Page 134 of The Thief
"Better?" I ask, running my hands through her hair.
"Much. Thank you."
"For what?"
"For knowing what I needed. For giving it to me."
"Always."
She settles against my chest, and I can feel some of the grief has eased. Not gone—it'll never be completely gone—but manageable now.
"Freddie?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you. Not just because of this, not just because of the sex. But because of who you are. Because you see me, really see me, and love me anyway."
"There's no anyway about it. I love you because of who you are, not despite it."
"Even when I'm broken?"
"Especially when you're broken. That's when love matters most."
Morning comes too soon, gray Dublin light filtering through the curtains. Alastríona's already awake, sitting by the window with her phone pressed to her ear.
"I know, I know," she's saying. "I should have called sooner."
The accent on the other end is thick Belfast, female. Young.
"Vittoria," Alastríona explains when she notices me listening. "My friend from Belfast."
I remember her mentioning Vittoria before. The girl who was facing an arranged marriage, the only real friend she had in Belfast.
"No, I'm safe," Alastríona continues. "I'm with family now. Real family."
The conversation is in English, but there are undertones I don't understand. References to people and places that belong to Alastríona's old life.
"You should come visit," Alastríona says. "When things settle down. I'd love for you to meet everyone."
A pause while Vittoria responds.
"I know it's complicated with your parents, but maybe someday."
I can hear Vittoria's response, her accent thick like Alastríona's. "I want you happy, Tríona, that's all I've ever wanted."
The name hits me like a physical blow. Tríona. Not Alastríona, but something shorter, more intimate. A nickname I've never heard anyone use. They continue talking for a moment and I leave them be, just being here as support if she needs it.
"I have to go," Alastríona says. "But I'll call again soon. Promise."
She hangs up, sets the phone aside, and notices me watching her.
"Everything okay with your friend?" I ask.
"She's worried about me. About what I've gotten myself into."
"Smart friend."
"She is. Vittoria's got more sense than most people twice her age."
