“Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Just didn’t get much sleep,” he says.

  “Why not?” I worry my fingers together. Especially since our epic marathon fucking session last night should have exhausted him. It had me.

  “Just thinking about things.” With those cryptic words Aidan walks toward the kitchen. Of course, I follow. Not only because it had been my original destination any way.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask hesitantly.

  He gets a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water from the filtering pitcher in the fridge. I stand there while he drinks the entirety of it, my stomach swirling with nerves and that heavy, uncomfortable sensation burning inside. He refills the glass and leans against the counter. Knots of anxiety tighten. Finally his eyes meet mine. “Not yet.”

  I swallow. “Okay. You know I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

  Aidan smiles, but as someone who knows him almost better than anyone else, it’s clearly fake. He unfolds his frame and closes the distance between us until he’s close enough to touch. There’s a clink of glass hitting the countertop and them he palms my cheeks between both hands and presses the same comforting kiss on my forehead that I’ve always loved. It feels different this time. Like it’s the last one he’ll ever give me. Tears sting my eyes for some reason.

  He draws back and stares down at me. “You’re my best friend, you know that.”

  I lay my hands over his wrists and try to hold back the panic attack building. “You’re mine, too. Always.”

  “I’m going to be gone for the day. Will you be okay here alone?”

  “Of course,” I say softly. “Besides, I won’t be alone. There are plenty of people here to keep me company.”

  Aidan releases me and with only a brief glance he walks away. I stand there another minute, slowly breathing in and out, until I take in a long, shuddering breath and go back to what I’d come in here to do in the first place. Moving on automatic pilot, I fill four glasses with juice and, after all the practice carrying drinks at the pub, I manage to pick them all up and take them into the dining room in a single trip. Kellen, Carson, and Aisling are chattering with each other in between bites.

  My appetite has vanished, but I force myself to eat a little if for nothing more than sustenance. One by one the kids finish eating.

  “Take your plates to the kitchen and rinse them off before putting them in the dishwasher please.”

  The three of them comply and then I’m left alone. I wallow in self-pity for a short time and then stand. Whatever is going on with Aidan, I need to trust him. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions and worrying about something that isn’t even there. Straightening my shoulders, I clean the rest of the kitchen and then grab Aidan’s laptop from the spot on the floor in our bedroom where it had fallen last night. It doesn’t appear to have suffered any damage. I take it with me out onto the back patio and click on the first open tab.

  I’m going to open that art gallery, and it’s going to be incredible. Which means I need to get to work.

  CHAPTER 25

  Aidan

  I hadn’t slept at all last night. At least not until I passed out after finishing off the rest of the whiskey left in the bottle I’d pulled from the cabinet. The couple hours I did manage to get weren’t near enough and only added to the headache I had from the hangover.

  Once I’ve taken a quick shower and changed my clothes, I walk out the front door and get in my car. Seconds later, I’m on the road toward Dublin. I wind my way through the city streets and across the Liffy until I reach my destination. After finding a place to park I walk down the footpath that leads into the place I haven’t visited since right after Sorcha and I met and her mother died.

  The atmosphere inside the cemetery is solemn as other pedestrians make their way to their loved one’s gravesite. A few stand around an open grave comforting each other. I only give them a passing glance as I continue on my way. Less than ten minutes later I stand in front of where a large marble statue bearing our family’s crest towers over the neighboring markers.

  I take in the newest ones in the ground at my feet. All of them have been added within the last twenty to thirty years. There’s Uncle Brian, an infant daughter of Uncle Conor’s, Mhamó, Grand-da, and finally, my mother. Kathleen Róisín Donnelly. The only other inscription besides her birth and death dates is “Beloved Daughter”. That’s it. Nothing to indicate she’d been a wife or mother or friend.

  Did she even have any friends? I’d barely been ten when she died. I hadn’t paid attention to that kind of thing. She cried a lot, though.

  Was there ever a time when she wasn’t crying? Only when she screamed how much she hated us. Hated Da. Hated her life. I’d once walked into her room to ask a question. She’d been sitting on her bed quietly sobbing. In her hands was a picture frame. She stroked it with her fingertips and whispered, “I love you and miss you so much.”

  The floor must have creaked under my foot, because her head snapped up. Pure hatred spewed from her eyes. She jumped from the bed—yelling at me to get out—and slapped me across the face. I turned and ran out of the room, her screams and curses following me until they only echoed inside my head.

  Until that day, I’d hated her as much as she hated us. After, I pitied her for how weak and pathetic she was. How weak love had made her. I swore I would never love anyone if that’s what it did to a person.

  Except Da’s not weak and aside from his children, there isn’t anyone he loves more than Nora. Carrick Donnelly rules an entire organization. He’s the most powerful man in Dublin.

  Maybe I’m the weak one. The one who lets fear rule me.

  I stare down at my mother’s gravestone. Will mine, one day, read nothing more than “Beloved Son”?

  Turning, I walk back to my car. Once I get behind the wheel, I make a couple phone calls.

  I drive through the iron gate of the estate and down the lane toward the manor. The late afternoon sun hides behind the shade of the trees. A few rays of light filter through casting long shadows across the sprawling landscape. I reach the house and park. For a few minutes, I sit there, staring at the front door. The second I cross the threshold, there’s no turning back.

  Taking a deep breath, I exit, stride forward, and step into the entryway. The faint sound of the boys’ voices drift in from the left. I follow it to the common area where the two of them are engaged in a battle on the television screen. They yell out commands to each other and their fingers press wildly on the buttons and knobs of their controllers. Neither of them even glance over at me, too engrossed in their game.

  I make my way down the hallway into my bedroom only to find it empty. I’m not sure why I expected otherwise? Did you really think Sorcha would be sitting here just waiting for you to come back? I shake my head at the idiocy and go back the way I came. Next, I check Aisling’s room. It’s just as empty.

  The library is quiet as usual. Finally, I walk through the dining room and movement outside catches my eye. I stand at the door and my gaze lands on Sorcha and Aisling. They’re sitting at the table, their heads bent close, with paper strewn in front of them. The young girl points at the sheet in front of her older sister and Sorcha’s hand moves, the pencil gripped between her fingers moving with it.

  I step outside. Sorcha notices me first. Her head jerks up and our eyes meet. Pure happiness radiates from them, but flashes of fear and worry accompany it. I hate that my leaving this morning caused that. She nudges Aisling who whips around. Her smile lights up her face and she rushes over and grabs my hand, nearly dragging me back to the table.

  “Aidan, come look what we’re drawing. It’s a new fairy forest,” she squeals in excitement.

  I let her pull me over so I can study the art Sorcha’s creating. Good Christ, she’s talented. It’s no wonder Aisling desperately wants her forest back in her room. I study the image in front of me and I can almost imagine I’m there, standing within the trees, smelling the air filled with the scent of flowers and dirt and nature. I can picture the fairies flitting from limb to limb, their iridescent wings sparkling in the black of night.

  My eyes meet Sorcha’s. “It’s stunning. Although that is almost too pale of a word to use.”

  A flush rises in her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  I glance at Aisling and back to Sorcha. “Can we talk?”

  She swallows. “Of course. Here, take these to your room, please”—she rises and gathers up all the paper in a neat stack and hands it to her sister—“and we’ll work on them again later, okay?”

  “Bye, Aidan,” Aisling says before disappearing into the house.

  Sorcha’s turns her gaze back to me. Her body is rigid as if she’s waiting for a blow.

  “Will you take a drive with me into the city?”

  She blinks, clearly surprised at the request and nods. “Let me send a quick text to the boys letting them know.”

  Once she’s done that, she passes me on her way to the door. I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers. She startles, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, one side of her mouth curls up just slightly in a small half-smile. I’ll take it. We get to the car and I’m forced to release her, but the minute we’re both seated and driving back into Dublin, her hand is within mine.

  I can sense her wanting to ask about this morning, but she doesn’t. The only sound is the song coming through the speakers. We ride in silence. Every so often, I squeeze her hand gently. Finally, we come to a stop on a quiet, but frequented-by-locals street in front of a small, two-story building bookended on one side by a bookstore and a popular bakery on the other.

  Sorcha sends me a questioning glance when I turn the car off. I just grin and exit the car. Seconds later, her door closes and she rounds the front to stand next to me.

  “What is this place?” she finally breaks the silence.

  “You’ll see.” I can’t help tease her.

  I reach into my pocket, insert the key in the door, and open it. Then I glance over my shoulder. “You coming?”

  Sorcha strides forward and follows me inside. I walk over to one wall and flip on the light. The concrete floor is bare and a little dusty. The tall ceiling is fitted with black rafters and exposed black ductwork. White tubed light covers dangle at random intervals, each one bright and shining with brand new bulbs. The cavernous space echoes with Sorcha’s footsteps as she gawks from one side of the room to another, slowly pivoting in a circle and taking everything in.

  Her chin tips down and she meets my gaze. “This place is lovely. But I’m not sure what we’re doing here.”

  I close the distance between us and reach for her hand, using my thumb to open her palm where I drop the key in it. Sorcha’s head jerks up and confusion is written across her face.

  “It’s yours. If you want it,” I tell her.

  “Mine?”

  “For your gallery.”

  Her eyes widen and then fill with tears. “Oh, Aidan.”

  “I’m sorry for leaving and being weird this morning. Especially after last night.” I cradle her jaw. “It was nothing to do with you. It was me and my need to let go of the past.”

  Sorcha lays her hand over mine. “I was worried you regretted it.”

  “Not at all. I just needed to take care of a few things.”

  “Did you get them taken care of?” she asks.

  I take her hand and kiss her knuckles. “I’m working on it. But while I get my shit together, what do you think? Should we buy the place as a wedding gift to ourselves?”

  Sorcha laughs. “To ourselves, huh?”

  “Why not? If you can’t buy gifts for yourself, who can you buy them for?” I smirk. “Besides isn’t there something in the wedding vows about what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine?”

  “I don’t think that’s in the actual vows.” She rolls her eyes and walks through the open space taking it all in.

  “There’s an upstairs that can be used for storage if we need it. Or we can extend the small space in the back that’s already there.” I gesture in that direction. “You could even make the upstairs into a special events area where you showcase a single artist’s work or throw a fancy party.”

  Sorcha faces me. “You’ve thought a lot about this, haven’t you?”

  I close the distance between us and take both her hands in mine. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you, what with the whole marriage and moving to Dublin, thing. I want you to be happy.”

  She places her hand on my chest and rises up on tiptoe to kiss me. “I am happy. As long as I still have you in my life, I’ll be happy.”

  Her words settle deep in my chest, warming it. I claim her lips with mine, curling my hand around her hip, and tugging her to me. There’s no rushing. It’s a sweet, perfect kiss. I draw back and press my forehead to Sorcha’s. “You make me happy, too.”

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the small, square velvet box. Sorcha sucks in a breath.

  “Do you remember what you asked me to do?” I take out the platinum band with its large round diamond in the center surrounded by emerald accents.

  She clears her throat before she can speak. “I asked you not to rule out the possibility of falling in love with me.” Still it comes out in a hushed voice.

  Taking her trembling hand in mine, I slide the ring down her third finger. “I think it’s very possible I already am. Sorcha O’Connell, will you marry me? Not because of any debt or blackmail. But because you’re the person I want to spend my life with.”

  It’s not the pretty words every woman wants to hear, but I’m doing my best to open myself up to possibilities. To her. To love. I hold my breath waiting for her to choose me. To choose us.

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Sorcha

  Once Aidan proposed, we decided not to wait. I mean, when it’s the right person, what’s the point? Five days after he gave me the best wedding present ever, we’re getting married. It’s a perfect day for it, too. The gods must be looking down on us and smiling, because the sun is shining brightly in the sky and there’s not a single cloud. A rarity in Dublin this time of year.

  Caitlín, Nessa, and Lucia had rallied together and with whirlwind speed had a small but adorable venue booked. I would have been happy to have it in the backyard at the manor, but since Liam has refused to step foot on Donnelly property again, it wasn’t an option. Nessa told me he’d only done it the one time for Imogen’s sake.

  The three women had also helped me pick out a dress, flowers, and took care of getting the food for the reception. They even hired a photographer to take some pictures. Although it’s only family present, there are still nearly twenty people. That’s also counting Aidan and me.

  “Aidan is going to want to rip this dress off you the minute you head down the aisle,” Caitlín says with an appreciative whistle.

  “Let’s hope he at least waits until he has her alone.” Nessa giggles.

  Despite Caitlín still pinning back my hair, I turn in my seat to face the two of them. “Thank you both for being here and standing up with me. I don’t really have any girlfriends left and both of you have been so warm and welcoming.”

  “That’s what family is for. Besides, my sister and best friend are halfway across the world. It’s nice having sisters here,” Caitlín says. “Even if technically we’re cousins-in-law.”

  “I grew up an only child with a shitty Da. Imogen and I are slowly becoming friends, but it’s been a challenge. I’m sure because Cian and Liam hate each other. It can’t be easy for her to be caught in the middle.” Nessa sighs. Does she not realize she’s caught there, too?

  The wedding ceremony is going to be interesting with everyone, including Liam, in attendance. Aidan had personally invited Imogen and him, although the latter with great reluctance. But he said he knew that if Liam wasn’t allowed to come, then his sister wouldn’t attend either. I’d been introduced to her when the two of them arrived. They couldn’t have been more different. Liam wore a dark, pin-striped suit that showed off his massive build, and his rough and craggy face spoke of someone who’d live a rough life. Imogen, on the other hand, resembled the lead singer of a goth band with her black and white skull dress and the purple and teal streaks throughout her black hair.

  “I’m glad they could come. Aidan wouldn’t want his sister to miss his wedding. I’m sure everyone can behave themselves for a couple hours,” I say.

  Nessa and Caitlín exchange disbelieving glances. There’s a knock on the door and Aisling skips into the room.

  “I brought the flowers.” She holds up the basket filled with rose petals nearly spilling some of them in her excitement.

  “Look at how pretty you are,” I gush.

  The white dress with its flared tulle skirt and wide Kelly green ribbon around the waist that ties into a giant bow at the back had been adorable when she’d tried it on. With her hair combed and styled in loose curls, she’s the perfect flower girl.

  “I’m ready to throw them.” Aisling nearly vibrates with giddiness.

  “I know you are, but it’s not time yet.” I face the mirror and meet Caitlín’s eyes with a smile and she goes back to putting the finishing touches on my hair.

  Nessa calls my sister over and the two of them talk and giggle. Butterflies have been swarming around in my stomach all day. Today I become Aidan’s wife. Something I never dreamed possible. The past five days have been surreal. We’ve both been so busy during the day that we barely saw each other. But the nights? The nights have been incredible.

  The first time we’d had sex, it had been fucking. Since he proposed, and although he didn’t actually say he loved me, he’s made love to me like he does. And while him admitting that he thinks he’s falling in love with me might not be enough for another woman, it is for me. I’ve always judged a person on their actions more than their words, and everything Aidan has done over the last few weeks—god, the last five years—tells me he loves me. I can be patient.