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“They said they’re staying at Mandy and Will’s, though,” Cian adds.
I nod. “Recent development, but yes.”
“Will drove them over. We loaded everything up quickly.”
Scarlett grabs the roll of paper towels and starts to kneel next to the broken casserole dish. Cian swears and scoops her up, throwing her over his shoulder.
“Cian!”
“You are supposed to rest,” he tells her. He smacks her ass. “You know I’m just getting the hang of all of this. Give me a fucking break, okay?”
She grins at me. “He’s doing great, actually.”
I take in her appearance now. She’s got a bright red cast on her right forearm, and her long dark hair is wet and in a braid.
I’m guessing Cian had to wash and braid her hair. Scarlett is right-handed, so many activities will be impossible for her while that cast is on, but doing her hair—or probably showering alone in any case—will be difficult regardless.
And just now he was upstairs unpacking?
“You’re going to the couch,” Cian says, starting for the living room with his wife over his shoulder. “And you willstay therewhile I put another casserole in the oven and finish upstairs. Understand?”
I can still hear them from the kitchen as I start cleaning up the mess.
“I can put a pan in the oven with one hand,” Scarlett tells him.
“Obviously not without it turning into an ordeal,” Cian says.
“That was Henry’s fault!”
“I can andwillspank your ass, arm cast or not, little witch,” he tells her.
“I’m not an invalid.”
She mutters it, but I still hear.
“Glinda,” Cian says, his voice gentle as he uses his nickname for her. “Let me take care of you. Please. I’ll do a good job.”
There’s a pause, and I imagine they’re kissing. And this is exactly why living with them now that they’re married could be a problem.
Well, one of the reasons.
“Of course you will,” she finally says. She sighs. “Okay. I’ll just sit here and watch TV or read.”
“Good girl.”
There’s another pause, and I focus on picking up the jagged pieces of the glass casserole pan, praying that they’re not doingmorethan kissing.
“Oh, hey, you don’t have to clean that up.”
I look up as Cian walks back into the kitchen. I frown as I dump the broken glass into the trashcan. “It’s fine.”
“I just didn’t mean for you to walk in the door and need to start cleaning up.” He chuckles. “I didn’t mean for there to be things for you to clean up.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” I tell him. Then internally wince. That sounded kind of dickish. I do not just clean up messes for Cian.
I make sure he’s safe and happy, yes, but I love being around him. I love my life with the O’Gradys very much. I’ve never wanted anything else.
Not until I left my heart in Louisiana.