Page 31 of Unreasonably Yours

Toni

Warm sun pouring in from the big window beside the bed and the gentle sound of Cillian’s light snores beside me coax me awake earlier than usual.

I crack my eyes open, sit up slowly, and look over at him.

Cillian lies on his back, one arm under his head, that mess of dark brown and silver hair splayed around him. He looks peaceful, his pink lips slightly parted, the sunlight emphasizing the freckles across the bridge of his nose.

Even though we’ve spent quite a few mornings together at this point, I’ve never seen him like this. He always managed to be up before me, blaming his years in the military for breaking him of the habit of sleeping in.

I burn the image into my mind. Not wanting to forget a single line or strand of hair. The soldier in repose.

How long is it acceptable to stare at someone asleep before you enter into Edward Cullen levels of creep? I decide I'm getting too close for comfort and pull my eyes away. Determined not to interrupt his rest, I try to slide from the bed.

Unfortunately, this mattress isn't his plush dream back in Charlestown, and it gives a slight creak. I grimace as a warm hand wraps around my wrist before I can get up.

He still looks peaceful, eyes heavy with sleep, lips soft and welcoming in a gentle smile.

If I've ever seen something—someone—so beautiful, I can't remember it.

“Where you goin'?” his voice thick and drowsy.

Rather than attempt a response, I lean into him, kissing first his strong brow, then the tip of his nose, and finally those lips. He hums with satisfaction, pulling me in closer and deepening the kiss.

We stay like that for a while, kisses languid and unhurried. When we finally part, I feel drunk on it. On him.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Good morning.” He pushes my hair from my face, cradling my cheek in his hand. I lean into his touch for a moment before planting a kiss on his palm.

“Since I’m never up before you, I was going to make you your tea, but...”

His smile broadens. “I'm a light sleeper, doll. But you can still make me tea even though I’m awake.”

“That does mean you have to let me get out of bed.”

“Hmm...” Cillian pulls me in for one more kiss and releases me.

The cold seeped into the cabin overnight, leaving things just a bit too chilly to roam in my usual sleepwear. I change into leggings and a sweater before heading into the kitchen to start tea for Cillian and coffee for those of us with better taste.

Cillian isn’t far behind. He steps into the open main room of the cabin in grey sweats and a black hoodie, looking far better than anyone who just woke up has a right to.

“What is this?” he asks, lifting up a large flat rectangular package wrapped in butcher paper.

“No idea,” I say, turning back to the task of beverage assembly and trying to keep the nervous flutter from my voice. Lucy must’ve snuck it in here last night.

“Why don’t I buy that?”

The kettle clicks, and I pour water over his tea before answering. “Sounds like trust issues to me.” I set his mug on the metal workbench, turned-kitchen-island. “Your leaf juice is soaking.”

“Toni,” he says, dragging my name out like an accusation.

“Cillian,” I say in the same cadence. That earns me a raised brow. “You brought me here, remember? I think you would have noticed if I had some large mystery package with me.”

A wolfish grin narrows his eyes. “True. I guess I can just toss it?—”

“Oh, just open it!” I break, my anticipation overriding my patience.

He laughs and leans against the back of the heavy old sofa. Carefully, he tears away half of the paper before going so still I can’t be sure he’s even breathing, and when his eyes meet mine, wide and slightly glassy, I know I’m not.

Looking back at the canvas, he pulls the rest of the wrapping away. Again, that stillness.

Unsure, I finally break the silence. “Oliver told me everyone just kind of foists not-birthday birthday gifts on you.” I chew my lip. “I hope it’s ok...I just thought?—”

“It’s stunning, Antoinette. I—” He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “I don’t have words,” he says, huffing something close to a laugh.

Cillian gently places the canvas against the back of the sofa. His eyes linger on the sunset view from the Longfellow Bridge, rendered in vibrant colors, with gold leaf making the windows of the skyline glow. I even had to admit, it was one of my better pieces.

“Your tea,” I say, gesturing to the mug as he makes his way into the kitchen .

He doesn’t acknowledge it, just pulls me into his arms, his fingers fluidly cradling the back of my head as he kisses me. When he pulls back, the look in his eyes is?—

Alarm bells begin to sound in the back of my mind. A voice insisting that I needed to run while I could, while my knees still held me upright, because the moment they finally gave way, I’d be done for.

“Thank you,” Cillian’s voice is rough. He smooths a calloused thumb across my cheek.

“It’s just a painting,” I say, hoping to quiet the fluttering in my chest.

He cocks a brow. “Just a...that is the most beautiful gift I've ever received.” He grabs my chin, just firm enough to make a point. “And if I ever hear you downplaying your talent again, I will figure out a way to make you regret it.”

“Promise?” I ask.

“Promise,” he purrs, pulling me in for another kiss.

“Ok, enough of that. I don’t like puking first thing in the morning,” Ginelle says as she walks in. She closed the bar the night before but still made her way out here. I wasn’t sure where she’d spent the night, but I had my suspicions.

“Can we help you?” Cillian asks.

“Not unless you want to help me take a piss.”

“Can't rough it?” he teases.

“Why piss behind a tree when there's a perfectly good bathroom inside?” She closes the door just as Lucy comes in, confirming where Ginelle had spent the night.

“Gin beat you to the bathroom,” Cillian tells her.

“I’m good. Haven’t given up the perk of pissing standing up for a reason.”

“Kinda jealous of that, not gonna lie,” I say as Cillian reluctantly lets me go.

“You should be, it’s convenient,” Lucy says, giving me a playful wink. She notices the painting against the couch. “Found the delivery from your fairy dyke mother I see.”

“You were the co-conspirator,” Cillian accuses fondly.

“Of course,” Lucy says.

“Will Gin want coffee?” I ask Lucy, passing her a mug.

“She will.” I set another mug beside hers as she pulls a sweetened coffee creamer from the fridge, doctoring one mug. She notices my curious expression—I’d mostly seen her take her coffee black unless it was a specialty drink at a coffee shop. “Don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t gonna.” I take a deep drink, filing that conversation away for a later date.

“It’s freezing in here,” Ginelle says, stepping out of the bathroom, rubbing her arms.

“Coffee will help,” Lucy says, holding the mug out to her.

“Thank you.” Ginelle takes the drink, but I notice the intentional distance kept between the two women. “Cillian, fire, please.”

I look over to see Cillian loading wood into the cast-iron stove. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Just making sure,” Ginelle says, shivering.

It doesn’t take long for the cabin to warm, especially when everyone else joins us and the O’Sullivan brothers put their short-order cooking skills to good use, doling out breakfast plates to everyone.

“Is this all y’all do out here?” I ask, full and cozy. “Eat and talk shit?” Ginelle had just finished a deserved and amusing tirade about the worst customers of the week.

“And hike,” Lucy says.

“No, thank you.” I scrunch my nose.

“Same,” Camille agrees with me. “I just bring a stack of books.”

“See, I can get behind that activity. ”

“When it’s warm, the lake is great for swimming,” Oliver says.

I grimace. “I don’t trust lakes.”

“What?” The whole room choruses.

“There are too many unknown creatures!” I defend myself.

“Sure, there are fish, but nothing that will eat you,” Cillian says from his place beside me on the couch. “Unlike the ocean.”

I narrow my eyes. “Water moccasins?”

“Do I even want to know what that is?” Ginelle asks.

“A poisonous snake,” I clarify, confused.

Cillian smiles. “Oh! No. Water’s too cold up here, doll. No snakes.”

“Another for the pros column,” Lucy says with a grin.

I don’t disagree. In fact, this morning has potentially added several pros to the list.