Simon eased Niamh from the car. “Let me carry you in,” he urged, but she shook her head, moving gingerly.
“I can walk.”
He knew she found the careful touches annoying, but his psyche demanded that he treat her like spun glass, fragile.
“Okay,” he agreed but stayed close by. Bailey or Ulrich could bring in her bag and the floral tributes and plants many had gifted her during her hospitalisation.
Inside, she eased herself down into a plush seat in the lounge. Simon was thankful he’d cleared everyone from the house as he crouched down beside her. “Do you want a drink or…?”
“A glass of water would be welcome.”
He noted the fine beading of sweat at her upper lip. Much as he wanted to wipe it away, he was firmly reminded of the therapist’s words.
“She’s got to find her own way. Mollycoddling will set her back or impede her healing. If she asks, then great. But also weigh that up with the awareness that you mustn’t enable her to become a cripple either. It’s a fine line.”
“But how do I know?” Simon asked.
The therapist shook his head. “You’ll only be aware of whether you’ve done it right later on. None of this is an exact science. She’s got to deal with the trauma, and I’d recommend she enter therapy in due course. But she must learn to come to terms with what’s happened, find a healthy way to accept it and move on. Create a new self-awareness.”
Three days after that discussion, he remained as confused as he’d been immediately afterwards.
He rose and headed for the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water, taking a moment to balance his emotions. The therapist had pointed out that he was going to be playing a major role in her recovery. Or at least he would be if that was what Niamh decided she wanted. So far it appeared to be the case.
Once he’d returned to the lounge, he handed her the glass, watching as she drank deeply.
She set the glass down and wiped her mouth. “We need to talk, Simon. Dr Arnett paid me a visit in the hospital.” With halting words, she relayed what she’d been told, the deductions they’d drawn. “So I guess the first question, and the most important, is whether you’re repulsed by the loss of my wings.”
She couldn’t have shocked him further. “I didn’t just love you for your wings, Niamh. They were beautiful, part of you, but you’re so much more than simply the fairy I first met. You’re the woman who completes me. I love you. You know that already. I want to take you to mate, but I would say nothing until you asked. The therapist—”
Niamh’s laugh was tense. “He told me it was my decision. That I was the centre, but I told him, the same as I’m telling you know, it’s us. That’s the key. I love you, Simon, but it’s going to take time. I have to come to terms with both what I lost and what I stand to gain.”
He moved to embrace her, but she stopped him. “Wait. You need to know it’s going to take time. The scars… Dr Arnett showed them to me. They’re… they’re horrible, but they’re part of who I am now. The person I have to make myself into. The person I have to come to know. For the next little while, I would like to move back into the spare room.”
He had to hold on to his emotions at her bold announcement.
As if she understood, she ducked her head. “This isn’t about you, Simon. It’s about me. Please.” When she glanced up, there were tears glinting in her eyes.
“If that’s what you need,” he ground out. “You tell me what you need, and if I can, I’ll give it to you, Niamh.”
She nodded. “I know. That’s part of why I need to do this. I know it’s hurting you, Simon. I’m sorry, and if it’s too much, I’ll go stay with Finn and Danny.”
Now he rose, stalked over, and knelt before her, his hand shaking as he cupped her jaw. “Don’t leave me, Niamh.”
Her eyes closed on a sob. “I don’t want to. I just… I need to find my balance.”
Niamh healed over the next weeks. She took the time to meet Frederick and Marta, to cuddle the baby, and watch the youngsters roll and play.
She spent time with Finn and Danny, who mourned the loss of her wings. Her banishment wasn’t overturned, but Esmerelda granted a dispensation allowing her to speak with her parents on the phone. Her parents were concerned but had settled, the witch informed her, once aware they must be patient and that she would heal, eventually.
Simon watched her, cared for her, but didn’t baby her either.
Today was her first day back at the clinic. Her hands shook as she inserted the key into the lock and let herself in, Bailey and Ulrich shadowing her. It was the one thing Simon insisted on, and she’d not yet grown accustomed to walking alone anywhere. It was the one crutch she allowed herself.
She keyed in her password after booting the computer system.
The day’s appointments flicked onto the screen, and she bit her lip, finding an email from Lisa.
Welcome back, Niamh.
I’m available on call for the next week or two. Dr Arnett insisted that you should have a fallback in case it all became too much, so I’ve a temp trained to fill in should you need time. Her details are in the black book in the top drawer.
The patient files were last updated on Friday night.
I know all the patients you’ve had contact with will be pleased to see you return.
Above all, though, remember that you’re not just capable but an integral part of our community.
We’ve missed you.
Lisa
The words made her want to cry. Everyone had been kind, but now she felt the urgency to prove herself. Not just to others but also to herself.
“Come on. You’re not a wimp, Niamh. Now, what’s the first thing to do?”
She glanced at the patient list and the symptoms or known ongoing ailments. She set up the treatment room and, finally satisfied, settled once more in her seat. The day was going to be long and tiring, but she was more than ready for the challenge.
Dr Arnett entered the building, her gaze falling on Niamh. “How do you feel today? Ready to return to work?”
Niamh smiled. “Yes. I’ve missed this.”
Dr Arnett enfolded her in a hug, something Niamh was rapidly becoming used to from the doctor. “Good. Now if it’s too much, Lisa has—”
“I read her email, but I’ll call her in if necessary. The treatment room is ready, and I’ll open the door in ten minutes. I’m going to make a tea and settle myself first. Then I’ll check the phones to see if there’s any urgent calls. I see Lisa has allocated three urgent booking spots today.”
Dr Arnett smiled warmly. “Fine, then. Get that tea, and we’ll get started.”
Simon kept his cell beside him all day, Bailey or Ulrich feeding him updates as the hours passed.
Dr Arnett had been insistent that if Niamh looked fatigued, she’d send her home.
Meanwhile, he dealt with the business at hand.
Jessica settled in the seat opposite him, her eyes alight with mischief. “So you set her free, did you?”
“She needs to re-enter the world. So long as Bailey and Ulrich are there, she should be fine.” He glanced through the papers, signed the indicated spots. “Any more trouble with the Council members?”
Jessica shook her head. “Not since the incident.” That was the term she used to describe his absence during the long days of Niamh’s abduction and subsequent hospitalisation.
“Good. And the Persible trial?” He struggled to hold on to his emotions.
“Simon, do you really want me to stand in for you?”
As always, he took a moment, centred himself before answering. “Yes. She’s my mate, Jessica. You know controlling it in this situation is precarious. If we’re going to petition for judicial rights, we must prove that we can be objective even under the most extenuating circumstances.” Gods, how he hated the political smarminess and correct language he had to spin. If he had his way, he’d have torn the man limb from limb. As it was, the trial would take every ounce of willpower to handle in a humane—though not human, for he’d never been one—fashion.
“All right, well, they set the initial trial for June 21 next year. It’s the earliest date they can grant us. Meantime, the Senate will accept our petition, and I’ve already got a team on it. We’re drawing in the vampires too. They’re willing to support our petition, but in return, they’d like a formalised Memorandum of Understanding.”
“All right, what would that entail?”
“I’m not sure, but Cressida, Xavier, and Daniel would like an appointment to set up an initial scoping committee. I would support it, Simon.” The earnestness that she radiated matched his agreement.
“Okay. We need to take this to the Council as a priority. Add it to the agenda for next week’s meeting, and let Cressida’s people know.”
“Oh, one more thing.” Jessica bit her lip and extended an envelope. “Niamh gave me this. Said to give it to you in the early afternoon.”
He frowned, then took the missive and nodded.
Jessica left the room, and he broke the seal.
Simon,
First, I have to thank you for giving me time and space. I know it’s been hard.
I have decided.
If you’re willing, I’d like to discuss it with you tonight.
If you could arrange a meal, I’ll arrange the dessert.
Niamh
His hands shook.
What had she decided? The only thing he could take any surety from was the comment about the dessert. Just like the first night they were together.
The doorbell rang, and he rose as Jessica called, “Can you get that?”
He turned the knob, and there stood Amalia. “These are for you.” She thrust a bunch of flowers into his hands. Buttercups, marigolds, and primroses.
His heart thudded in his chest. “I…”
“Also the dessert platter and some wine. Celebrating tonight, are we?”
“Uh…” The words he should answer with strangled him.
She smiled. “It’s okay. There’s also a note.” She slid it on top of the box.
He stepped back and closed the door once she left, then took the items to the kitchen, emotion welling within him.
He leaned against the countertop and opened the envelope.
Simon,
Roses are red
Violets are blue
My man is still the best
Because I love you.
Niamh XXX
Tears burned in his eyes, and he dashed them away, his heart expanding in his chest.
Niamh turned the key in the lock, letting herself in.
The small bag she’d tucked away in her underwear drawer was an emotion magnet. Over the last few days, she’d planned tonight down to the last detail.
“Just so long as it goes to plan,” she whispered.
He’d been so patient, waiting for her to decide where she stood and if she was ready for this.
She’d been religious in attending her therapy sessions and knew he’d also gone to several. Physically, she was in excellent condition, and the time she’d spent with the elder fairy had also aided her mental recovery. It was rare that a fairy lost their wings, though it happened, and she’d contacted a few.
Returning to work had also soothed her. Today, she’d even received her enrolment package from the healer’s guild and would begin her studies after the Christmas season.
The only aspect of her life not yet assured was the situation between her and Simon.
She knew he was ready and willing, but as her therapist had pointed out, wanting differed greatly from happening.
Simon called from the kitchen, and she ducked her head in, pleased to see her deliveries had arrived.
“Welcome home,” he whispered against her lips.
She leaned in, accepting the soft caress, and smiled.
“I’m going to shower and change. How long till dinner?”
“How soon do you want to eat?”
Glancing out the window, she noted the darkness had settled in the short while since she’d parked and entered the house. “How about when I come down? Say fifteen minutes?”
He nodded, and she left him there, scurrying up the staircase.
Once in the bedroom, she stripped off her clothes and headed for the attached bathroom. She hoped this might be the last time she used it. Nights were long without Simon there embracing her.
The water sluiced over her body, and she hurried through washing and then shaving her legs before stepping out and towelling her hair dry. It hadn’t fully regrown yet, but she’d found a ponytail or loose bun hid most of the damage.
Padding to the bedroom, she reached into the top dresser drawer and pulled out the underwear she’d chosen, the filmy lace little more than tiny scraps of material. The cups barely covered the swells of her breasts, and the panties gently abraded the swollen mound of her nether region.
With shaking fingers, she applied a light layer of makeup, then reached into the cupboard for the dress she’d bought. It slid over her body, cupping curves, giving nothing away of what lay underneath.
Heading down to the kitchen, she found him waiting, his suit pants and immaculate white shirt hiding the body she missed so much. He leaned in and kissed her. “You look amazing.”
She grinned and followed him to the table set for two. The flowers she’d sent—and she’d almost cancelled the order until Amalia told her it was an amazing thing to do for her man—sat slightly to the left of centre.
The meal was concealed beneath warming domes until he tugged the covers up and away.
Her eyes dropped to the food, and she smiled. “You remembered.”
“I had some help, though. Unlike you, cordon bleu is a little beyond my cooking skill.”
He offered her wine, and she nodded.
During the main course, she told him a little about her day. When they finished, she offered to help clear the table, but he refused her assistance. “Wait in the lounge. I’ll bring the dessert through. The fire is already lit.”
She settled on the long seat, hoping he’d take the hint, and when he slid down beside her, Niamh sighed and moved a little closer.
“I wanted to talk with you. About us. I’ve had time to think.” She turned to look at him, hoping he’d understood the notes and gifts. “I’ve missed you, Simon. Every day and every night, there’s an emptiness, and I want the closeness we had. I miss being in your arms and your loving.”
His smile turned lopsided. “Oh gods, Niamh. I’ve missed you too. I’ve given you your space and tried to understand.” His hand gripped hers, shaking with emotion.
“I know. That’s what’s made this easier. I love you, Simon. For a while I didn’t want to. I tried to turn away, but Dr Arnett told me not to. I spoke with other fairies and asked them about… you know.”
He nodded. “I guessed as much. But, Niamh, I don’t care about others. I want to be with you. To share my life with you. To marry you.”
“I know. It’s what I want too.”
He reached into his pocket. “I’ve been carrying this the whole time you’ve been healing. Three months,” he sputtered, “burning through my pocket.”
He tugged out a jewellery case, slid it open so she could see a stunning emerald surrounded with diamonds. “Marry me, Niamh.”
“I want to say yes, but I need to tell you, I may or may not conceive—”
“I don’t care. Marry me.”
She gripped both his cheeks. “Listen, because my answer depends on yours. Do you understand what I just said?”
He nodded. “I do. But, Niamh, that’s what I’m saying. Children or no, I love you. Marry me.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He released a shuddering breath, took the ring, and reverently slid it onto her finger.
“Will you also mate with me?”
“Yes.”
He tugged her up and into his arms. “Do you want dessert now?”
She shook her head. “No, I just want you.”