Salome and how she enticed her mother’s husband, Herod, by dancing seductively for him, just so she and her mother, Herodias, could ask for the head of John the Baptist.
“Take cautions when dealing with these jezebels, for they will entice you with their silver tongue and sinful body to commit the worst crimes known to men. Be true to God, and cast such temptation out of your green pastures, for if it lingers, it will do no less than burn all your hard labors down to ash.”
The way he stares at me as he says it has me shuddering for a whole different reason.
I feel Tiernan’s body go instantly stiff, his grip on my thigh leaving a mark.
“Fucking hypocrite,” Shay utters through gritted teeth and then spits on the floor like it’s a sidewalk and not the Lord’s holy church.
But for the life of me, I can’t find it in myself to reprimand him for his outburst or the blasphemous action. Mostly because I believe the priest’s sermon had but one audience today. And that was me and my husband.
“He doesn’t like me,” I mumble under my breath over to Tiernan.
“Fuck him. You’re a Kelly now. He doesn’t have to like you. He just has to fear you,” Shay responds on his brother’s behalf.
I look at Shay, his kind blue eyes making me feel like I at least have one person here that doesn’t hate me. He’s a brazen flirt, but there is no malice behind his actions. I then turn to Tiernan, hoping to see that same empathy in his eyes, and frown when I find none. Tiernan lets go of his hold on me, his expression a blank canvas that I’m unable to read or decipher.
It surprises me that I suddenly feel cold now that he’s no longer touching me. Even when all he has to offer is pain and humiliation, it’s preferable to his cold shoulder.
For the rest of the service, I feel like all eyes are on us. As if the priest put a target on my back for everyone to stare and gawk at. I feel people’s attention on me even more when Father Doyle breaks the body of Christ for all of us to take communion, and only Niall and Saoirse stand up from their pew to take it. When we get up from our seats in unison to say the Lord’s Prayer, calling an end to mass, I’m ready to leave this church and never come back again. There are plenty of churches in Boston. I’m sure I can find one where no one knows who I am and won’t hate me just because of who my family is.
Kelly or Hernandez.
“Well, that was… interesting,” Saoirse says when we leave the church.
“It was a crock of shit, Ma,” Shay blurts out, sending daggers to Father Doyle, who is currently blessing everyone to have a good week at the church’s gates.
“Aye, boy, don’t go cursing on the Lord’s holy day,” his mother reprimands as she tries to tame her red locks from blowing all over her face in the cold Massachusetts wind.
“Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you all back at the house. Are you coming for Sunday lunch?” Shay launches the question at his brother.
“Aye. Rosa and I will drive right behind you.”
We say our goodbyes and then walk over to our car that’s parked at the curb. This time, Tiernan surprises me by opening the car door for me.
“Get in,” he orders, and I quickly do as he says, not wanting to make a spectacle of myself by fighting with my husband right where the priest can still see us.
Once we’re both in the car, he tells our driver to take the long way round to Beacon Hill instead of following Shay and his parents in their car as he suggested he would a few minutes ago. When Tiernan’s hands start trailing under my skirt, I understand why the sudden need for a detour.
“Still sore?” he whispers in my ear before giving my earlobe a good tug with his teeth.
“Yes,” I breathe out, but that doesn’t stop him from pushing my panties to the side and running a finger down my slit.
I can’t even pretend I don’t like his touch since my traitorous body’s reaction to him confirms that I do.
A lot.
“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already wet.”
I moan when his deft fingers begin to play with my clit.
“I guess you bring it out of me,” I pant.
“I can see that. I’m having a similar problem.”