“Why not? I’m sure they would understand under the circumstances.”
I can’t tell her that boarding a plane at Dublin Airport and leaving Declan behind isn’t an option. That even the thought of it is like ripping my chest open and stabbing myself in the heart. I don’t know how this happened so quickly. I’ve barely known Declan for a couple of weeks, and I always thought that love at first sight was a fictional trope.
Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio inTitanic, you know.
Never Amelia York and Declan Byrne in the Irish countryside. It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.
“Amelia?”
I don’t like it when Carol uses my full name.
“I want to stay. I’m not ready to leave yet.”
“Is this because of your father?” Her tone is pure disapproval.
“Not exactly.”
“Either it is or it isn’t.”
“It isn’t.” I’m not doing a great job of convincing her, but if I mention Declan, she’ll want to know more, and I don’t trust myself not to spill the beans once I start talking.
“What does your mom think about what’s going on?”
Um, I’ve deliberately avoided calling her.
“She thinks that I should stay. The Byrnes need me right now; it would be insensitive to quit while they’re grieving for Ry-Ruairi.”
I haven’t lied to Carol since high school. I gave my cell phone number to Hunter Davidson, the jock that Carol had been drooling over since eighth grade. That lie was a bad choice. This is different; I have good reasons for lying to her this time. I’m doing it for Declan.
“Mia,” her voice has softened a little. “Sometimes I get sick of hearing myself say this, but you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. You know that, right?”
I can’t help smiling. “How could I ever forget?”
I end the call feeling even more unsettled than I did before.
My thoughts can’t seem to find a happy medium, one that will result in no one getting hurt. Part of me believes that Declan will be devastated if he knew about me and Ruairi. But there’s a tiny part of me, the part that sobs over ‘You jump, I jump’ every time, that thinks Declan might be happy to know that I met his son in New York… Minus the messy, knee-trembling details obviously.
But will he put two and two together and come up with the right answer? What if he somehow gets access to the security footage from the Wraith? I don’t know how that would be possible but he’s a wealthy man, and wealthy people have connections in all the right places.
So, that night, in bed, I decide to let the universe choose for me. If the opportunity to tell him the truth arises then I’ll go with it. And if it doesn’t… Then I’ll just learn to live with the guilt.
On the day of the funeral, I wake up feeling nauseous. My eyes feel heavy, and I’m lethargic before I even get out of bed.
I tell myself that, after today, things might get a little easier. I’ve never attended a funeral, but my mom always says that the wake is a celebration of life, a time to relive happy times, to smile, and to say goodbye with joy in your heart.
I hope she’s right.
Declan is standing outside on the porch when I go downstairs. He’s wearing a black suit and tie, a white shirt, and shiny black shoes that I can see my reflection in.
He greets me with a smile when, on Orla’s orders, I take a mug of tea out to him. He has shaved off the stubble that grew while he hibernated in his study, and his hair is immaculate. For a moment, it’s as if no time has passed since I climbed out of the chauffeur-driven car and shook his hand, and the butterflies in my chest pick up where they left off when I spent the night in his bed.
The night that Ruairi was killed.
He accepts the hot drink, our fingers brushing on the side of the mug. The touch sends electricity straight to my core, and heat rushes to my face.
“Thank you, Amelia.” His gaze is so intense that I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. “For everything. Eoghan said that he couldn’t have handled the arrangements without you.”
Deep breath. I try to regulate my pulse. “You don’t have to thank me. It was the least I could do.”
